#/although whether or not that is canon is questionable

[song-linked-from-nine-verses]

First Big Gig, pt (unknown)

Wild doesn't realize that his breathing stops being even, as the crowd engulfs any tiny sound that his body is making. Even then, he tries to keep his body together, and twists his face, keeping it neutral. His stomach seems to churn uncontrollably, like one of those kneading machines he uses for making bread. But Wild was so sure he did not eat anything strange today. Maybe he did. He can't remember.

He thinks his heart is pounding way faster than it should, but the pounding of the massive speakers is making him question whether or not his brain made it up.

His brain is partly in protest, but luckily, for some reason Wild keeps walking forward. The room is so crowded and warm that Wild is sweating profusely. His knuckles turn white as he grips the trolley, but the AC makes his hand so cold that he's slowly losing his grip. A part of Wild wants to go back.

"Nervous?" Warriors asks both of them, though it's super hard to parse what he says. 

Wild couldn't even move enough to nod. He can only think, and his thoughts only have "stop, no, go back". His vocal chords, on the other hand, seem to have been stuck, but he didn't have to answer, as Warriors can't even hear what Four said through the massive echoes of the sea of people. 

"Let's show the other idiots what we're made of!" Warriors proudly says, and Wild tries his hardest to crack the widest smile.

Next thing he knows, the blinding lights are shining on him. He can't see anything but blobs, but that's okay, his hands are still playing. He can't ruin their first big gig like this. He just can't. Warriors have been waiting for this day since he met them.

He normally looks over to Four and Warriors, to wink at them to signal an improv, or do a little funny on the side, but if he looks anywhere but his guitar the world seems to just ever so slightly tilt. His hands start to slide off the strings, surely no one heard that he accidentally missed a few notes?

His stomach, on the other hand, is actively betraying him. It hurts so bad, a nagging, throbbing pain. But, that's okay, he just needs to focus on playing. He just needs to focus. He can't see anything but flashing colors. His head feels so light. He needs to focus. Focus. Focus. That is a lie. He can't focus.

— —-

"Missed?" Wind suddenly says.

"Hmm?"

"Their guitarist. He missed a beat." 

"No shit Sherlock, they play math rock. Of course it's going to 'miss a beat'. But yes, I notice the guy is playing worse and worse." Legend says. 

"I know yall guys don't like this type of music so...If you want to leave we can-"

"No! It's not that" Wind cuts Twilight off. "I mean, even for their music, their guitarist misses a beat. Multiple times!"

"There's a sudden… shakiness, that I can't put a finger on." Legend adds.

Now that he mentions it, Twilight notices that their guitarist isn't standing straight. "What do you make of it? Should we be worried?"

"Could be stress or stage fright? Who knows, it's their first time in front of such a large crowd. I was exactly the same."

Wind throws his hand. "So you DID lie that day!" 

Legend pretends he didn't say anything. "All I'm saying is, unless their guitarist collapses, it's nothing to worry about."

And just as he finished that sentence, a loud, distorted sound played and a massive THUD on the ground followed. 

Their guitarist actually collapses.

— — 

It took a while, but the moment Wild starts stirring on the equipment box, Warriors immediately rushes to him.

"Wild?" Warriors asks, and pulls his hair out to check his temperature again. At least he doesn't have a fever.

The guy tries to turn but Warriors holds him back before he falls off. "uummmmm….wh..where…"

"Don't worry, we're backstage. How are you feeling?" 

One of the staff backstage walks over and hands Warriors a bottle of water.  "Is he doing well?"

Warriors shrugged. "But, thank you for your concern… erm.."

"Impa."

"Oh, I also know an Impa. Thank you, Miss Impa. I will look for you if anything comes up."

As Impa walks away, Wild jolts upright. "The Concert!," he says, but quickly flinches then curls into a ball. "owwwww… no, no, no it's all my fault… Did they make us leave? Where is Four?"

"Hey, I told you not to worry!" Warriors pats Wild's back. The kid is soaked in sweat, and he is shaking. There's a slight hiccup, as if he's holding back a sob. He pulls down his scarf, making sure that Wild is seeing him smile. "No one is at fault, you hear me?"

"...you said you'd be so mad if anything goes wrong…"

Warriors' eyes widen. "Oh no, if I accidentally made you feel bad, I am so sorry."

A long sniff and tears start streaming from Wild's face. Warriors is not good with crying faces, so he just awkwardly opens the water bottle and hands it to Wild. He accepts, and starts inhaling it like a thirsty elephant.

"Eyes, Wars. So many. And I tried to ignore them, but then everything turned into blinding, staring lights, and-"

"Hey, if anything, I'd be more mad if something wrong happens to my friends. Besides, they haven't kicked us out, and Four is still out there.". 

The room echoes and next thing you know it, Four starts jamming the worst infamous grooves known to man. 

Man he is brave.

Wild lets out a chuckle. As the crowd boos, and Four keeps playing, the chuckle turns into a loud cackle.

The cackle quickly turns into a grimace as Wild suddenly pulls himself into a ball, gripping his abdomen. "I don't know what's worse, the pain or whatever Four is doing outside."

Warriors pats Wild's back. "I'll ask the staff if they have anything." Warriors says, but before he can stand, someone throws him a faux-fur bag.

"Oh, he's dead! " The Vet says once he has a good look at Wild, muffled by his face covering. 

"There's advil in there. And ibuprofen." Rancher gestures at the bag.

"And, I never asked you guys to be here." Warriors pulls up his scarf to cover his face, and throws the bag back at the Veteran. "Why are you guys here? If you want to mock us, I hope we can go outside so I can punch you properly."

"Wouldn't want to make a scene, too crowded out there." Their drummer says, as he stuffs the bag back into Warriors' hands. "If I wanted to mock, I would wait until you guys start playing."

"Alright, partner, not too far." Rancher says, as he pats the Vet's back. 

Warriors rolls his eyes, but makes no effort to return the bag. He sits back down next to Wild. 

"If it's a stomachache, and he really has no idea why, then it could just be stress. In which case he'll be fine in a few minutes." The Vet says, shooting a look at Wild. "Or hours. Depends on whether your guitarist wants to get back out on stage."

Sailor also jumps on the equipment box, putting himself right next to Wild. "It's okay to feel frightened, you know. And if you're not ready, it's okay to say so."

Man, these guys are way too wholesome than what I give them credit for, Warriors mumbles.

Wild stares at the Vet, then he turns his gaze back at Warriors. It's a "I don't want to do this, but what about you" kind of look.

"I still want to go back out there…" Warriors says, so Wild straightens himself, and starts to stand up. Warriors holds him back down. "But-"

"I can fill the empty spot if you want? Do you have the sheets?" The Vet asks.

"Why not the little guy over there? Also, I thought you hated our music? Can you even play guitar?" Warriors raises a brow, but the Vet just shrugs in response.

"I can play Never Meant." Legend shrugs. "Or that song by Tricot that you guys play. Just need the sheets. And don't do anything too weird."

"Well, then, Wi- I mean, Champ, can he borrow the sheets? Or, do you still want to play? Either option is fine."

— — 

"I should have used our guitar instead, this one is so greasy." The Vet says, then he seems to be throwing a friendly insult towards Wars and Four, but it was too far that Wild can't really make out what he said.

"Ready?"

"Woo!"

The moment he starts playing, Wild's eyes widen. 

"But for someone who has never listened to these songs…" Wild accidentally said his thoughts out loud.

"Impressive, right?" Rancher says as he walks up to Wild. He never stood so close to any of the band members, and Wild notices that his mask has hand sewn words in the Twili language. "We call him the Vet for a reason."

"To be fair, he actually hate-listens to you guys." Sailor chimes in. "Wait, don't tell anyone about that."

Wild spits a laugh. "Why does he hate-listen to our band?"

"He likes how your cymbals sound."

"Oh, thank you. Our drummer made them himself." Wild proudly says.

"Woah, cool!" Sailor exclaims, then he starts cackling. "OHHH! Smith! Cymbalsmith!"

"Mhm! Well then, if he ever needs any-" Wild was about to pull out his phone, but then remembers that he gave it to the Vet for music sheets. "Okay, I'll read out a number, and tell him if he needs cymbals just give us a call. If he wants, he can have some for free as well."

"I doubt he'd use cymbals made from the enemy band, however." Rancher says. 

"His grandpa runs it, so if we're talking technicality, it's not from 'the enemy band'."

"Thank you." 

"No, thank you. The meds help a lot."

[spatialwave]

Jayce Talis as a Husband & Father | Headcanons

➸ ask: "hiii i was wondering if you could do post s2 arcane headcanons for Jayce?? like jayce x wife!reader that have a newborn baby??" ➸ pairing: jayce talis x wife!reader ➸ word count: 923 words ➸ tags: mdni! sfw, fluff, comfort, mentions of jayce’s trauma, pregnancy, headcanons, childbirth, parenthood, canon-divergent ending. ➸ notes: i went really poetic with this idk why. also this definitely heightened my already terrible baby fever……. please for the love of god send me more asks about girldad jayce, i am begging you. i love writing these.

When you met Jayce Talis, you fell madly in love with him almost instantly—as did he with you. Within the first six months of your relationship, he proposed to you with a ring that he’d smithed himself, adorned with a hextech gemstone that sparkled unlike anything you’d ever seen. Of course, you said yes… and moved in within that same week.

Living with Jayce Talis meant dealing with the aftershocks of what he’d gone through during his time in the arcane and subsequent war. With a permanently injured leg and mental wounds that left him cursed by night terrors, you were they by his side to help him overcome his past. You were the rock he hadn’t known he needed, the one who encouraged him to keep fixing what he’d broken (and not without his partner, Viktor.)

Although he’d gone through hell and back, he found joy and happiness in you again. No longer was he filled with anger and guilt for allowing his naivety to take control of what was right—all Jayce wanted was to be happy. With you. 

When you found out you were pregnant, Jayce was over the moon, excited and horribly nervous. He constantly worried whether or not he’d be a good father, and the absence of his own in his life made him uncertain. He would spend countless evenings with his mother, asking her hundreds of questions about parenthood, which either made it better or worse depending on what he wanted to know.

However, the worry washed away when he held his little girl in his arms—weighing shy of six pounds and so tiny in his arms. It was a beautiful sight, a rugged man with messy hair, scarred arms, and calloused hands holding the love of his life.

Your daughter brings out a side of Jayce that Viktor told you is reminiscent of his life when they first met all those years ago: gentle, curious, nervous and much too excited. 

Jayce is messy and clumsy in his parenting, learning as he goes, but he is so dedicated. He’s used to being covered in stains but no longer in oil and soot from his work. Now it’s spit-up and dried milk… among other things. And to you, he’s never looked sexier than when he’s a mess.

Even though he’s still a councillor and working with Viktor on restabilizing hextech, he makes time for his family. The days of late-night tinkering in the lab or long council meetings are in the past because there is nothing more important to him than you two.

He is a very overprotective dad, constantly worrying about the little things and often getting sleepless nights because he checks on her one too many times to make sure sleeping soundly in her crib. He baby-proofs your home with everything he can make—doorstops, locks for the cabinets and removing any of his work from his home to the lab so there are no accidents. It’s cute, but considering that your daughter is shy of two months old, the baby-proofing tends to get in the way, but you let him. ‘Father knows best’ is a term he coins and uses, much to your annoyance.

Jayce always splits the tasks of parenting between you two but is never opposed to taking on more than you if you need the rest. As you slowly transition to include bottle feeding in your routine, he takes on nightly shifts for you. You find him asleep a few times, sitting up against the crib with a blanket covered in spit-up draped over his shoulder and an empty bottle in his hand.

He is a sentimental man. He makes a locket that he wears as a necklace every day, tucked beneath his clothing, and shows it off to anyone that he can—a photo of you and your daughter inside it.

You swear you’ve never been more in love with Jayce than you are now. A loving father and husband who doesn’t let his new role as a parent overshadow his love for you.

He’s just as romantic as he was the first time he took you on a date. A month after you gave birth and were far too stir-crazy to be at home any longer, Ximena watched your daughter, and he took you out on a date that reminded you of simpler times. Showering you with gentle touches and kisses that set your heart on fire and reignited your passion.

Jayce noticed how your confidence dropped since the pregnancy. He finds you looking at yourself in the mirror and trying to love the body that grew your daughter, hands over your still-rounded stomach and tracing the stretchmarks. Changes that look so large in your eyes go unnoticed by him, and he makes sure to cherish your body as a reminder that his love for you hasn’t changed.

Every night in bed, he kisses your stomach, your hips, your thighs—peppering your body with kisses and massaging you as he worships your strength and beauty, silently thanking you for bringing your daughter into the world. 

As with any relationship, there are good days and bad. Some days go so smoothly that you wonder if you both were naturally inclined to be the perfect parents. Then come the days when all you can do is argue, overcome with the stress, fears and worries of marriage and parenthood.

But you make it through because to be loved by Jayce Talis is to feel love unlike anything you have experienced before, and that is worth the hardships.

[sacredsorceress]

Cass 🤍

I'm so glad your requests are open!!!! So I was thinking for a request, could be head canons or not. What would it be like for Bob shy and awkward guy vs reader who's very extroverted and open. I think there could be a fun dynamic there.

