#I ask them for the code to the side gate there and they look at me like I’ve sprouted a second head

[loptrcoptr]

Guess who has two thumbs and got kicked out of her barn? 👍👍

So two weeks ago I ran into this woman at the barn as she was taking her horses out of the arena and I was taking one in to ride. I know her, her barn is right across from a) the barn with the horse I currently ride and b) the barn just next to it, where I worked for seven months. Seven. And I still occasionally work at the barn where I currently ride. Following me?

Well. She completely forgot who I was and that we had met quite a few times, actually, over the past two years. I said hello as I passed her and she gave me that very specific look middle-aged white women give you that’s somewhere between “are you a criminal” and “you don’t even go here”. She said “are you Lena? [daughter of the people whose horse I ride]” I said “uh, nope”, weirded out by the fact I’m so easily forgotten. She then says “we’ll, are you related to [this horse’s owners]?” I again said no, and “I just ride this guy.” Gave the horse a pat, tried to keep walking. At this point she went full school marm and said “are you on file with the stable committee office??” As in… have u signed all the hold harmless paperwork that everyone has to sign in order to do anything with horses at any barn anywhere. Again… I have worked and ridden at this damn barn for two years right across from this woman’s barn.

So I said “yup, I’m on file, I’m totally legal! I’ve done all the paperwork”. She immediately changed tone and laughed and said “oh you know, I just have to check!” And I fake laughed and said “yep! Ok!” And told her to have a nice day. And it sat in my craw for days and I couldn’t shake the feeling she was going to contact the horse’s owner and “report me” or something.

Fast forward to yesterday morning. I get a text from the guy whose horse I ride and he says that this bitch (not how he referred to her, of course) has been made head of the stable committee. And she has decided that no one is allowed to ride a horse they don’t own, regardless of waiver status, unless the owner is present to supervise. in summary I, a non-wealthy young person, am not allowed to ride at the stables unless the horse’s owner agrees to come out and babysit me like I’m a child.

Also, I am definitely not a worse rider than most of the horse owners at this place (not the ones I ride for) who know nothing about horses and never ride, (which is why they hire me and people like me to take care of their horses for them)! But that’s not the point, the point is this woman has cited “insurance liability” as the reason for banning non-owners from barn activity. She has taken over from the previous committee head, who is an actual lawyer, and decided that the paperwork the actual lawyer prepared isn’t good enough to ensure the barn’s interests are protected… even though it has been doing exactly that for at least five years without incident. This is the same woman who used barn funds to put up a slew of cross country jumps all over the bridle path even though there’s only one (!) other eventer in the entire stables, so no one uses them. It’s utter nonsense.

The worst part is that because I’m not an owner I’m not privy to the stable committee meetings, so I don’t actually know that this is a real new policy, or if she simply told this specific horse owner it was for his, and my, benefit. If my name was somehow brought up at this month’s meeting, my former “friend” who hates my guts now would absolutely have started throwing shade and making up crazy shit. By now most people at the barn know she’s crazy, but too few know me well enough to have a dispute. So I can’t even say for certain, because horse people Are Like That, that this is even a riel now and not just something they brought up for me specifically, without having a better reason to boot me out. Less drama this way, you see. Knowing this woman loves control (turning the entire bridle path into her own personal playground!), I’d like to believe it’s just a whole rule now, but I don’t know for certain.

Anyway… as soon as I read that text message I was like *stares in Tired Horse Bitch*. I was lucky that these folks allowed me to ride their horse, and I had other people offer too, when the family I worked for retired their horses and I was out of options. And it chaps my entire ass that after all the work I’ve done and all the connections I’ve made, the owners didn’t even get the right to tell me when to stop. They can’t even make that decision now. And it has lit a fire under me to just stop lurking on horse boards and checking out boarding barns and commit to horse shopping, because I cannot deal with being beholden to the whims of random old crones any longer. I need a horse of my own that no one can tell me what to do with. Do I currently have the budget I was hoping I’d have? Nope. Am I going to start looking at horses anyway? Yep.

[rolanpilled]

Facts about Rolan you might have missed, while you were busy saving the world

Spoilers for Baldur’s Gate 3 below!

Here’s a collection of some Rolan facts you may have missed during your playthrough. (These are all from memory, so I will edit this later with sources and exact quotes.)