🥹🤍

☆.°*Bob Dating an Extrovert HCs*°.☆

pairing: bob reynolds x extrovert!reader a/n: OO YAY!! as an extroverted person with an introverted bf this is so my cup of tea. i’ll do headcanons now but I def want to explore this in a full fic soon <3 word count: 1k warnings: none I think? fluff!!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・bob masterlist・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Bob felt some days that there must have been some magnetic pull or magic spell that you had on people that just made them gravitate towards you in a ways no one ever did towards him.

On many an outing, Bob had stood awkwardly at your side as you gave an old man directions, laughed along to a joke that some lady at the crosswalk said, or cheerfully shared where you got your outfit from after a compliment from a stranger.

And he wasn't confused, per say. Bob understood why people gravitated towards you- you had friendly demeanor, kind eyes and an infectious smile that you passed on freely to everyone you saw. People had to try not to like you.

What he couldn't understand is how you so confidently engaged with so many people. If he had been in your shoes, he would have fumbled over his sentences and somehow manage to disgruntle the other party. As kind as Bob was, as you assured him many a time, he just didn't draw people the way you did.

Really, it was just another thing that he loved about you: that your view of the world, experiences, and people were so different from his.

That being said, if you had a lot of friends he would be so nervous to meet them.

Bob would almost try to get out of it- rehearsing his faux illness to save him the embarrassment of making a fool out of himself in front of the people who mattered most to you-

but in the end, he would go. Bob may have been scared, but you were his girlfriend. His fear of disappointing you and seeing the sad "oh... okay" on your face as he lied to you was greater than his fear of a night out.

When he did meet them, you'd have to hold his hand to ground him.

But obviously, even with his meekness, it went swimmingly, with your friends even commending him on being able to balance you out.

Opposites attract after all.

Some things won't change for Bob. As I've mentioned before, Bob has an addictive personality and would stay far away from a night out drinking. Although being with you had brought him out of his shell more, there were simply some things that he wouldn't do.

If you had a night out without him, Bob would be waiting up for you in bed reading. The second you walked through the door, he'd mark his place in the book, look up at you, and wait for you to repeat the whole night for him verbatim.

"And then- oh my god, Bob, you wouldn't believe it-"

And he would listen just enough to be able to answer any questions you might quiz him on, but mostly he'd just be admiring how pretty you look talking about your friends in the warm glow of the lamplight.

Though he may be sober now, Bob is no stranger being drunk or having a hangover. If you walked in the door stumbling after a night out, he'd guide you into the bathroom, tie back your hair and get you ready for bed: with medication and water waiting on the nightstand for the morning.

If you were in the habit of having friends stay over, Bob would make up the pull out couch, no questions asked, stock the fridge and leave snacks out for your guests.

"Bob, I love you." Your friend would groan flopping onto the freshly washed sheets. "Can you marry her already?"

And it was moments like that where his cheeks burned bright red and he excused himself to the other room to avoid stumbling over his words and embarrassing himself further.

Whether you intended to or not, you would often share stories with others from your relationship with Bob. In your case, they often slipped out when telling an unrelated story that you had gone off track on, or you simply didn't think it was anything worth keeping secret.

You were an open book and your love for Bob was nothing to be ashamed about.

Bob wouldn't even know until he'd be walking into the kitchen of the Avengers Tower one day and everyone would just look at him.

"Bob, why did you not tell us that you keep picture of team in your wallet?" Alexei asked.

"Forget that," John interrupted, mouth full of cereal. "Why do you hide it behind your condoms?"

And if it were not for the Sentry serum pumping through his veins, Bob was sure he would've died of mortification on the spot.

But Bob couldn't even find it in himself to be upset with you because you not being able to stop yourself from talking about him just made his heart swell.

So many people loved you in this life, and you still chose to love him. He really wasn't sure he would ever understand it, but he would try his best to prove you right.

You would have to go with him to his doctors appointments if something was wrong because Bob would be too embarrassed to discuss his body with another person like that.

If the Void ever did make an appearance, he would hate you. He thrives off of Bob's loneliness, but being with you made that impossible. You effortlessly merged him into your daily life and relationships, making enough time for Bob to be alone with his thoughts long enough to spiral, extremely rare.

Your friends would become his friends and vice versa.

On the rare occasion your social battery died or someone had hurt your feelings, rendering you silent, it was as if Bob's backup system had booted up. He'd glance at you worriedly, reaching for your hand and take over the remainder of the conversation: either insisting to your friends that it was time to head home or defending your honor against some asshole.

Even if he stumbled over his words doing it, watching him take care of you like that did make you swoon.

I feel like I could go on about this all day, but Bob would be perfect with an extroverted partner. Opposites attract and your conflicting personalities would bring balance to one another- you getting Bob more out of his shell and confident in his own skin, while he kept you grounded, safe, and loved in the privacy of your own little bubble.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・inbox・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

[marscardigan]

family line — prologue

ellie williams x fem!reader

family line masterlist

summary: falling in love with ellie was easy. it was harder to hate her once you knew she was the one hunting your sister.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: this fic doesn’t follow the original plot of the last of us part ii. canon typical violence. no use of y/n. major character death.

Screams echoed the halls. You screamed for your mother, your voice raw and desperate.

It will be just like old times, she had promised.

Just the two of you.

Your throat burned as you cried out for help, panic propelling you forward as you sprinted through the abandoned cinema. That’s when you saw her.

Your mother’s body, being devoured by infected. Her limbs twitched, still fighting to escape as her shattered voice called out your name.

You stood frozen, unable to process the horror unfolding before you. Then, instinct took over. You turned and ran, your little legs carrying you as fast as they could.

Tears blurred your vision, distorting the world around you. You didn’t stop until you crashed into a taller figure. Your sister. Her arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly as her worried voice bombarded you with questions—about Mom, about whether you were hurt, about where she was.

You didn’t answer. You just buried your face in her chest, letting yourself sob uncontrollably. She held you close, refusing to let go.

Later that day, back at home, you faced the truth. You told them what happened—that your mother wasn’t coming back because she died protecting you from the infected. Your words were choked with tears as your father pulled you into his arms, whispering that it wasn’t your fault and that he was grateful you were safe.

But you knew your father.

He cried every night before tucking you into bed, mourning his beloved wife. Abby cried too.

It isn’t your fault, hon. You were just a kid.

You were just a kid. But you knew the truth. It was your fault. You were the one who wanted to see the big screen, who ignored your mother’s warnings and opened the door crawling with infected. But you kept that to yourself.

Now, ten years later, her screams still haunted your nightmares. You woke up drenched in sweat, your skin burning. Trying not to wake Nora, you slipped out of bed and quietly left your dorm. The stadium lights were off—it must’ve been late. You made your way to your sister’s room, but just as you raised your hand to knock, you heard a muffled moan from inside.

Fucking Manny.

A voice echoed down the hallway, making you flinch. Owen.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be asleep?"

"So should you," you retorted, avoiding his gaze. Why did he always have to sound like that? That stern tone reminded you too much of your father.

"I’m guarding this floor, smart-ass."

"Well... I was looking for Abby."

Even from a distance, you saw his expression shift. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice your red eyes or shaking hands.

"Come on. I’ll show you where she’s sleeping."

Owen didn’t ask why you needed your sister. Over the years, he’d learned to respect the bond between you two. And although he often voiced his concerns to Abby about how dependent you’d become on her, she always shut him down, fiercely protective.

The walk was silent. He glanced at you a few times, but you were too exhausted to care about his concern. All you wanted was to be with your sister.

Owen stopped outside a dimly lit room, his hand resting on the door frame. "She’s in here," he whispered, his voice softened by an unusual gentleness. "I’ll be around here if you need anything."

You gave a quick nod, not trusting your voice to stay steady. He lingered for a moment before walking away, his footsteps fading down the hall.

Taking a deep breath, you quietly pushed the door open. The room was small and sparsely furnished, but the faint moonlight spilling through the window made it feel safe. Abby was sprawled on the couch, her body tangled in the sheets, blonde hair tousled across her face.

For a moment, you just stood there, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. It was a sight that brought back memories of nights spent curled up beside her, when she was the only thing that could chase away the nightmares.

You closed the door softly behind you, shuffling across the floor with practiced silence. As you stood by the couch, your shoulders started to shake, the weight of the nightmare pressing down on you again.

"Abby…" Your voice came out as a broken whisper. "Please… I need you."

Her eyes fluttered open, groggy and unfocused at first. But the second she saw you standing there, trembling and small, she was wide awake. She sat up instantly, her arms reaching out. "Oh, bug, come here."

You didn’t hesitate. You crawled into the couch, letting her wrap you up in a tight embrace. Her warmth grounded you.

She stroked your hair, her fingers gentle and soothing. "Another nightmare?"

You nodded against her shoulder, unable to speak as the tears started to flow. She held you tighter, her chin resting on your head. "It’s okay. I’ve got you."

Her words were a soft murmur, but they cut through the terror, easing the knot of fear in your chest. She started to rock you slowly, the rhythm steady and familiar. It didn't matter how many years passed, because Abby would still choose this over and over again. She ignored her heart pounding in her chest, the anxiety creeping in, because in her eyes, you were eight again, covered in your mother's blood, and begging for your big sister.

"I’m here," she whispered, her voice fierce with determination. "Nothing’s gonna hurt you. Not while I’m here."

The room was quiet except for your shaky breaths and her steady heartbeat. Abby’s grip was strong, as if she could shield you from every shadow that haunted your dreams.

Her fingers continued to trace comforting patterns along your back, her presence easing the burning ache in your chest. "You’re safe. I promise."

Your breathing began to slow, the tears finally subsiding. You pressed closer to her, letting her warmth lull you into a sense of security.

Abby shifted, pulling the blanket over both of you. "Close your eyes," she murmured, her lips brushing the top of your head. "I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise."

Her steady heartbeat thumped beneath your ear, and for the first time that night, the screams began to fade. And this time, the darkness felt just a little less frightening.

Your room was a mess of wires, gears, and half-finished gadgets. Sparks flew as you twisted a screw into place, securing the casing of your latest creation. The metallic shell gleamed under the dim light, and you couldn’t help but grin. Just a few more tweaks, and this smoke bomb would be perfect.

The world always felt quieter when you were working on something—when your hands were busy, and your mind was racing with ideas.

A soft knock pulled you from your concentration. You looked up just as Abby stepped into the room.

"Hey bug," she said, her voice careful, gentle. Too gentle. "Got a minute?"

You set down the screwdriver, nodding at her.

Abby hesitated, her eyes scanning the cluttered room before resting on you. "You’ve been busy," she noted, nodding to the gadgets scattered across your desk. "This one’s new?"

You followed her gaze, your chest warming with pride. "Yeah. It’s a smoke bomb . Should cover about ten yards in thick smoke."

Abby smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "You’re brilliant, you know that?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but before you could reply, her expression darkened. She leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms tightly. "We found him." Her voice was quiet, cautious. "Joel."

Your heart skipped, the name echoing in your mind. You swallowed, looking away. "Oh."

"He’s in Jackson," she continued, "we’re sure this time. It’s really him."

You turned the smoke bomb over in your hands, tracing the grooves in the metal. You knew this day would come sooner or later, and asking if she was going after him was pointless.

"Please don't go" was all you whispered.

Abby was always the strong and fearless one, and she'd been fighting for a long time. No one could change her mind on anything, not Owen or even her dad when he was there. Only you could do that. You were her weakness, her Achilles' heel.

But this was different, and you knew it.

"Please" you repeated, getting close to her.

Abby avoided your pleading eyes, and put her hands on your shoulders. "We're leaving tonight. Get your stuff ready."

You sank into her embrace, heart pounding as the weight of her decision settled over you.

The air was heavy with tension as you paced the old, creaking floorboards of the abandoned house near Jackson. Your gadgets were laid out on the table, half-assembled bombs and tools scattered in organized chaos, but your mind was elsewhere.

Abby had disappeared at dawn without a word, and even if her friends tried to calm you down countless times, you knew something was wrong. You knew your sister, and even if she was impulsive, she was also cautious. She wouldn't take this long.

Manny’s voice broke the silence. "Relax, she’ll be fine. She’s Abby."

You hugged your knees to your chest, perched on the torn couch, unable to shake the unease. "She should’ve told me where she was going."

Nora shot Manny a look, then sat beside you, her hand warm on your shoulder. "She’ll be back soon. Just… try to breathe, okay?"

Hours passed, and Abby finally came back. With company, two men. .

You ignored them at first, running towards your sister and hugging her tight. "You scared the shit outta me."

But Abby didn't hug you back, she moved you softly, pushing you aside. "I know."

You could feel something was wrong as you started biting your nails.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Owen whispered to Abby, unaware of you looking at them. They left seconds after, and your anxiety just worsened up. Everyone chose to follow them, so you did the same. One of the males kept talking to Mel, who kindly answered his questions. The other one, though, kept his mouth shut, his body not relaxing for a second.

"So how long you all been here?"

"Since yesterday." Jordan answered.

"And what are y'all doing out this way?" The other man asked, standing in the center of the room.

You stayed close to the door, not liking the scenario in front of you.

"Oh" Jordan moved closer to Abby. "We're just passing through. You two live nearby?"

"We do. A few hours down the hill. Y'all should come back with us. Restock before you head out."

Mel stayed by your side, crossing her arms. "Appreciate it. I'm Mel, by the way."

The woman moved close to the guy, who shook his hand back. "Tommy. And this is my brother."

"Joel."

Your heart stopped beating then. The environment of the room changed. Everyone seemed to get it, and all of them tensed.

"Y'all act like you've heard of us or somethin'."

Abby’s face twisted, her knuckles turning white around the gun. "That's because they have." In one swift motion, she raised the shotgun and fired right by Joel's knee.

The blast echoed through the room, and Joel’s leg buckled, blood spraying across the floor as he collapsed with a cry of pain.

Your body moved on instinct, stumbling backward until you hit the wall. Your pulse raced, the room spinning as you watched Abby advance on him, her face a mask of fury.

"NO!" Tommy shouted, struggling against his bindings, but two people held him back.

"Get the other one!" Owen screamed back.

Nora acted swiftly and smashed her gun right above his head, knocking him down instantly.

You weren't used to all this violence, and suddenly an urge to throw up overtook you. Why this felt bad? You felt sick.

"Nora? All clear?"

The girl aimed at the man still, looking out at Owen. "He's out."

Now it was Abby's turn to talk, her voice steady. "Put him against the wall."

"Abby, stop!" you got closer to her, even if your legs threatened to stop walking. "What… what are you doing?"

She didn’t look at you, her focus locked on Joel as he writhed on the floor, clutching his shattered leg. "Tommy..."

Two men grabbed Joel's body and pushed him hard against the wall, just as Abby ordered, ignoring the threats that came out of his mouth. The blonde knelt down in front of him, gaze cold. "Joel Miller..."

The man didn’t flinch, his gaze steady as he looked her in the eye. "Who are you?"

Abby’s expression twisted with rage, as her voice shattered. "Guess."

Silence became present inside the suffocating basement.

"Why don't you say whatever speech you've got rehearsed and get this over with."

Abby stood up as she gave the shotgun to Owen, not daring to look at you when she whispered to Mel, "Tourniquet his leg."

Mel stayed still, looking at the blonde confused. Your voice was low when you called your sister name, "Ab-"

"Do it!"

Even Owen looked at her with mixed emotions. But Abby ignored it, and grabbed a golf club. Your nails digger harder and deeper into your palms, suddenly unviable to breathe.

"Don't you fuckin' move."

Mel did as Abby said, even with Joel cursing under his breath.

"Clear out."

Your chest tightened, panic surging through you as the reality of the situation crashed down. "Abby." you warned again, your vision blurry.

Her shoulders stiffened, her jaw clenched. For a moment, you thought she might listen. But then she turned, her eyes cold and empty. "You stupid old man..." she hissed, her voice trembling. "You don't get to rush this."

She hit hard at Joel's leg, making him scream in agony.

"ABBY!" You stumbled forward, your arms reaching out, fingers just grazing her sleeve before Manny’s hands gripped you, yanking you back.

"No! Let me go!" You cried out, tears streaming down your face. "Abby, don’t do this! Please!" Your voice was broken, shattered with fear. "Just let him go!"

But Abby didn’t turn around, she didn't want to face you right now, the golf club trembling in her white-knuckled grip. You should've stayed home, she should've known this would be too much for you.

"Manny. Get her out of here." Her voice wasn't even heard with Joel's grunts. The man stepped forward, his face conflicted.

"Now!" Abby’s voice cracked, raw with emotion. "Lock her upstairs. Don’t let her out until I’m done."

Your chest tightened, panic surging through you. "No, no, no! Abby, please!” You reached for her, but Manny grabbed your arms, pulling you back.

You fought against him, kicking and screaming, but his grip was tight and strong. "I’m sorry, pequeña. I really am," he muttered, "But Abby’s gotta do this."

He dragged you toward the staircase as you screamed, your voice echoing off the walls. "Abby! Don’t do this! Please!"

The last thing you saw before Manny pulled you upstairs was the club coming down, a sickening crack echoing through the house.

The door slammed shut, and Manny locked it with a click. You collapsed against the wall, your body shaking with sobs. You could still hear the screams below as you covered your ears, rocking back and forth as the world crumbled around you.

You'd thought this would bring you relief, justice, maybe even peace. But as you heard every loud thud beneath you, all you felt was horror.

That woman wasn't your sister, the one who held you close and sang stupid pop songs to make you smile, who'd stay awake with you even if that meant she wouldn't sleep at all.

Suddenly, you were in a house full of strangers, full of people blinded by pain and vengeance. You closed your eyes, trying to not suffocate yourself into madness, but you could still see Joel's blood splattered on the walls.

You fell asleep crying not much later. 

author's note: hi! thank you for reading! excited to start this new fic, got so many ideas! please comment your thoughts <3

taglist !

@kaykeryyy

[acexsmhking]

Poly!Brim x GN!Reader

╰┈➤ General Head-Canons for Brian & Tim

Summary: General Head-canons for our two lovely older men

Warning(s): 18+ content, sexual content, GN!Reader, Canon & non-canonical content, personal adaptations

SFW!!

Okay so… this is a.. very weird, complex yet not complex situation

Brian and Tim’s very individual relationship is… unlabeled. It’s so platonically romantic that there just wasn’t a label to fit them

Best way to describe them is soulmates, they just are what they are.. and it’s kinda gay

Brian and Tim have been together like this for years, almost two whole decades. Since back in their college days they’ve been inseparable

You most definitely meet them sometimes after Brian resurrects (he is not dead!!! As they drag me to a padded room)

At first everything is just friendship, it takes awhile to gain their trust, especially Tim’s as he some.. heavy survivors guilt

The romantic part of your relationship starts happening very… uhhh natural?? Not rlly talked about kinda way

At some point those cheek kisses and friend dinners just had a shift in them and none of yall addressed it

It wasn’t until you took them home to meet your family and introduce them as your boyfriends subconsciously that you all had “ohhhhh” moment

I literally cannot explain to how absurdly healthy a relationship with Brian and Tim is. Like it is so emotionally, physically, and spiritually fulfilling

Like whether poly or individual they are so Jowwnoanswn

Ahem. Pardon

Brian is most probably the tallest one, since he is 6’4 and he EATS it up. He just loves when you or Tim call him to grab something that he may or may not have placed too high

Don’t be fooled though, Tim is definitely the strongest one out of pair. He can hold you and Brian

That one couples TikTok

They BOTH spoil the ever loving shit out of you. Like it’s just constant. They come home with flowers or trinkets or something

Brian is the most likely one of out the two to bring you things like rocks and shells

It goes without saying Tim is.. incredibly socially awkward. Although not nearly as bad as when he was younger

When he’s talking to new people he has a nasty habit of picking his fingers, Brian always holds his hands when he’s there and you pick up on this habit. Also holding Tim’s hands

Tim is the middle sleeper. A duty bestowed without his knowledge

He’s just soo cuddly and Brian really likes his leg space

You and Tim both collectively steal Brian’s cloths. His jackets, hoodies, shirts, boxers, pants, shoes. The man can’t even defend himself

You are now Toby’s mom.. figure.. kinda. He’s a little hostile towards you at first (more like a lot) but he warms up to you.

You very much so live an American dream type lifestyle. Gated community, pretty houses, wrap around porch. Whole shebang.

Again I mean… being possessed by a white.. tentacle.. static entity isn’t fun and you miss “basic” forms of living

Meeting Hoodie and Masky though was… well.. something.

Occasionally Masky would just front to hang out with you and Brian. Of course early in the relationship you never knew these “behavioral changes” were him and only Brian did

Hoodie typically only fronts on occasion when Masky is around. He’s still a little mad at Tim and likes making him beg for it

However, seeing them in their clothes that you had once noticed shoved into the corner of the closet was.. scary

They don’t hurt you, but I mean just walking downstairs for water one night and seeing two masked men in your home?? Yeah you reached for the gun

Of course it was a weird confrontation, they can’t talk so they could only give you hand gestures until Hoodie calmed you down enough to grab a piece of paper and pen

Safe to say… you were pissed. In a way. And that’s when you learn about everything. Who they are, what they’ve done, what they do and what Toby is

It bridges a lot of unanswered questions. Questions you never really asked cause again they make you feel so safe and secure your mind kinda just.. goes dumb around them

Hoodie is the most physically affectionate. And I mean.. rlly affectionate. Masky is very.. shy. He has to warm to you a bit before even sitting on the same sofa as you. But once he feels comfortable oh boy

It can be a bit… suffocating

Sometimes Masky will just come and lay on you. And while Masky/Tim aren’t super tall they ARE big boys with some hefty muscle and fat(dad bod Tim<3) … like their cocks OMG WHO

Date nights with Hoodie and Masky then become a thing. Typically at home dates since they feel more safe in their masks, like a barrier from the outside world and anything that can harm them

Masky is now the one bringing you rocks, sticks and shells

Hoodie brings you little flower crowns/rings

The boys LOVE seeing you in their clothes. Masky especially.. try not tease him too much

Jessica is definitely you’re bff, you both have scheduled girls dates to relax and just vent/rant about things and gossip

You also meet Jay but it’s very rare as Hoodie and Masky like to keep you away from them, ESPECIALLY Alex.

You learn to cook for Toby. He surprisingly very specific about very certain things. Not picky. Just specific (he’s picky)

Yeah Brian and Tim don’t let you 20ft from a forest. You are told to stay VERY clear from those and if you hear static not to look up

You learn basic first AID from Hoodie/Brian as Masky/Tim is the one that usually comes home the most hurt

NSFW!!

WOWZA.

Bro, you ain’t getting out of bed LMAO imma be so fr

CAN WE TALK ABOUT BODY-WORSHIP. like these boys will spend at least two fucking hours just worshipping you

Kisses, biting, eating you out, massaging you

THEY ARE SO

Crashing our sorry

First of all, they’re both the kind to like wining and dining first but, if you have those real needy needs, especially after they’ve been gone a while? Yeah you gon find out today

You are 100% between them in some way, shape and or form. And god are you getting CREAMPIED. Tim is definitely more open to cumming without a condom with Brian influencing him

Like the devil on his shoulder LOL

they’re just perverts with an unspoken cum fixation

WHO SAID THAT OMG

Now.. threesome with Masky and Hoodie? May you rest in piece. It’s Masky’s turn to influence Hoodie, making him a little more rougher and uncaring than usual. Wow do y’all have a lot of outdoor sex

PRAISE PRAISE PRAISE PRAISE

Having sex with Tim and Brian is actually so loving it’ll like make you puke. Ugh. #needthat. But also they’re both more than open to uhh.. exploration

HOODIE RECORDS EVERYTHING

Like I mean he edits that shit he is INVESTED

When they’re gone Hoodie will fr just send you videos un-announced a little “thinking about you<3” type thing

Perv

The aftercare; dude. No cause like it’s top tier

Candles, food, shower then a bubble bath afterwards. It’s godly. They will actually DoorDash whatever the fuck you want, spend that money babes they don’t care

That thang is worth every penny to them

LMFAOOO

They lovvvveeee cuddles, so much. Tim/Masky can actually be quite clingy and since Brian/Hoodie are so used to it they fr just encourage it. Sigh imagine laying between them<3

SOMEONE SEDATE ME😭

Brian will never admit it but he loves it when you get your nails done, loves seeing them all pretty wrapped around his cock

Tim lovvveeeessss hair, loves any and all new haircuts you get. Want to decide on a hairstyle? He’s your guy. He will wank that shit too if you have like even the smallest inch

Ngl, Tim’s usual spot is between you and Brian but after sex they both just love cuddling you, like I mean Tim will literally lay you on him and Brian will just be wrapped around you both. Good luck trynna breath

Brian is hiding sex toys that he’s too shy to bring up to you and Tim. Once you find them you actually tease the living hell out of him. Yeah, good luck using those on both of them

HELLO BRIAN/HOODIE PUTTING A REMOTE CONTROLLED VIB IN YA WHILE YOU GUY EAT OUT OR SOMETHING.

Please tell me I’m not the only one.