He is not related by blood to Cal and Lia - You can find this information by speaking with his corpse. All three of them consider each other family, but Rolan seems to hold some insecurities about his position with his siblings. In the same conversation, he mentions having “no one” when asked if he has family and that he identifies as “Rolan, just Rolan” - potentially implying that he’s been abandoned or rejected by his blood family, if they’re alive.

Cal considers Rolan an older brother - If Rolan dies during his rescue attempt in Act 2, Cal confesses that Rolan is his “older brother” and “the person he looks up to the most”.

Rolan loves organizing things - He has overhead dialogue with his siblings where he jokes about wanting an organized, color-coded sock drawer.

You can try to convince Rolan to leave his siblings behind at the grove - Try to convince him to leave Lia behind, and he will admit she’s a pain sometimes, but he could never leave her, not even for his prestigious apprenticeship.

Rolan’s diary changes depending on if his siblings live or die - Self-explanatory. He obviously becomes much more depressed and angry if you fail to save his siblings.

Rolan and his siblings have known each other since Cal was at least eight - They have overhead dialogue where Cal mentions that, when he was eight, Rolan once conjured a cat for him, only for him to find out it was made of fire.

It’s implied that Rolan, Cal, and Lia share a mother figure - If Lia dies, Cal has dialogue with Rolan about throwing a party in memorial for her, “like [they] did for mum”.

Rolan, Cal, and Lia have unique dialogue depending on which of them die - This is self-explanatory, but you can see most of the scenes here. He also appears to have unique dialogue coded in act 3 depending on if he’s angry with you or not (if you disrespected Cal and Lia’s memories by calling them Carl and Liam), but I haven’t been able to trigger it yet.

https://twitter.com/gimblebock/status/1705080072489574619?s=46&t=ZnMav_9KejiNOZkZPad0Mg

Lorroakan hates to admit it, but Rolan is more powerful than him - Speak with Lorroakan’s corpse after killing him and having Rolan side with you. He will begrudgingly admit that his apprentice is more powerful than him. Side note, it can be implied that Lorroakan never calls Rolan by his name, as he defaults to “tiefling” or “boy” in their few interactions.

If Rolan has a high enough initiative in the Lorroakan fight, he will use Thunderwave to shove Lorroakan off the tower. Peak revenge.

Some of Rolan’s spells have his name in front of them (Rolan’s Thunderwave, Rolan’s Mage Armor) - Some people have headcannoned this as meaning he had to learn magic by himself, therefore being a Sorcerer. Considering his clothes are a unique color combination for the Sorcerer robes, it raises more than a few questions

Rolan always carries Lorroakan’s letter on him - This one always makes me so sad, pointed out by @sadwizardlover. Throughout the game, the one thing Rolan always carries on his person is the written response from Lorroakan to his letter, posted below.

Lorroakan also beats Rolan up😭 He'll only admit this if Lorroakan's dead though

That’s all! If anyone has any more to add to this list, shoot me an ask✨💞

[yoichiris]

love me now | itoshi rin x reader

✩ we were born in a box ✩ pro-player!rin, hurt with comfort, secret dating au

when rin first asks you to keep quiet about your relationship, you're too in love to care.

after all, many things weren't public: not the little smile he gives you when he walks into your apartment, not the way his lashes flutter in the morning sunlight, and definitely not his grunts when he pushes into you. these were sides of rin that were only reserved for you.

but the frustration builds, with every goal that rin scores, the more attention he gets, and the more faded into the background you are.

you stand in the audience, the crowd booming as the ball strains against the net where rin has just kicked it, your eyes trained on him. usually you would've cheered, but recently you've been feeling alone. and you know it's unfair, but he doesn't even look for you, completely focused on the field.

"did you see that?" you hear some guy talking to his partner next to you, voice laced with disbelief.

"fucking awesome," someone else says.

these are the moments rin lives for, you think. outplaying the opponent. making the goal in a way that doesn't allow any doubt about his skill. the set expression on his face tells you everything, that he's planned for this moment and this moment only, and it makes you sad that you've never once crossed his mind.

sometimes you watch rin's teammates run to their partners after winning a game. you try to imagine what rin would be like, if he were like that with you. would he be like bachira, who practically swings his partner over the railings? or isagi, who cups his partner's face between his hands and presses a sensual kiss to their lips?

you think harder, and the answer is probably neither.

which is how you end up standing at the gates of his apartment a few hours after his game ends, feeling apprehensive, when you know he'll return after doing his decompression, doing press, debriefing with his team.

rin's eyes change when he sees you.

"what are you doing here?" he asks, barely glancing at you, "i thought i told you always to wait for me inside."

in case someone sees us, is the unspoken part.

it made you feel special when he had given you the code to his apartment, bypassing all manners of security, having your name discreetly given to the concierge at the lobby. but all of that had been for his career, and his career only.

for rin, everything revolved around being the best at what he did. and you understood. but did you really hinder his career that much?

i don't want them to focus on something so trivial, he had told you once. you know he's talking about gossip, paparazzi, sensational headlines, not you, but you can't help but take it the wrong way. were you trivial to him?

"what are you so scared of, rin?" you ask him softly, your stance firm when he tries to redirect you past the unlocked gates.

he scowls, "what's gotten into you?"

"i don't know," you admit, not really knowing what you want to say, driven only by the feeling of loneliness in your chest, "what do you get out of this?"

the confusion flickers over his face for only a moment. always smart, he is.

"out of what? our relationship?" he retaliates, the way he says relationship making you flinch, even if his tone has barely changed.

you're scared to look at him, because you know what you're asking him to admit. i like you, he had said at the beginning of it all. his expression had been blank, but his eyes had an intensity that made you believe him. and you do.

but being head over heels in love with him as you are, thinking it'd be enough for everything... you hadn't been prepared. not for this kind of life with him.

"yeah," you mumble, quiet, "...i'm just tired of being your secret, rin."

he looks frustrated.

"you're not," he tells you, and once again you believe him, but it's just not enough. "what do you want me to do?"

you don't know. is there anything you could ask him to do? did you have the right to ask him to do everything he had already refused once to do?

you've had this conversation. once, twice. but rin's always been immovable, stubborn. and it's not like you didn't know that his career would always be his priority. so you had dropped it, thinking that you could move past it.

"nothing," you reply, voice shaking. you look down. you don't have the energy to do this a third time.

you sniffle, not yet crying. "i'm gonna go, okay?" you tell him, "it was a good game today."

he reaches out to you instinctively, long fingers circling your hand. he holds onto you for a moment, and you think for a second he'll say something. but he breaks eye contact first and lets you go.

"thanks," he says instead, "be careful on your way home."

you think that's your answer and tell him goodbye.

when you wake up the next morning, you feel completely disoriented. you think the noise you hear is your alarm clock, but you quickly realize that it's just your phone buzzing incessantly.

you sit up in bed, wondering if your eyes are deceiving you.

scrolling through the hundreds of messages in your inbox, scanning through most of the keyboard smashes, and seeing rin's name over and over again, brings you to rin's instagram.

your heart pounds as your eyes take in the picture. you've never seen it before, but you recognize the sprawl of your hair, the familiar crumple of rin's sheets around you.

he's in the frame too, his lips slightly parted at the top right, his exposed collarbone leaving nobody wondering what you two were doing. your face isn't shown, but a tap on the picture shows you that he's tagged your private instagram.

of course rin would post the raunchiest picture allowed to be posted to announce your relationship. of course he had to outdo all other relationship announcements. and of course he would do it at 2am, hours after you'd had your fight.

you can barely breathe when you scroll down to the caption.

Liked by sae_it and others

itoshi_rin love you.

your fingers shake as you swipe back to your home screen, to the rin's name on your favorites page, to call him. he answers on the third ring, his voice raspy.

"hey," he grunts, sounding like all those times you've woken up next to him, with his arm slung over your waist, his chin tucked over your form.

you snuggle into your blankets at the sound of his voice. "you have something to say to me, rin?" you tease.

"no," he says, always mean, and you imagine the slight slant of his frown. "i got practice soon. talk to you later, yeah?"

you're about to protest, but he cuts you off— "i love you."

you think he's about to hang up, but there's a moment of silence as he waits, vulnerable, for you to respond. you smile, thinking about rin holding his breath on the other end of the phone.

"i love you, too."

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[fangirl-writes]

Small Spaces

JJ Maybank x Reader; John B. Routledge x Routledge!Reader

Warning(s): claustrophobia, anxiety attack, swearing

Request: jj maybank dating jb’s twin sister and her joining in on their adventures but she has severe anxiety so just him being super sweet and loving to her?

Notes: This is totally based on another fic I read that I can't find rn but it's my spin on it so I hope you like.

Fuck this, you thought. Seriously, fuck this.

You were squeezing yourself through a small hole in a mausoleum that had "Redfield" written across the top, just to see what was inside.

For John B., of course, because he was your brother, and he needed to find this clue almost as much as he needed to be breathing.

But god damn it, this was all you needed.