The mixture of praise and slight degrading/bulling between these two is actually chefs kiss. Delicious

All in all, being with these two is the highest form of honor really and your holes are definitely satisfied LOL

: ̗̀➛ Bro I wrote this forever ago and just like deadass got distracted LMAOOO @an-3moia this is for you pookie. Also y’all Tim will be getting his own fic soon. This will prob be the last fic I post for the day while I work on other things in my bat cave here. Good day my loves — Ace

[solangeloficawards]

solangelo fic awards 2025!

happy february! as everyone always wants to know, we totaled roughly 130+ fics this year! as the last few years, nominations are split up by post, but you can use the masterdoc for convienence! voting will close february 13th <3

vote here!

masterdoc here

by category:

BEST ANGST

BEST AU

BEST BUDDIES

BEST CANON COMPLIANT

BEST WIP

BEST ONESHOT

BEST FLUFF

BEST MISC

BEST SERIES NOMINATIONS:

a sweet tooth for you by @thebhorror

bar trivia AU by @thebhorror & valhallasoundbox @kotenokk

Clichecore au by Gates_of_Ember @gatesofember

dear reader by @wrongcaitlyn

Percy Jackson and the Olympians Actors AU by @damiphantom

The Di Angelo-Solace Paranormal Case Files: Declassified by Anzojin @theshakykid

and our AUTHOR OF THE YEAR areeee:

HandleWithCare @wordsofasarcast (ao3)

langatism @losergender (ao3)

negativefouriq @mediumgayitalian (ao3)

@pey119 (ao3)

snoelled @snoelledarts (ao3)

@thelordofshrimp (ao3)

@wrongcaitlyn (ao3)

voting guidelines:

voting will close on february 13th so that the winners post can be released on the 14th for valentines day! (for realsies this time i promise it doesnt take me as long as nominations lol)

fics are listed in alphabetical order! if your work didnt make it in, there is most likely a reason! you are welcome to message me about it if you wish though and i can let you know why

if your fic was nominated and counted but is missing on one of the docs, whether its here or the poll or the masterlist, please let me know!! i have missed things and had no idea, its ok! please dont be afraid to let me know i've made a mistake!

same goes for if something shows up twice, fic has already won, links are broken, etc etc!

if one of your works has been submitted, you can promote/mention this but a reminder that there's no prize outside of satisfaction, so dont feel too bad if you didn't win! theres always more years!

you aren’t required to vote if you have been nominated, though it is heavily recommended

you also aren’t required to vote in all categories anymore due to popular request, although we heavily advise that you do in order to keep voter count even

if you have been nominated, you are allowed to vote for yourself. just please also be considerate to others and vote for each category!

the google poll will ask for you to sign in just to ensure that you are only voting once. no emails are being collected! that being said, if you are more comfortable voting through ask/message/etc, feel free!

there is a few questions at the end of the poll, although none of them are required so you’re welcome to skip them if you’d like!

this is all just friendly competition, so everyone have fun! be sure to show the writers some love!!! <3

[tadc-harlequin-au]

RagaPom fan kid when🥺?

Jk but I ADORE your art so much i might as well be called a believer of it 🙇‍♀️

Harlequin!Jesterdoll fankid - Anya!

I gotchu homie I should probably also clarify that the fankids aren't canon-

This is Anya, or Aanya Belle. She is Pomni and Ragatha's child, and is the second child puppet to ever grace the world. Quite possibly the most emotional one too, earning her the title "Little Sensitive Poppet". She's sweet and empathetic like Ragatha, but she doesn't have a temper. She instead inherited her harlequin mom's intense emotional reaction, but for other emotions. Her classification is a Mannequin.

She gets scared quite easily and ends up crying for hours, which made Jax give up a teddy bear he had been keeping near and dear to him. Aanya has been never seen without the teddy bear ever since.

Yes, to everyone's surprise, Jax is good with kids.

She has the largest sense of empathy out of anyone, a trait clearly inherited from Ragatha. So much so to the point that she's willing to abandon her "safety spot" (which is any furniture she can hide behind) and comfort you with her teddy bear if she so much as senses you're upset.

Her relationship with her half-brother was a little rocky at the start; Cade was overexcited over the idea of a new playmate (that wasn't Bubble) and kept wanting to bite her fingers off, and so had to be kept in his favorite box to calm him down, and make him get used to his new half-sister's presence. Soon enough, he learned to get along, and eventually, their sibling bond strengthened.

Cade would hug Anya if he notices that she's distressed (which is something that my irl baby brother does and I used it as inspo here) and would not hesitate to step in the big brother role to protect her if there's a threat.

He also attends her miniature tea parties, although for some reason he likes to stay in his box when the tea party commences. He never touches the teddy bear either, and even seems to want to avoid to touch it. Pomni thinks it's because he doesn't wanna end up ruining it.

When Cade turned six months, Ragatha started avoiding Caine, which made the puppetmaster confused. There were no more invites to tea parties, no more friendly talks, and no longer did Ragatha ask Caine if he had another vinyl she could listen to. All the more, Pomni looked extremely guilty everytime they would talk, and looked like she really wanted to tell Caine something.

Caine didn't prod at the girls' relationship, since he knows it's not exactly his concern/nor is it his business. But when one day that Pomni came rushing in to his office for help because Ragatha collapsed in pain, Caine wasted no time rushing to her aid.

Once all symptoms were described to him, he immediately managed to connect the dots that Ragatha's die was also housing two souls, and that it went on for so long, it was already starting to kill her off FOR GOOD. When the puppetmaster asked why she had kept it a secret, Ragatha admitted that she felt guilty; Cade was already in this world and that she had no right to have a child with Pomni, yet here it was.

Caine was immensely disappointed, but not because of the little soul's existence. Instead, he was upset that Ragatha would rather risk her very own life for something so non-trivial, and that the doll was freaking out over nothing. After an intense and dangerous procedure since the incomplete soul's grip onto Ragatha was stronger than Cade's was, Caine managed to extract and transfer the soul, but Ragatha remained unconscious for three moons because of the exertion it took.

He told Pomni to keep the die for now, and wait until Ragatha wakes up, so they can both decide whether they want to keep the little one or not. Pomni, guilt-ridden, questions why he's remained calm, and not exploded over the fact that she and Ragatha created a new existence without his permission, and Caine simply replies "Whoever told you that you both needed my blessing for it, needs their heads bashed in"

Eventually, Ragatha wakes up and apologizes to Caine for giving him so much trouble. The puppetmaster is quick to comfort the mannequin, and that he's relieved that Ragatha survived. He then reassures both Puppets that they didn't have to keep secrets like this from him out of shame, since their polyamory relationship was consensual from both parties in the first place. After a reconciliation, Caine asked the question: Will they keep the soul, or not?

They chose to keep it. And in only a few months thanks to Caine's prior knowledge, Anya was officially welcomed into the world.

[egalitarian-tomboy]

"The body language was intentional." Body Language Difference Between Sonic & Amy vs. Sonic & Tails

Although the DC x Sonic the Hedgehog 4 part mini series is non canon to the mainline story (as far as we know at least...) in one of the previews we got for the first issue we get a moment where we see Sonic grab Tails and Amy for a retreat.

However the difference in how he grabs them is interesting enough to warrant a post of its own.

ABT (Adam Bryce Thomas, artist for the crossover) said the body language was intentional and later on went on to elaborate that Sonic is simply being more gentle with one than the other and that he's not interested in shipping theories nor does he have any personal stake in that realm of fandom. He just said that it'd be more in character for him to have a little tact.

First off: HARD AGREE!

Like don't get me wrong, I've been a Sonamy shipper since I was in Middle School when Sonic X was still on 4Kids TV and SA2 was on the Game Cube but I'm against shipping theories / fan shipping wars getting heated between fans. Like y'all lets calm down these are fictional characters.

Secondly: I'm making this post specifically to talk about the body language in terms of how Sonic personally interacts with Amy vs. Tails in different situations. Because they're both close to Sonic but their bonds differ to an extent. So this is really my excuse to talk about something I've wanted to for a while.

Whether you ship Sonamy platonically, romantically, or you just consider them to be friends. I hope you can at least appreciate the observations in this post. Because it also has some appreciation for Sonic & Tails brotherly relationship as well.

So let's start off with the above body language in question and focus strictly on the hands.

The lines in the panel signify the strength of the grip he has on Amy's hand vs. Tails' wrist. With Amy, Sonic is holding onto her hand gently yet with enough grip to get her attention and to draw her close. While his grip on Tails' wrist is more firm with more like a "Get over here!" level of urgency to it. They both convey the same intention yet Sonic's touch differs depending on the person. Which it should because you don't act the same way towards everyone regardless of who they are 100% of the time. Sonic's no different. Sonic has always been protective of Amy and Tails but with Amy he won't physically harm her or act aggressively with her unless it's for her safety (Like pushing her out of harms way or keeping her from running into danger). So his gentle hold of Amy's hand is a good example of that level of softness he treats her with even though he knows how she's able to handle herself. With his grip on Tails' wrist, it's done in a way that screams "Brothers" to me. The older brother pulling his little brother out of harms way and getting his attention when he's too focused on the wrong thing at the wrong time. He's not being as gentle with him because sometimes Tails requires a bit more force to get his attention when he's invested in what he's doing. But the intention is still the same: Getting him out of danger and taking him along with Amy out of danger.

Next we have this scene from the main series:

Now in this scene, as they're confronting Eggman, the body language between the three of them says a lot more about their feelings in the moment. Sonic is ready to fight and protect, Amy is slightly concerned for Sonic, and Tails is nervous but ready to fight by Sonic's side to stop Eggman. The difference between this scene in the previous scene however boils down to Tails' junction to Sonic in the situation. Instead of being brought out of a situation, Tails is preparing himself to work as a tag team with Sonic or provide backup in a fight. For a while now Tails has been wanting to prove he can be useful to Sonic and help him on his adventures. Which is one of the big motivations for him in the first Sonic Adventure game that rolls into SA2. Most recently in Sonic Frontiers he's expressed his desire to be a hero that Sonic can be proud of, that doesn't need to rely on his help 100% of the time anymore. Which Sonic encourages but reminds him that growing up is learning also that it's OK to rely on others even when you're capable of being a hero that helps everyone. One way that Sonic is letting Tails grow into his own hero is by letting him fight with him and on his own two feet (or in his case with his two tails). Now when you focus on Sonic's body language with Amy close by, he's taking more of a defensive stance with her. Again, even though he knows damn well that she's very capable of handling herself with that hammer of hers, he is still very protective of her. One of his arms is slightly in front of her and he's positioning himself for an attack but he's also capable of taking the full brunt of Eggman's attack if he has a weapon or robot shoot at them. Just because Amy is capable of defending herself that doesn't mean that Sonic will stand by and let her be attacked.

One more scene from the mainline series and then I wanna wrap up this post by talking about the inherent difference between Sonic's relationships with Tails and Amy.

After everything is said and done with the Phantom Rider arc, when they all prepare to head home, Sonic puts his hands around Tails and Amy as they smile and leave together. The thing I want to point out is, similar to the difference in where Sonic grabs them in the DC crossover first issue, Sonic's hand placement is tactful yet at the same time very indicative of his relationships with them. Albeit maybe even a little subconsciously. With Tails his arm is wrapped around his shoulder with his hand wrapped around his arm. Very big brother like and sweet, the clear difference in height is also more pronounced in this interaction. Overall if you were to look at them acting like this and Amy wasn't there it gives the air of two brothers who just got done on an adventure. But when you look at his hold on Amy, you can tell Sonic has a different kind of relationship with her compared to Tails. First off his arm is behind her back with his hand either firmly on her lower back or just close enough to be around her waist. Generally speaking it's traditional for a guy to escort a lady with a hand on her back or around her waist to keep her protected and close so she's safe until she gets where she's supposed to be. But it's worth pointing out that Sonic is becoming more comfortable with his physical interactions with those he's close with. He's a very private guy who doesn't do a lot of PDA with friends, especially with Amy when he knows that she's in love with him and he's "runned away" from her advancements in the past. But after everything is over and the battle has been won, he happily holds her close and walks with her back home. And look at her! She's so happy that he's safe and sound she leans her head against his with her eyes closed. Like she's enjoying the fact he's holding her so tenderly and protectively. If this shot was just him and Amy walking together like this, you would say his smile here was a comfortable yet nervous smile like we've seen in the past where she's given him a hug and he looks a little nervous yet happy.

There are many moments in the Sonic Franchise where we get glimpses into the personal relationships Sonic has with his friends and unfortunately there are a lot of people who think that body language doesn't matter when it comes to understanding a relationship. But body language plays such a huge part when it comes to SEEING how close characters are to each other and how they truly feel about each other. With Tails, Sonic's relationship is that of a brotherhood by bond rather than blood. Sonic's always been there for him and yet he respects and encourages his desire to become more independent as he grows up. He will always be there to help him when he needs help and he will always stand up for him but he won't stop him from becoming a hero himself to fight by his side on equal footing in his own way. Sonic calling him "Little Brother" and "Little Bro" openly and more frequently truly shows how he really considers Tails his family.

With Amy, there is a friendship with her but he doesn't view her in the same sibling way he sees Tails. She's straightforward in her love for him and has openly asked him in the past if he would marry her. She's confessed her love for him openly and maturely to him in the IDW series saying she loves him and she doesn't WANT to change him. He's offered her to come with him on his adventure at the time but she had to help out with the struggling resistance. For Sonic, shyly telling her it isn't ALL or NOTHING is HUGE. Because he wasn't against the idea of her being by his side or adventuring with him after she candidly said she loved him for him. After that there's been a lot more flirting from Sonic's end that can be read as just being playful like he is with others. But when you consider in the past he wasn't the type to flirt back or first AT ALL with Amy, there is an inherent romantic undertone to their interactions. But it shows...if ever so slowly (how ironic)...that Sonic is either becoming more comfortable / open to the idea of a public romantic relationship with her or he's becoming more honest with himself since he's always been interested in her but has always been too shy to confess.

If that was too long for you, TL;DR end summary: Sonic's relationship with Tails is a brotherhood, Sonic's relationship with Amy is a slow burn love story.

Hope you enjoyed reading that because I had fun writing it.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

who were the other characters that brought up ace's potential that you mentioned in the recent post? im not sure if my memory is failing me but did any character ever discuss ace's potential of becoming housewarden or something like that too? i thought i heard it floating around online before

[Referencing this post!]