Between the near visit from child services, the hurricane, the dead guy's boat, the guy's gun, getting shot at, and surely more to come, you were due for a panic attack.

Your feet hit the ground with a loud smack and you winced at the noise.

"Still alive?" John B. asked.

"Oh my god, shut up,"

"Yep, she's alive."

You rolled your eyes and took the flashlight that Kie was offering you.

You shined the light around the space, bigger than you were expecting, but the fact that your exit was so small and that it would be a struggle getting back to it was making the anxiety stir in your stomach.

"Y/N? You okay?" JJ asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you replied. "What exactly am I looking for?"

"You'll know it when you see it."

"Real helpful, JB," you mumbled, shining the flashlight around and trying to focus on finding whatever it was rather than the darkness and the walls that felt like they were going to close in on you.

You gasp when a flash of white catches your eye.

"Y/N? You okay?" JJ asked

"Oh my god," you whispered.

"Y/N?" JJ asked again. "I'm gonna need some word confirmation that you're okay."

"Yeah, I-I'm fine," you replied. "I think I found it."

"What? Really?" John B. said, peaking into the space you'd crawled into.

You pulled out a long white envelope from a small space in the crypt, the words "FedEx" and "Bird" written on it.

Thanks for including me, Dad, you thought before taking the envelope over to the space and handing it to John B.'s outstretched hand.

"That's not gold," Pope said, a little disappointed.

But John B. was looking at it like it was. "Holy shit."

"JJ, a little help?" you said, reaching a hand through the space.

"Yeah, yeah, I gotchu, babe," he replied, helping you out of the crypt.

"This is from our dad," John B. said, looking around at the group.

"Yeah," you said, trying to catch your breath. "To you."

"Code red. Code red." JJ warned, the smoke from his joint fluttering up into the air. "Square groupers! Square groupers!"

Your stomach drops as the five of you start moving, JJ's hands grabbing your arms rougher than he probably meant to.

"It's the guys who robbed your house," JJ said.

Fuck, you think. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You guys hide on the side of the mausoleum, turning off and tucking the lights under your shirts.

You can feel it start to bubble up, your breathing becoming unsteady.

"Hey, I see something!"

"Do you think it's them?" Kiara asked.

"Homie's got a gun," JJ said as he and John B. peaked around the corner.

"Screw this," Kie said, taking off. The others followed her, including you, who was on the verge of breaking down.

"Right here!" One of the men shouted.

JJ's hand was on your back the whole time, but it did nothing to calm you down.

You each scaled the fence with little trouble except for Pope, who got his pants stuck on the gate.

It was funny until you were in the van and that anxiety attack had caught up with you, the adrenaline fix going away.

Your hands shook. Your chest tightened. Tears began streaming down your cheeks.

You were starting to hyperventilate, and your head was spinning. Even though you knew you were safe in the Twinkie now, you couldn't help the dread that was washing over you, the fear for your life that coiled around you like a snake.

"Hey, hey, hey, Y/N," JJ said, quickly catching on to what was happening. "You're okay, you're okay."

He made you look at him and took a few deep breaths for you to copy, which you did over and over.

"Shit, get this joint out of here," JJ said, handing it off to Pope.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" he asked.

"Throw it out the window or something, get it outta here. It only makes her worse."

You'd tried that anecdote before, and, as he said, it really did only make the panic attack worse. Through trial and error, JJ and John B. found the only things that helped you through a panic attack were calming words, help getting your breathing back to normal, and hugs.

So, JJ did just that. He held you close and whispered in your ear, rocking you back and forth slowly.

John B. checked your state in the rearview, feeling bad that he'd brought you along at all, even if you had insisted. Then he looked at the envelope sitting next to him and knew that, somehow, it would be worth it.

[dancingbirdie]

This feels more like a character study of Astarion than anything else, but it's part of the series I'm working on called "The Planets Bend Between Us."

Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, Part 4 here.

Everything on Ao3 here.

My Astarion Spotify playlist here.

I hope you enjoy! Comments always appreciated and hoarded like shiny magpie trinkets.

Only You. Only Me.

Rating: Mature (for descriptions of sex/fantasizing)

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings/Tags: Astarion's trauma responses, mental health, coping mechanisms, self-degradation, discussion of sex/physical intimacy, angst, fluff.

Summary: Halsin propositions Tav, prompting another important conversation between her and Astarion. Astarion works through more of his feelings about Tav, physical intimacy, and recovering from the torture he previously endured.