There’s actually lots of other characters, though I didn’t really include them in the original post because most of these examples are more like general praise for Ace’s skillset rather than his potential to grow even more. Here’s instances I was able to locate (although please keep in mind that this list isn’t exhaustive);

Jamil says Ace is “a deft hand at basketball.” Even as a first year, Ace is trying hard to prove his mettle and earn a proper spot on the team for actual games.

In Endless Halloween Night, Leona clocks Ace's cunning (he knew that Floyd wanted to use someone as a decoy and so stuck close to Leona so that Floyd would default to Epel). "Both your mercilessness and the calculating way you drew close to my strength without hesitation wasn't half bad. I see that the good little boys over at Heartslabyul have more crafty students like you mixed in."

In Malleus's Bloom Broom vignettes, Malleus states, "I must say, for a child of man you do have some redeeming qualities. Though you're "just a freshman", you were more than happy to share your views to get a proper response out of me for the first question. Heh heh, and meanwhile many of my own classmates struggle to even say hello to me."

In Idia's Suitor Suit vignettes, Idia rambles about how Ace looks and acts so cool, like some action hero.

Rook is the one who points out Ace and the others' potential to be polished in book 5; it is based on his advice that Vil decides on the NRC VDC/SDC Tribe that he does. Rook also notices that Ace is very quickly able to mimic the language of moles (in Ace's Dorm Uniform vignettes). "Merveilleux! Such skillful mimicry! You truly did memorize it in one go [...] Mm, yes. The Roi des Roses has fine vassals indeed."

Vil praises Ace in Fairy Gala If for being able to perform a passable runway walk. Other characters that are present during this scene (Lilia, Silver, Jack, etc.) are shocked as well and ask how he was able to do it.

Fellow Honest praises the NRC students (including Ace) and tells them that they have potential to be "stars" on Playful Land's stage. However, it's not clear if he was being sincere here, as he was most likely lovebombing them in order to lure them to the park.

In book 7, Cater calls Ace super cool for standing up to OB Riddle; it gave Cater some courage to fight too! Not many people are capable of doing that.

To my knowledge, there’s no canonical discussion of Ace as a potential dorm leader (unless you want to count his stint in book 1, but he only wanted the crown to knock Riddle down a peg, not because he was the most suitable for the role). That’s purely from the world of fanon, as there’s lots of fan art and theory crafting about whether he or Deuce will succeed Riddle.

[satubby]

◇Yandere Concept◇

•○ 《Ryu Shi-Oh》 ○•

『This is just my own concept but not the general and true view of the character as a yandere, although canonically he may or may not present these... behaviors』

〔Warning ⚠️: This may or may not contain Spoilers for the show in question, please do not read it if you have not yet seen the mentioned K-Drama. In addition, somewhat sensitive topics such as child abuse, drugs, mentions of sex and among others will be included.〕 Postscript: There may or may not be spelling errors, misplaced character pronouns (I'm dyslexic) so I'm sorry for the inconvenience because this was written at night and I was sleepy, and I'm not a fan of English, so this might be bad.

A puppet of the Russian mafia, Ryu Shi-oh is ruthless and unscrupulous. Depending on how you have met him, he will treat you differently. He would most like a Darling who is as lively, positive and almost like the protagonist of the K-drama where he comes from.

》☆ Obsession:

Ryu Shi-oh will take quite a while to trust you, since he has the police and other enemies after his head. However, if you're the gentle type (if you go all in with this yandere, it would be best for both of you), he'll see you as his emotional refuge, the only source of light in his dark life, though that doesn't mean it won't take a little effort for him to be open to you. Despite his yandere tendencies, he feels a desperate need to protect that vulnerable part of himself by sometimes seeming distant (or perhaps he is at first).

Once he is aware of his feelings for you, then things will change (not much but at least he won't always be on guard with you). You will see him as shy, loving (in his own strange way). Of course, he will be somewhat slow in his feelings but VERY loyal once he is sure of them.

》☆ Obsessive Control:

Russian mafia upbringing has instilled in him either consciously or unconsciously, a need for absolute control and even to the point of violence. Ryu Shi-o monitors every move you make (that's only in his facet of having just met you), from his daily interactions to his friendships. Since if it's at the beginning of getting to know you, he wants to make sure there are no betrayals or double-crosses on your part.

On the other hand, if you've known each other for a while, then his vigilance will be more about getting to know you in depth since he is somewhat clumsy in interactions (other than about his work or murder). He will know everything about you, even things you may not even remember. What kind of flowers you like, X item you've been lusting after and so on.

》☆ Dark Gifts:

To express his love, Ryu Shi-oh tends to give you expensive and luxurious things (When he is getting to know you they are more like decoys) But then he gives you things that you might like, as I mentioned in the previous post, but often these carry a hint of double interactions (He stressed, Ryu Shi-oh doesn't trust people much, he has traumas.... Someone get this man some therapy for god's sake!!!).

》☆ Intense Jealousy:

The thought of losing you arouses a fierce rage in Ryu Shi-o. He can become possessive and jealous, going to extreme lengths to keep you tied to his side. His traumatic past contributes to his constant fear of being abandoned or betrayed, he horribly hates lies (This is Canon by the way, he said so himself).

Since he grew up in a precarious and horrible environment, his concepts of love are null to say the least.... he doesn't know anything about the real meaning beyond what is written in books or Google. So when his jealousy is present, he usually lashes out in anger because he doesn't understand or know how to handle his emotions well, that's why he is always stoic and avoids emotional contact with others.

He thinks at the beginning that these emotions are a weakness (because of his upbringing obviously) so you will understand his attitudes and actions at the beginning.

Back to the scenario (depending on whether you work for him or otherwise were Nam Soon's sister, so to speak). However it was, before and after he met you until he gained your trust, his jealousy is powerful and terrifying.

For example, if you deny him or are somewhat alien to his feelings (ahem! Nam soon) then Ryu Shi-oh may or may not threaten those you hold dear or end up killing the subject of his jealousy if provoked enough.

He may or may not send you videos of it, who knows, he's a fucking mafia-bred man.

》☆ Demonstrations of Power:

As CEO of Doogu, Ryu Shi-oh uses his influence and resources to protect you from his enemies, though also to investigate you, but often does so ruthlessly. He uses his position to eliminate any perceived threat (whether real or not, as in the case of being jealous), regardless of the consequences.

When it comes to, for example, demonstrating how happy you could be (excluding that he is a mobster and has a front business for the real thing, drugs) he can afford a whole restaurant for just the two of you or go on trips when he is not busy.

Also when it comes to dealing with you, depending on whether or not you agree to go out with him, he will use his resources. Either way you will end up with him (if you don't want innocent people hurt).

》☆ Hidden Insecurities:

Despite his confident facade, Ryu Shi-o harbors deep insecurities. Fearful that the reader will discover his dark side, he struggles not to show his vulnerability. This can manifest in moments of emotional self-isolation. More common when they are getting to know each other, refusing to accept their emotions more as a passing interest.

When he already falls for you, he refuses to see you leave him for someone else (Or when you don't want more than a friendship) He clings to the feeling you give him or your kindness/courtesy. He has never felt the comfort you give him, you treat him as human and not the tool the Russians used.

》☆ Future plans:

Although his methods are questionable, Ryu Shi-oh looks for love in you. He sees in that relationship an opportunity to find peace and redemption for the sins of his past, even if his actions may be morally ambiguous. He really is a yandere who would give everything for you, though of course after fulfilling his goals.

Since he has experimented on himself, his strength is inhuman and that may or may not lead to use on special occasions... special occasions. Going back to his plans with you,if you behave just by staying out of it, you will have a dream life.... On the other hand, if you are a treacherous liar like Nam Soon (Ryu's own words) Even if he loves and cherishes you, he won't go easy on you.

He will first take it out on your loved ones, then ruining your life until everyone forgets you even exist.... Only then he can stop being angry with you, he is cynical about it.

He will tell you: "But Honey! You did that to yourself... You shouldn't have betrayed me, I gave you everything, I trusted you with my secrets and you were a spoiled whore..... Accept the consequences, only then can we forgive each other."

》☆ Violence as a last resort:

Although he doesn't hesitate to resort to violence towards his subordinates (regarding the real drug business) He never uses it with you as he doesn't want you to see him as someone bad, he tries to keep it as a last resort (We already gave vast examples of which situations can lead him to that) The contradiction between his desire to protect and his ability to be brutal reflects the complexity of his character.

You will always see him as the suave and polite gentleman although distant in his interactions, but as you get to know him better he is just someone traumatized and hurt by his past (He doesn't justify his current actions but he explains why) He never touches a hair on your head if you treat him well (Ryu Shi-oh has the philosophy that his enemies he treats harshly and his allies worse or something similar, what do I know I am just a brat of 18 years old).

》☆ NSFW

》☆ This will be short, but having sex with Ryu Shi-oh is the most sensual thing you could imagine. I won't add much because I need to learn more about the character, well he likes to bite and scratch. He will be slow and very gentle with you when starting this, but when he gets excited like every man he loses his mind and you may or may not end up with whippings or broken bones given his superior strength (literally).

》☆ Ryu loves when you suck his cock or his neck, his favorite parts of your body are those where he can squeeze (female breasts or buttocks). He likes to suck your breasts and play with your neck. His cock is introduced slowly so when you are ready, he gives you everything he has.

》☆ In the end, you will end up tired but satisfied (Unless you have done wrong and Ryu is angry when making love, there it is not smooth and he could even take it out on you due to his jealousy) Afterwards, the care he gives you is soft and sensual, always apologizing for breaking some bones.

In general, having a yandere like him can be a double-edged sword. Ryu Shi-oh can be so kind or cruel depending on your reactions and treatment towards him. It's like swimming on nails, you have to watch where you're going or you'll end up getting hurt.

This is all independent of the K-drama "Nam soon Super Strong Girl" since it is merely my interpretation of this beautiful villain who, from my perspective, didn't deserve so much pain even though he brought it on himself in the end.

[For those anons who asked me for something, I promise that as soon as I get my ideas together I will start writing because I am a mess at this. I could barely do anything right with this yandere concept.]

[artbyblastweave]

I feel like many fan-made parahuman powers are made with a focus on being balanced out and fair, but loads of Worm powers aren't balanced at all. There's also a lack of appreciation for grab-bag, kitchen-sink powersets.

I think this is at least partly due to the context in which people are creating the powersets- they're often intended for TTRPG play, or OC-centric fanfiction, and in both cases there's an incentive to find a sweet-spot for the powersets where they're fun to screw around with and come up with off-beat applications for, but not so absurdly powerful that the characters in question wouldn't be involved in the plot at hand, (either because they solve it immediately or because they get head-hunted by Cauldron.) An additional element (though one I think is less pronounced) is that although the setting does produce gamebreakingly-powerful capes, we also tend to hear about them, because the back half of the book involves all the S-class heavy hitters getting smashed together like action figures. I recall that whenever someone ran a reddit thread on R/Parahumans soliciting ideas for S-class threats, a lot of the best-realized pitches included some implicit justification as to why such terrifyingly powerful figures weren't part of the scene by the time of canon (death, usually.) This isn't something you have to do, it's fanfiction, but I think Worm's worldbuilding is such a big part of the draw that it often selects for creators who want to work with it rather than with indifference to it.

Grab-bag and kitchen sink powersets are their own thing; they're just horribly-effort-intensive to write. Wildbow came up with like a dozen pretty good ones because it was his job and his creative baby and he wanted the interpersonal entanglement inherent to the concept to be one of the thematic tentpoles of the book (jury's out on whether this worked.) If you're not planning to write millions of words about the fuckers (and some people are! Godspeed) it can be difficult to muster up the level of effort that it takes to do it well. It invites the use of at least one spreadsheet if not more

[lambmotifz]

it shouldn’t be a question whether romantic/sexual wincest is one sided or not, because it couldn’t be more obvious in canon: dean is the only one shown to be weird about his brother in a way that blatantly suggests sexual subtext. the most delicious example isn’t even the siren (although it is very telling that kripke decided to dedicate a whole episode to dean’s obsession with his little brother and his desire to have control over him). it’s the prison scene where one of the prisoners says “you’re mine, baby” to sam and dean’s immediate response is letting sam know that he’s safe because he’s dean’s bitch (“don’t worry sam, i won’t trade you for smokes”)

[vixstarria]

A night at the inn (part 1)

A night of relaxation at the inn. Inspired by a cursed screenshot of Astarion looking loopy, drunk and high.   

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, tbc in part 2

Comfort, fluff, humour, banter, goes from very silly to very horny 

Bits that are definitely not canon that were written solely for my (and hopefully your) amusement. 

TW: It’s all very much in jest, but maybe give this one a skip if you’re struggling with any kind of substance addiction.  

Approximately 2,000 words 

AO3

“Don't be ridiculous, these silly druidic herbs have absolutely no effect on me, vampires have a natural immunity. Pass me the pipe again, I’ll prove it,” Astarion giggled uncontrollably.  

“Just hold on to it, friend, I don’t think anyone else will benefit from it,” replied Halsin. 

You, Astarion, Halsin, Karlach and Shadowheart were gathered in one of the inn’s rooms.  

Gale and Wyll were off doing whatever people who didn’t like having fun did. Possibly playing chess or reciting poetry to each other. And Lae’zel had had one look at your gathering before chk’ing, saying that someone competent needed to keep a cool head, and stalking off. 

You and Astarion were sitting crosswise on one of the beds, you nestled between his legs, your back against his chest. Shadowheart lounged on the opposite bed, with Karlach and Halsin settling on the floor between the beds.  

A scattering of glasses and opened bottles surrounded you, and a light haze hung in the air. Tadpoles, vampire lords, demons and gods could all wait until tomorrow. Tonight, for all you cared, all was well in your world.   

Earlier, Halsin had laid out an assortment of herbs, most of which you couldn’t name, and busied himself with mixing them in varying proportions and stuffing them into several smoking implements. Karlach had declined, saying there was no point and that she would stick to grog. You and Shadowheart partook in Halsin's ‘herbalist mastery' together with the druid. And now, to everyone's disbelief and amusement, so did Astarion. 

“What in the hells is in this?!” Astarion tittered, leaning back against the wall, his eyes shut and an idiotic smile on his face. You couldn’t look at him, lest it set off yet another chain reaction of giggling. 

“Part of it is moonflower, which mostly serves as an amplifier,” Halsin answered, cautiously. 

“And? What else?” You wondered whether whatever it was might help Astarion with his nightmares. The scent of the herb was vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place what it was.  

“Wait! I want to guess.” Shadowheart leaned over to whisper to Halsin. He shook his head at her suggestions. Once he whispered back to her with the correct answer she collapsed on the bed with a guffaw. “Oh gods... So it is official.” 

“Halsin...” Astarion croaked. “Halsin, I will stab you... What did you give me?!” 

“I had a hunch, but it was intended as a joke – I didn’t really think it would do anything.” Halsin almost sounded apologetic.  

“Well, spill the beans, what is he smoking that’s so damned funny?! Vampire dust? Cow dung? Some kind of goblin foot fungus?” Karlach was also growing impatient.  

Halsin shook his head, laughing.  

“It’s catnip,” Shadowheart managed, still doubled over. “He’s losing his mind on catnip!” 

Once Astarion regained his ability to speak coherently, you couldn’t get him to shut up.  

Astarion hardly ever took lead in group conversations. He tended to stay on the outskirts of discussions, albeit always ready with a quip or observation. You wondered if his newfound loquaciousness was a glimpse of what he might have been like some 200 years ago. 

It helped that Karlach was bombarding him with questions about vampirism, which he was ordinarily reserved about.  

“So what happens if you consume normal food? Can you drink?” she asked. 

“Well... Kind of..? Although I think the tadpole has had some additional influence. I can drink liquids without becoming ill, as long as it’s not too much. They tend to taste vile or like nothing at all, or not have any effect on me. Coffee smells amazing but tastes like dirt, for example. But potions work, somehow,” he rambled. “Solids are a complete disaster though”. He refused to elaborate.  

“And the wine?” she persisted.  

“Red wine is palatable,” he said, swirling some in a glass that he held in his hand. “But if you want better than ‘palatable’ you really need something of good quality.” 

“You’re just a snob,” you interjected. 

“That may be so, but this is about having something called standards, darling, I’ll teach you about them someday”, he said with a kiss to your temple, as you elbowed him. “But there are ways of going around poor wine.” 

Astarion took your hand in his, pressing his lips against it. 

“May I?”  

Once he had your approval, he carefully punctured the tip of your ring finger with a fang. You idly mused about how completely unfazed you had become by having your skin pierced, as he dripped some of your blood into his wine. 

“Now stir.” He licked the drops of wine from your finger once you were done, and had a sip from his glass. “Like adding honey to tea... Now it’s delectable.” 

“Freaks,” said Karlach, lovingly.  

The conversation moved to him debating wines from various regions with Shadowheart, a subject they were both perhaps unsurprisingly well-versed in.  

“How kind of Lady Shar to leave you such detailed knowledge of something that truly matters, when wiping out so many other memories,” he observed.  

Eventually, the topic changed to Karlach’s years in the Hells, and what it had been like to set just about everything she touched ablaze until Dammon’s recent assistance.  

“Could you do me a favour and hold my hand in yours for a moment?” said Astarion, leaning towards and holding out a hand to Karlach.  

“I haven’t done this in so long this still makes me nervous, you know,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers. “Sorry if I lose my cool and burn you.” 

“I’m sure I’ve had worse,” he replied humourlessly. “...That should do it,” he said after a short while. “Gods, you really do run like a furnace.” You wondered where this was going.  

“Now could everyone look away? I’m about to do something disgustingly sentimental.” 

Immediately, four pairs of eyes including your own were locked on him.  

“Voyeuristic pricks...” he sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

He ran the back of his fingers delicately down your cheek before cupping it in his hand. It was warm, almost hot, as you nuzzled into it.  

“Well isn’t that cute,” Shadowheart remarked into her glass of wine.  

Astarion wasn’t always cold to the touch, not exactly. He became warmer after drinking blood. His body was heated by sunshine on sunny days, just like anything else. And after spending some time under blankets with you he felt almost cozy to snuggle against. But he’s never radiated heat the way the hand against your cheek did now.  

“It doesn’t feel like you,” you mustered, looking into his eyes. He gave you a wistful smile.  

“...If there is any other bodypart you’d like me to warm up for Tav’s benefit, do fuck off before you even ask,” said Karlach, breaking the brief silence that had descended onto the room, and the tender moment was gone, overtaken by yet another uproar of laughter. 

Things quieted down as the evening wore on. 

“I wonder what Lae’zel is doing,” said Shadowheart, who had been silently gazing off into space and occasionally blowing smoke rings for the past while. “Probably something infuriating.” 

“You should go tell her how utterly unimpressed you are with her,” goaded Astarion. 

“I should... I will,” she said, suddenly getting up, determination writ on her face, exiting the room with a surprisingly steady step. 

Karlach sighed. 

“I better go look after her and make sure they don’t need to be taken apart. ...Or that no one else does, if they don’t.” She followed Shadowheart.  

“Nature calls,” said Halsin, also getting up. “And I don’t think anyone’s fed Scratch and the owlbear cub.” 

It was just you and Astarion, who had been grazing your neck with his fangs with increasing impatience. 

“Do it,” you said as soon as the door shut behind Halsin. Instantly, you felt an icy chill in your neck and released a small moan as he bit down, drawing your blood, his hands roaming your body.  

“I’ve been thinking of nothing else for hours,” he breathed hoarsely, once he had his fill. Having a miniscule amount of your blood in his wine and then being unable to sate himself more thoroughly would have been the ultimate tease for him. He really did not think that through, per usual.  

You could have offered him your wrist at some point, your companions had witnessed that on numerous occasions. But you knew you both wanted something more intimate. And private.  

You sank onto the bed with Astarion on top of you, as he continued to lick at the puncture wounds, to get them to stop bleeding.  

“Think Halsin’s coming back?” you murmured.  

“Of course he is. Haven’t you seen how he’s been looking at us?” He wedged his hips between your legs as he continued to suck and lick at your neck, more slowly now.  

"Oh, has he been looking at us in some particular way?” you feigned ignorance. Astarion raised his head briefly to shoot you a look that said ‘oh please’.  

“Do you want him..?” He rolled his hips deliciously into yours as he asked that.  

“Stop teasing,” you whispered. You knew he wasn’t going to let you do anything with the erection you felt pressed against you. 

“Never. Do you want him?” He gave you a mischievous look.  

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Sorry darling, I’ll try to do a better job at explaining.” He raised himself back up, his face hovering just above yours. “Do you want to feel his hot, hard cock pumping in and out of you, while I watch?” He studied your reaction closely. “Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you..?” 

“Astarion-” It wasn’t easy to make you blush, but somehow he always found a way when he wanted to.   

“Shh love, I already know everything you’re going to say.” Astarion raised his voice in pitch (resulting in something that definitely DID NOT sound anything like you) and returned to your neck, planting a kiss further down with each sentence: “’I love you, Astarion. I only want you, Astarion. I don’t think you’re ready for this, Astarion. You’re going to regret this, Astarion.’” 

“How about, ‘you’re intoxicated, Astarion’?” 

“Barely,” he scoffed. “It’s worn off.” He tugged at your blouse’s lacing with his teeth. 

“Or maybe it’s ‘no, I don’t want that, Astarion’,” you lied.  

He chuckled at those words and came back up to whisper in your ear. 

“My love... You’re forgetting I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell your arousal. Every time your breath hitches and your heart speeds up – I know. Any time blood suddenly rushes somewhere in your body – I know...”  

“That is an entirely unfair advantage,” you protested. 

“Yes, having a lover that anticipates your every need and reads you like a book is so, so tragically unfair, your poor, poor thing...” 

“And also it’s not what you said, it’s how you said it!” you continued. 

“Porridge,” Astarion whispered in his most seductive voice, grinding against you. “The philosophy and theory of divination, volume four. A bulging coin purse. Gale’s purple pajamas. ...Nope, nothing.” Astarion smirked, and continued in a more normal voice, stilling. “Now let’s try... You dripping wet and begging us both for mercy before the night is over.” He grinned wryly as you let out an involuntary whimper. “I thought so...” 

“You’ve told me yourself, you don’t want to share me with anyone,” you persisted.  

“It’s your heart I can’t bear to share. And he’s a wood elf,” Astarion said dismissively. “He may as well be a walking penis, who would get emotionally involved with that?” 

“You did not just call our honourable companion, the esteemed archdruid of the Emerald Grove a walking penis!” you hissed, choking on laughter, covering his mouth with your hand.  

“A giant phallus on legs,” Astarion mumbled stubbornly against your palm, licking it.  

You heard footsteps approaching the door.  

“Do you really want this?” you whispered, angling Astarion’s face to make him look you in the eyes, and releasing his mouth. “Be serious for a second.” 

“I want this,” he said, holding your gaze. “I really want this. As long as you do too.” 

The door opened, and you both turned your heads to regard the tall, broad figure that paused in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe.  