***********************************************************

Astarion had always enjoyed reading. It was one of the very few discreet pleasures in which he could partake when skulking about Baldur’s Gate at night. He would read by the light of the lamp posts dotting the main thoroughfares, slouching against them and perusing texts at his leisure. He could even justify the habit to Cazador and his siblings, as on numerous occasions, it captured the attention of unsuspecting passersby who considered his behavior intriguing enough to strike up a conversation. It was a more passive means of gathering victims, true. It felt akin to fishing for prey as opposed to stalking them. But, still, it got the job done, especially on nights when his skin and bones still ached from his master’s beatings. 

Suffice to say, when he pilfered an armful of books from the druid’s grove several weeks ago, he was excited to finally indulge in the familiar activity once more. He had just selected a worn edition of Traveller’s Guide to the Sword Coast Vol. IV: The Risen Road and begun reading the author’s note when Tav barged into their shared tent with an audible huff. 

“Honestly, I was only making conversation…” she grumbled under her breath as she began aggressively rummaging through her pack to retrieve her night clothes. 

Astarion peered at her over the top of the tome, quirking a brow. 

“Is there something you want to talk about, my dear?” he casually intoned. 

Tav scoffed before turning to look at him over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe the conversation I’ve just had with Halsin,” she grimaced. 

Ah, so it finally happened, he thought to himself. He was grinning wickedly as he closed the book and laid it next to his bedding. 

“What’s that smile for?” Tav accused. 

A true, hearty guffaw burst from his mouth at that. Tav would have found it delightfully endearing if she weren’t so flustered. 

“I was wondering when you were going to ask me about this,” he replied, still chuckling. 

“What? How could you tell? Did he say something to you already?”

“I guessed! The man can’t stay quiet about ‘enjoying the freedom of Nature’s gifts’,” Astarion said, adopting a low, throaty tone to mimic the First Druid’s voice before cackling again. “Why, I bet he’d outlaw clothing if he could.”

Tav clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “It’s ridiculous. I was trying to make conversation with him a few days ago, because he seemed lonely and out of place. I mean, at least we all sort of know one another now. Tadpole business and all that. I thought he could do with a friend. So I merely asked if he had someone special waiting for him back home. And, apparently, that’s a coded question for ‘I’m interested in you?’ Honestly,” she scoffed. 

Astarion continued to watch her with obvious amusement. 

Tav turned back around and began undressing. He swallowed thickly as he watched her shrug out of her armor and begin untying the laces of her chest binding. The fabric fell to the ground with a muffled thump. He caught a mouth-watering view of the side of her breast as she bent over to fetch her nightshirt. 

His nightshirt, to be more precise. She’d taken to wearing his clothes (with permission, of course) soon after they had begun sleeping together. Said article of clothing was long enough to serve as a nightgown on her.

His eyes followed the curve of her waist and hips as she slid her breeches over the peaks and dips of her legs. His chest began to feel a little tighter, his breathing a touch ragged. He knew he should turn away. Be a gentleman. Give her some privacy, even if she wasn’t asking for it. 

Tav had grown increasingly casual about her nakedness inside the confines of their tent. She wasn’t doing it as a means to tempt him, he realized. Experienced as he was given his former… raison d'être… he would have picked up on the first whiff of it had her intent been to cajole him into sleeping with her again. 

No, her behavior stemmed entirely from a place of trust. She let her guards down - physically and emotionally - with only him. It was a pure thing. Borne out of a sense of security that Astarion hadn’t thought anyone would ever feel with him. The thought alone was enough to send a surge of blood toward his groin. The tent suddenly felt a lot warmer than it had before she’d entered. 

They hadn’t slept together since the night of tiefling’s celebration. It wasn’t because he didn’t desire her. He did, much more than his conscious self possibly cared to admit. He was especially reminded of that truth during moments like these, when she undressed in front of him as though she had done it a thousand times before. Like she’d do it a thousand times again. The way she shared her body with him, even non-sexually, was enough to kindle fire in his blood.

But he still felt tainted, no matter how many times he scraped and scrubbed his skin clean. The sense of it was still there, like an invisible grime marking him as unclean. Unworthy. And the act itself was still tainted in his mind. It wasn’t an easy place to return from – that cognitive hellscape where sex was a weapon, a vulnerability to exploit, a means to another’s end. 