“Is it company or privacy you desire?” 

~~~~~

Part 2

More of my chaos gremlins

AO3

[offtorivendell]

There's something about Merrill

Disclaimer: this is a theory that makes no claim of being canon. It's been percolating in my mind since 2021, I'm just finally getting down to posting it, although not as part of the "Lightsingers in the Library" meta I keep delaying - that will hopefully happen soon. Ish. 🫣

Spoilers: ACOTAR series only, nothing from the extended Maasverse.

These two lines, both from Azriel's bonus chapter in ACOSF, have bugged me no end since 2021:

Fury was a moonless night on Rhys' face.

Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Amongst my friends, I have previously suggested - but never fully discussed on Tumblr - that Merrill may be inspired by the Erinyes (also known as the Furies) of Greek mythology, and that she may have been acting on Koschei's behalf (though not necessarily as his true ally, I still think any involvement on her behalf will be complex) throughout ACOSF. The notion that Merrill may be a spy is not a new one, as many of us found her suss right off the bat, but I haven't seen this take on the theory before.

Has Koschei been using Merrill to spy on - or "witness" - the Inner Circle or others, and even possibly on Winter Solstice evening, having been tipped off by Death's shadows (who are monitoring the situation in Velaris), or by using her own ties to the murky realm?

Merrill laughed, that phantom wind around her whispering. "Do you not know who I am, girl?" "I know that you are keeping us from our work," Nesta said with that flat calm she knew made people irate. "And I know that this is a library, but you hoard books like it is your own personal collection." Merrill bared her teeth. "You think I do not know you? The human girl who was shoved into the Cauldron and came out High Fae. The female who slew the King of Hybern and held up his head like a trophy as his blood rained upon her." Surprise lit Gwyn's face at the graphic description. Nesta didn't allow herself to so much as swallow. "The wind whispers to me even here, under so much stone," Merrill said. "It finds its way in through the cracks and murmurs the goings-on of the world in my ear." Merrill snorted. "Do you think you are entitled to do as you please now?" Nesta's power rumbled in her veins. She stomped on it, shoved it down and strangled it. "I think you like to hear yourself talk too much." "I am descended from Rabath, Lord of the Western Wind," Merrill seethed. "Unlike Gwyneth Berdara, I am no lackey to be dismissed." To hell with this witch. To hell with restraint and hiding. - ACOSF, chapter 29

Merrill claims to descend from Rabath, the Lord of the Western Wind, but many - myself and @wingedblooms included - have long questioned whether her "twilight eyes" hint specifically at some sort of Dusk (or Starborn) heritage. Would this be why she is able to understand the wind (which I suspect speaks Wyrd), just as I think both Azriel and Elain can speak the language of "shadow, wind and stone"? Can she also understand shadow and stone, as well, and is this how she was able to hypothetically spy on, and maybe even control Rhys on solstice evening?

In addition to being Chthonic goddesses of vengeance, or personified curses, some sources suggest that the Furies or Erinyes possibly began their mythological lives as the ghosts of the murdered, especially those concerned with children murdering their parents; this ties in nicely with the Slavic Rusalki, which many have discussed in terms of lightsingers (see @silverlinedeyes, @wingedblooms and @merymoonbeam), but it might also fit with the wards set around Velaris, which were made by a past High Lord spilling his blood into the earth as the spell was cast.

No one in the other courts knows of its existence, either.” “How?” “Spells and wards and my ruthless, ruthless ancestors, who were willing to do anything to preserve a piece of goodness in our wretched world.” - ACOMAF, chapter 15

“To preserve it,” Rhys continued, “he kept it a secret, and so did his offspring, and their offspring. There are many spells on the city itself—laid by him, and his Heirs, that make those who trade here unable to spill our secrets, and grant them adept skills at lying in order to keep the origin of their goods, their ships, hidden from the rest of the world. Rumor has it that ancient High Lord cast his very life’s blood upon the stones and river to keep that spell eternal. - ACOMAF, chapter 29

Given what we learnt from Silene in HOFAS, it is unlikely that Merrill was actually the High Lord (Lady) who was sacrificed, but was she their child, or related in some way? Did she possibly wield the knife herself? She was almost certainly high born, we just don't know how high, but regardless - if the Erinyes sprang from Uranus' blood as it hit Gaia/Earth, what if Merrill's metaphorical journey began as the High Lord's blood hit the ground in Velaris?

She knocked on the shut wood door. "Enter." Nesta opened the door to a rectangular cell of a room, occupied by a desk on the far side and two bookshelves lining both long walls. A small pallet lay to the left of the desk, a blanket and pillow neatly aligned. As if the hooded priestess with her back to Nesta sometimes couldn't be bothered to return to the dormitory to sleep. - ACOSF, chapter 13

Merrill turned at that, and Nesta was greeted with a surprisingly young face—and a stunningly beautiful one. All the High Fae were beautiful, but Merrill made even Mor look drab. Hair white as fresh snow contrasted against the light brown of her skin, and eyes the color of a twilight sky blinked once, twice. As if focusing on the here and now and not whatever work she'd been doing. She noted Nesta's leathers, the lack of any robes or stone atop her braided hair, and demanded, "Who are you?" - ACOSF, chapter 13

Gwyn mastered herself enough to say, "I don't know how, but Merrill learned you swapped the book out." She gasped for air as she pointed up to a level high above. "You should go." Nesta frowned. "Who cares? I'm not going to let her scare me off like some errant child." Gwyn blanched. "When she's in a fury, it is—" "It is what, Gwyneth Berdara?" crooned a female voice from the stacks. "When I'm in a fury, it is what?" Gwyn winced, turning slowly as the white-haired beauty appeared from the gloom. Her pale robes flowed behind her as if on a phantom wind, and the blue stone atop her hood flickered with light. Gwyn bowed her head, face paling. "I meant nothing by it, Merrill." - ACOSF, chapter 29

Where Nesta had been in contented silence before we found her, Elain's silence was... hollow. Empty. Her hair was down-not even braided. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen it unbound. She wore a moon-white silk dressing robe. She did not look, or speak, or even flinch as we entered. Her too-thin arms rested on her chair. That iron engagement ring still encircled her finger. Her skin was so pale it looked like fresh snow in the harsh light. I realized then that the color of death, of sorrow, was white. The lack of color. Of vibrancy. I left Cassian and Rhys by the door. Nesta's rage was better than this shell. This void. - ACOWAR, chapter 15

IF Merrill is the ghost of a murdered faerie (or if the fate of the ghost of her ancestor is being used to control her), then the following would make a lot of sense:

Merrill's room was described as a cell - I suspect she may be trapped in service to Koschei, but also that she might be acting as a double agent against him

The dormitories have windows which would allow for easier access to her - maybe she sleeps in her study to avoid unnecessary contact with Koschei winds

She was wearing a hood, and even blinked herself back to the present, which could tie in nicely with both @wingedblooms and my theories that discuss Elain and her powers - specifically the way she appears to blink when she has a vision/comes out of it (here) or the way she may need darkness to access her powers/the murky realm (here)

Merrill has hair the colour of "fresh snow," and Elain's skin was described the same way - death and misery

Elain's "moon white" dressing robe could be further tying her to (as of ACOWAR) an unnamed priestess whose story might intersect with hers one day

Whom might she be seeking vengeance against? Did someone lie to her, or swear a false oath?

Now of course, these could all be plot seeds that have since been given away to others, but I know I'm not alone in thinking that Elain's journey will still involve the priestesses in some capacity, even after the latest couple of books. How important is it that Elain and Merrill might both be able to access the space between, and will they ultimately work together, or against each other? Only time will tell, but I do think it's suspicious that Rhys has been acting off, and "fury" was a "moonless night" on his face. Moonless. Was he - or the person who was hypothetically controlling him - free or hidden from the Mother/Wyrd? Compromised by Death, or the Deathless? Has Merrill been channelling Koschei, or acting as his conduit? Is she the Night Court mole, or a member of the IAFT headcanon that I love so much (shared by @silverlinedeyes and @merymoonbeam), or both?

It has to mean something, even if it's just that Merrill's illustrious ancestor became the Suriel lol. I hope to discuss at least one of the possible theories soon. 🤞🏻

[inkpot909]

Staying Over at Rohan Kishibe’s House for the First Time Headcanons

↳ Takes place after Kira escapes from the Duwang gang and assumes another identity. Reader hinted to be a stand user. Gender neutral Reader with they/them pronouns.

A/n: I’ve recently started the live action Thus Spoke Kishibe Rohan show; I adore it. I’m rather biased towards his character, finding him wildly entertaining. But Araki, man, I get you. I hope y’all enjoy! <3

Warning(s): Canon-typical danger; mentions of Kira’s crimes and the threat he imposes.

You’ve only been going out with Rohan Kishibe for a month or two.

When the manga artist took a month’s long hiatus from publishing- due to a rather unfortunate scuffle with one Josuke Higashitaka -you’d been by his side nearly day and night. Considering the state his body was in, you couldn’t help but fuss over him all throughout his recovery.

The first couple of days, Rohan was bitter and insisted his own independence.

He claimed he ‘doesn’t need anyone's help,’ but his protests ultimately fell on deaf ears. You made it clear you weren’t budging; proving to be just as stubborn as he is.

A handful of days into the new routine, he grew quiet.

And to your credit, you didn’t bat much of an eye at that. If you were at all curious over the change in his behavior, you kept that to yourself. Keeping any questions inside as you continued to dote on him. He… found that he really appreciated that.

And after some consideration, the free time allowing him to ponder, he better understood just how much he appreciates you. Wrapping his head around it… he would’ve grown annoyed at the trouble if it weren’t for his fondness for you.

Eventually, after the first week, it seemed to you that he suddenly started silently accepting your help out of the blue.

There was no pushing back against the assistance anymore.

Rohan needed to take the time off from writing or drawing, liking it or not. Having specifically your company to fill the time… well, he could’ve done worse (His exact words).

Whether or not Rohan had the beating coming didn’t once cross your mind; only your concern over his well-being plagued your thoughts. It’s something that came so naturally to you; the feelings you harbor for the mangaka not as much of a hassle for you to digest.

That said, neither did the possibility of him taking any note of your kindness reach your train of thought. At first, you figured him saying any variation of ‘thank you’ was just politeness.

Even less… your deeper affection for him is another thing you figured would go unaddressed.

Regardless of your surprise, the time spent together proved to be the final push the both of you needed to make things official.

He was direct, almost blunt, when asking you about your feelings for him. Eyes focused on you, falling expectantly silent as he waited for an answer.

When did he notice? How long had he been sitting on asking you about it? You could only guess.

But the relationship that formed that day was more than enough for you to be thankful you’d been completely honest with him.

It’s… rather unfortunate a relationship blossomed during such a dark time for the quiet town of Morioh. Koichi, Josuke, and Okuyasu shared the same sentiment on the matter.

Fast forward a handful of weeks later and tragedy struck once more. The killer had taken action against a middle schooler; his devilish nature clearly knowing no bounds.

Although you didn’t know the boy personally, just the thought of this illusive killer taking a young life so completely without hint or warning… it quickly sent shivers down your spine.

After meeting with the other stand users in town, the lump in your throat only became thicker. Your stomach swirling, and palms growing clammy.

The little crowd dissipated, and you walked away from the gathering with Rohan at your side.

The two of you remained silent; too much on both of your minds to speak.

Your gaze stayed fixated on the concrete sidewalk. Each crack or indent from lifetimes of personalities meeting it’s support… and possibility being used by him. Your feet potentially using a route the killar has utilized at least once in all his time in Morioh.

That possibility makes another chill roll down your spine.

You would’ve thought yourself to be paranoid if it weren’t the reality you were living. Succumbing to your darkest thoughts and a level of anxiety that somehow kept your body moving forward on auto-pilot.

At least, that was until the mangaka walking beside you finally spoke up, not even glancing your way as he did so.

“You should stay at my place for the time being,” he had told you in a frank tone, “Your stand still hasn’t fully materialized like mine or the others. If the killer were to track you down, you’d likely be at a huge disadvantage. You’re staying with me.”

If it were coming from anyone else, you’d consider slapping them due to the nerve of it.

But this is Rohan... and reading into his actions has become second nature to you at this point.

You considered his earlier quietness; what you could discern from a quick glance minutes ago. His eyes sharp with thought, and the usually comfortable silence uncharacteristically thick with tension.

His decisive tone didn’t come as a surprise, but the commanding structure and choice of his words got the gears in your mind turning.

Rohan’s reasoning was sound, sure, but a man like him only ever speaks with purpose. He means every word that pools from his lips. And the knowledge of how he behaves in less extreme situations implicitly reveals his true feelings on the matter:

He was worried.

The killer’s ability to murder right underneath everyone’s noses became real that day. Even with the previous killings, it didn’t strike the same chord until one of your own had been lost. No one is untouchable, and that strikes fear.

In short, the killer is dangerous... and likely knows people are out looking for him.

Rohan would never speak a word of it, but that reality struck unease even into him. If not maybe for his own sake, but for yours.

And it manifests exactly as you would expect. It could easily be left unnoticed, but you know him better than to miss such a thing.

Rohan’s motivation was clear in no time at all. The town just lost another child to this monster. Hell if he’s going to let you to slip right from underneath his nose.

Coupled with that overwhelming weight, as well as his own personal habits, don’t expect staying over at his place to feel all that domestic as soon as you cross through the front door.

Rohan cares about you, of course, but that’s not going to stop him from making a beeline to his office the moment he’s inside.

His home is familiar, no doubt, but provides no ease with him locked up inside his workroom.

There isn’t a single noise behind the closed door, letting your mind trick yourself into believing you’re alone.

The bare walls and simple furniture don’t assist much either, even with art hung up on display here and there. Only glimpses of personal touch.

As soon as the killer is dealt with, you resolve to press him about decorating more.

Hours pass your very first day there, and the only time you ever see him is when he grabbed a little box of leftovers from the refrigerator for dinner. Only focused on satisfying his body’s need for food, he hadn’t said a passing word.

You knew better than to expect it anyway.

Instead, he simply warmed the food up in an expensive-looking microwave a room away, and was already working on shoving it impatiently in his mouth while walking right back upstairs...

How long has it been since then? you wonder, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

You’ve sat yourself on Rohan's welcoming couch, distracting yourself with late night television. The couch itself is a dull color with nice cushions, but lacking in the household-to-household personality only developed from frequent use. A blanket is lazily wrapped around your shoulders, and the TV screen gently illuminates your face. Your eyes gloss over the images that flash at you, seeing but not registering a single thing.

There’s no helping it. A child died today; the killer slick and tactful enough not to leave a single trace behind.

You turn away from the screen in quiet defeat, gaze wandering out a window in the living room. The sun has long vanished beneath the horizon, the darkness outside not allowing you to view much of anything.

Your eyelids are fighting to stay open despite your mind’s business.

A part of you was hoping Rohan would’ve come out of his study by now, but that’s proven to be wishful thinking. Honestly… I should know better than to assume that, you think to yourself.

The current situation has undoubtedly given him a lot to ponder; a lot to write down.

Staring back towards at his living room TV once more, you give no honest effort in trying to paying attention. The sitcom provides no escape, no relief. It’s nothing real, after all. Just a fantasy fabricated by some executive. The constant laugh tracks grating on the eardrums. The volume is low, but it still disrupts regardless.

Alas, nothing else of such promising whimsy is on.

Your fingertips curl, grasping at the blanket around your shoulders. The soft surface stresses in your tight hold. You bite your lower lip in consideration, so hard you have to cut it out less you accidentally cut any skin.

The show takes a sudden pause to provide a few minutes of advertisements. Images of impossibly tempting pizza and seafood flicker on the screen, price tags proudly displayed and narrations enthusiastically going on about how ‘worth it’ the food is. Your lips tighten, and eyebrows furrow. You’re not hungry, so the images do nothing but annoy.

Still, you do anything to ensure you’re still awake for just a little while longer. A necessary factor in the decision your mind finally screamed at you to just follow through with.

Go say goodnight to Rohan, and just go to freaking bed already.

Moving carefully slow, you work on shutting down the TV and peeling yourself from the couch. You swear the process takes minutes at a time, though you don’t check the clock hanging on the wall to confirm. You’d have to squint in order to properly digest it in the dark lighting; why extend the effort?

Mentally saying goodbye to the living room with a final glance, your feet scrape the wooden flooring to move your body towards the stairs ascending to the second floor.

You’re cautious of making any noise while walking steadily closer to his study, keenly aware of your boyfriend’s need for peace and quiet.

Stopping right in front of the closed door, you take in a deep breath before knocking as lightly as you can muster. Knowing full-well he’d have heard it, you don’t wait for a response before entering.

It’s a privilege you gladly wear on your sleeve.

“Rohan…?” you gingerly call, poking your head into the room.

It’s dimly lit inside, only his desk lamp illuminating whatever it is he’s hunched over. No sunlight is present outside, yet the shades are drawn anyway.

There’s a brief pause before he turns his body around in his chair, looking at you with a raised brow. “What do you need?” he asks.

The tone of his voice is a soft reflection of a gentle atmosphere present in the air. Much more welcoming than the walk earlier. That said, there’s impatience laced in his tone- something that he never cares to hide.

You smile, thankful of his subtle movements.

Sure, he doesn’t like being interrupted by anyone. But even Koichi would be met with a harsh word or two at an interruption.

But you’re different. A familiar and welcome presence. If it weren’t getting so late, he may have offered you to look at what he’s been working on. It’s a fact that either feeds right into your ego or is too flustering to ponder further.

Maybe somewhere in between.

“I was just going to head to bed… I wanted to say goodnight and-” you rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “-I’m also wondering where I should sleep is all. You’ve got a lot of empty rooms, so I just wanted to make sure-“

“Just sleep in my bed,” he cuts you off, the tone of his voice completely serious.

“I-… your…” you hesitate, taken aback by his bluntness. Rohan is truly something else; causing you to short-circuit with five simple words. “But where will you sleep?”

God, I sound ridiculous, you think.

A chuckle escapes his lips, turning to look down at his desk once more. You hear a distant scraping noise, evidence that he’s started drawing again.

“You know we’re dating, right? I’m still going to work for a while longer. But I’ll join you in bed later.” He tells you, leaning his head back momentarily as if this conversation is a tad bit pointless to him. Still, he adds with a sigh, “But of course, if that would cause you discomfort, then feel free to take the guest bedroom across from mine.”

You shake your head slowly, even though he’s no longer looking at you. Stay in a different room? No way. His sigh tells you he finds that idea undesirable as well.

“I’ll stay with you. I wouldn’t want to be alone tonight anyways. Goodnight then… make sure you get some rest, Rohan,” you say, voice considerably gentler than before.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he responds. “And since you’re telling me to do so… then I’ll consider it.”

You can hear the smile in his voice.

He was just so… upfront about it.

Your eyes stay widened even as you shut his office door. Standing completely still right outside his work space for a full minute before daring to peer down the hallway leading to the master bedroom.

His bedroom… the one he so casually welcomed you to join him in.

That warms your chest for the first time in hours. The smallest amount of comfort is provided just seeing him again. Remembering, oh right, he’s in the same space as you.

But the added prospect of sleeping at his side… that manages to pull your mind away from Morioh’s affliction.

How could you hope to refuse a suggestion like that?

You begin to make your way to the room, but your feet do not drag this time around.

If Rohan said it’s okay, then it really is. There’s no need to doubt yourself when he’s invited you so clearly; he’d be offended if you didn’t take his word for it.

Inside the bedroom is neat and clean.

A little bare, granted, but there is some more artwork hung up on the wall- evidentially an unsurprising consistent in his home. There’s a mirror above a large wooden dresser as well- a photo of his parents sitting on top of the mahogany surface.

The dresser itself is a little redundant, considering a walk-in closet across the room. Or maybe it’s perfectly reasonable. You hardly ever see Rohan wearing the same outfit twice.

The door itself is left thoughtlessly open, the darkness within the confined space making your stomach churn. No windows present inside, it’s the purest void in the home.

You make your way to it in just a couple quick steps, and shut it with a frown on your face.

The door’s soft click shut causes a huff to leave your nostrils, as if you’d just saved yourself from something life-threatening.

The only other notable object in the room, aside from two nightstands, is a large bed.

It’s the only thing within eye-shot not meticulously put together. Sheets and blankets left on the mattress without being remade.

The pillows on one half of the bed still indented from daily use. The sheets themselves are silk, and similarly to the pillows on the same side, the imprint of your boyfriend’s body rolling out it earlier that day is still visible.

He clearly doesn’t spend much time in his bedroom.

You still find yourself hoping the bed smells like him regardless. Silence undercut with the sounds of you discarding the clothes you’d worn that day. They stink of sweat, a reminder of how nervous you’d gotten just before dinner time.

Your sleeping clothes, luckily, hold no such memory. Comfortable and encouraging sleep; just what you needed.

And Lord, you were right about the sheets smelling like Rohan.

Laying down on the unused side of the mattress, you are overwhelmed by a lovely mix of his favorite cologne and his natural scent. You’re ashamed to have taken in a couple deep breaths the moment you make yourself comfortable.

After one of the most frightful days of your entire life, you couldn’t think of a better end to it.

Rohan clearly doesn’t cheap out on his own bed set either, much to your delight. The comforter is engulfing and enough to lull your occupied mind into shifting gears.

Now, your only lamenting over just how truly tired you feel. And the silk sheets almost make you feel envious of your boyfriend. Almost.

It would if it weren’t for the simple fact that maybe... just maybe staying over will become a regular occurrence.

Situation called for everyone to look out for one another, but the barrier has been broken regardless. And it’s a pleasant thing to ponder during the last few minutes of your day.

Staying with Rohan. In his own space. A habit lasting long after the killer is gone and dealt with.

Even in the dark, new space, you cannot help but smile. Your eyes finally flutter shut, but the groggy joy displayed doesn’t falter.

Rohan’s casual attitude over you sleeping in the same bed as him makes you believe it really might become a regular occurrence. At least… he likely wouldn’t turn you down asking to stay over for a night (Not that you’ve ever asked before).

The future of your relationship eclipses your fear just long enough to allow for genuine rest.

Already fallen asleep by the time he retreats to the bedroom after hours of non-stop work, Rohan himself slips into the room quietly a few minutes past midnight.

Observing your peaceful form sleeping in his own bed fills him with a sort of pride he only ever used to associate with his writing.

Not that he’d ever directly admit to such a thing. He’s with you after all, and that clearly depicts how he feels.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Because regardless… he still finds himself contemplating you while he changes his clothes.

Your understanding of just his actions and the subtle inflections in his expressions is something to be admired.

Hell, you are someone to be admired in general. Pictures of you sprinkled in his sketchbook, an eager desperation to capture what he sees on the page.

He figures he could study you for hours at a time if you let him.

Just a couple months into being official and you’ve already proven yourself to be the loyal partner he always hoped to find, however deep down that desire may had been kept.

Deep down.... he ponders, slipping into bed next to you. Turning his head in your direction, he stares shamelessly while thinking.

Rohan’s own hopes lie in learning how to properly express himself to you.

So accommodating yourself... it makes him want to commit to giving you a fulfilling relationship. It’s a feeling he’s recently gotten around to fully understanding, but one that in the shadows of a gloomy night... he silently embraces.

Just the same as him physically reaching out an arm to embrace you, just before resigning himself to a deep sleep...

When you finally wake, Rohan has already gotten up and left you to sleep in peace. Late to rest, early to rise.

What catches your immediate attention, though, is the smell of coffee brewing in the floor below you. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you don’t bother changing just yet before pulling yourself from the mattress. The wooden flooring chills the pads of your feet, but it does nothing to hinder your journey out of his bedroom.

Walking silently down the hall, that smell only hits your nostrils harder. Warm and fresh… you sigh, I can feel myself waking up already.

And if the scent of coffee doesn't do the trick, turning a corner to spot Rohan sipping out of a cup held in his hand at the dining room table certainly does.

His hair is still a bit ruffled from sleep, along with the notable absence of any color variation of headband. A robe lazily holds onto his shoulders, loosely tied around his waist to stay in place. His expression is neutral, face pointed down to the newspaper held in his other hand.

Those familiar green eyes flicker up at you when you enter. Although you tread lightly around his home, any noise around him is hardly ever missed.

“Good morning, Y/n,” he greets you gently, setting down his newspaper. It’s only when he examines you does it cross your mind that you quite literally rolled out of bed, and likely look like it too. An amused expression reaches his face as he adds, “Slept well?”

“Yes... I did,” you confirm, touching the ends of your hair. Only for it to drop a moment later; under his observation your only met with warmth. Prompting you to approach the table instead of growing anxious.

You don’t sit down, but you can more clearly examine the details of his face from your position.

“Your bed is very comfortable,” you go on with a smile. “I’m almost jealous.”

He chuckles at your last statement, his smirk shifting to a more genuine smile. Followed by a nod and hum of approval. Rohan takes a moment to take a sip from his cup of coffee, and you give him that moment patiently.

“I’m glad you think so,” he replies, “I do my best to get my eight hours, after all.”

Being someone so meticulous over environment, his response confirms your suspicion that he takes a special care in where he sleeps. Your smile grows wider.

“You think that means I just need to sleep over in order to get my full eight hours?”

Rohan lets out a scoff at that, the sound hiding a laugh at your eager question. “For me, dear. Not for you. You could sleep on the damn floor for all I care.”

“Now, Rohan-“

“But the theory is certainly worth a try,” he cuts you off, that easy smile still on his face. A mischievous gleam flickering in his eyes.

Oh.

“Then we ought to… your bed is really lovely. I’d hate to waste the opportunity,” you reply, picking up what he was putting down. Your tone turns cheeky as you add, “Plus, getting to sleep next to you… well, that’s cool too, I guess.”

“Just cool? You guess? Sleeping beside me?” he scoffs, taking a sip of his coffee. “I made extra coffee, by the way. Go grab yourself a cup; you clearly need it.”

You laugh at his words, glancing over to the coffee pot still sitting patiently on the stove. It’s tempting to go and do as he suggested right away.

Noting to do so in a moment, you turn back to Rohan and ask, “You’re going to be working most of the day today, I assume?"

“Yes,” he nods, “But I can spare some time in the morning.”

You could just faint.

Once again, you know full well there's no one else he'd be willing to spend extra time lounging about in the morning for other than you.

Sensing the joy his words send you, he tilts his head toward the counter. His eyebrows raising as if to say, ‘I’m not going to ask you again.’

A single night to adjust, and staying over at his place is everything you hoped for.

His hospitality... others may not think it, but Rohan is quite fair. He speaks to you directly, welcoming you to join him in whatever he’s doing if he isn’t burying himself in his work.

Most notably, he’ll want you to help him do any of his research. Or rather, he’d like to info dump while skimming through books in or outside the home.

It’s one of several ways he opens his mind to you.

He’ll make extra coffee for you in the morning, sure, but he’s also insistent on making you dinner- depending how sucked into working he gets.

If you take initiative and cook a meal for the both of you, he won’t let it happen again no matter how grateful he may be. You’re still his guest, after all. Better a host treats their guest (He wants to show off for you).

He’ll take you out with him during his non-work-related errands as well.

Rohan doesn’t explicitly tell you why, but it seems to make mundane tasks much easier for him to endure. He isn’t scowling the entire time if you’re there, at least.

All and all, he hopes this will become a habit as much as you do. Expressing that he likes having you there with him in his own special way.

[perseidlion]

There's a lot that has been made of the Cat King and whether he's "bad" or "problematic." Putting aside that's a silly conversation to have about a fictional character (who is there to add conflict and drive the story forward) it also misunderstands Cat's Whole Deal (TM.) Think of him like one of the fae. He's very decidedly not human, and although he isn't called a fae canonically (and I don't think he actually is) he is called a spirit. And there are some things he does that are decidedly fae-like.

He strikes bargains.

He protects his domain.

He punishes those who transgress his domain.

His punishment is a curse combined with a task.

He has aspects of a trickster figure which is common in fae mythology.

He has his own unspoken rules, but if you break them, you still need to be punished.

Edwin slights Cat by forcing his will on one of his subjects. In Cat's world, that is a crime that needs to be answered for. He offers sexual favours, which Edwin refuses, so he gives him another option. It isn't an impossible task, but it is an inconvenient one. In Cat's world, letting Edwin off with no punishment is simply not something he would do. So all the questions about whether he's problematic or that he violates consent are silly in this context. Of course if he was a real human man and he forced Edwin to stay somewhere against his will, that would be bad. But that's not what's happening here. He's a spirit with a domain and Edwin misstepped and had to pay the price as a result.

It is also important to keep in mind that he is an ANIMAL spirit who just happens to be able to take human form. That also explains some of his behaviour (including the horniness and the cowardice to some degree.)

This also makes the age gap discourse moot, too. It's the same kind of dynamic as a teenager and an ancient vampire. Except in this case, Edwin is not really a teenager and has existed for over 100 years.

I love Dead Boy Detectives but man, those characters are not teenagers. They don't act like teens, they don't look like teens and they run around, cross international borders and live on their own. They are at the very least out of high school, if not in their early twenties. It actually feels silly that the show keeps calling them kids when the story doesn't treat them that way.

BUT that is really neither here nor there and is a topic for another day! My point is just that it is silly to apply human morality to Cat and condemn him based on that.

If you just don't like him, and/or don't like him and Edwin, that's totally fine. But there's no need to condemn him/that dynamic based on how his behaviour would be interpreted in real life. That's frankly, pretty silly.