He would frequently picture himself filling her to the hilt, wrapping her legs around his waist, thrusting into her with all the passion he could muster. And at first, it would bring him nothing but unbridled feelings of pleasure. Of yearning. But then the vision would be overshadowed by other thoughts, memories of previous trysts. Reminding him of who he was. What he was. What he’d done to others. What had been done to him. And by the time he was able to beat back those intrusive thoughts, the urge to ravish her would be lost. And he would be left loathing himself for even thinking of touching her, or having her touch him, in that way. 

You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve her. That’s not meant for you. The thoughts would taunt him like crows circling a dying animal.  

He knew she wanted to be with him again. Of course, she never asked for it, the polite and empathetic sweetling that she was to him. They had discussed the subject thoroughly, and she had resolutely accepted his boundaries. He knew she’d never overstep them unless he permitted it. But he could feel her wanting in the desperate way she kissed him. In the way she touched him, so reverently, when they curled up in their bedding to rest. It caused his heart to flutter and fracture simultaneously. Because no matter how desperately he wanted to give her what her unspoken actions craved, he couldn’t figure out how to bypass those horrible memories and thoughts that plagued him. 

Things had gotten better, he had to admit. His aversion to touch and intimacy was slowly but surely fading. There were many nights he and Tav lay together in each other’s arms, lips moving together in perfect, glorious synchrony. They explored each other’s bodies – fingertips ghosting along skin, leaving heated trails of gooseflesh in their wake. 

“Tell me to stop,” she would whisper against his neck, her hands roving the planes of his body, as she peppered kisses along his jawline and the column of his neck. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

“Keep going,” he would murmur in return, touching her just as desperately. “Please. Keep going.”

It would continue like that for some time, until it became too much. Until her touch stopped feeling like an analgesic to his mind and more like an agonist. He would tense, and she would feel it. He would quietly whisper “stop,” and she would halt immediately. He would clutch her in his arms, and they would lie still as he recovered. 

He wished he could give her more. Give her everything. She said she never minded. That she wanted them to take this slowly. And he believed her. But still. He knew he was a different sort of lover than she likely imagined her first to be. 

Which was why he had resolved to accept the possibility that she might want physical pleasure with someone else. Someone like Halsin, who could give her that attention immediately. Without the additional baggage and self-loathing that he came with. 

Under Cazador’s enslavement, the question of whether he preferred monogamy versus polyamory was just a cruel joke with an even crueler punchline. And before that, well, he couldn’t remember how he’d preferred his relationships. It was disorienting, to be so unsure of himself. Not knowing whether his decisions and preferences now were a reversal of his former personality or an exact alignment. Maybe some craved that sort of clean slate, but to Astarion it was terrifying. And enraging. 

But matters of self-identity aside, he had pondered long and hard about how he would respond were Tav to express interest in someone else. He had seen the way the gazes of some in their party lingered on her, knew they were curious about his little hellcat. Knew it was only a matter of time before someone became brave enough to proposition her. And he’d resolved to tell her, should she ask, that he would be all right with it. If she wanted to be intimate with another. He wouldn’t mind. 

Because it wasn’t her body he wanted, he had realized. While, yes of course, she was exquisite and beautiful and incomparable. She had a feral sort of beauty that drove his senses stark-raving mad sometimes. But what he really wanted – what he craved from her – lay so much deeper within. He wanted her heart. Her trust. Her pride. Her love. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. He wanted to know it, wanted to learn. 

“It’s all right, you know,” he murmured finally. 

Tav turned to face him, tying her hair up in a tight bun for sleep. His nightshirt inched up her long, taut legs as she stretched. 

“What’s all right?” she frowned. 

“If you do wish to be intimate with him. I wouldn’t mind. I’m happy for you to have as much… Halsin as you wish.”

Tav just stared at him, her expression unreadable. 

“I just have one question, though,” he continued, pressing on while he still had the courage and vulnerability to ask. “It wouldn’t be because… you know… we haven’t… in a while?” 

The answer mattered so much to him. It was all he could think about for some time now. It made the defensive, self-preserving part of his mind absolutely seethe with rage, but try as he might, he couldn’t shake its importance.

Objectively speaking, he knew it was reasonable if she did respond with yes, it’s because we haven’t in a while, and I really do want to have sex. She was free to feel how she wished. He wouldn’t dare try to force her to stay with only him. He wouldn’t take her agency away from her like that. 

But still, he couldn’t deny that it would gut a part of him, if that would be her reason for taking the First Druid up on his offer. Astarion knew his penchant for misery and self-loathing would seize that answer like a prized jewel. Taunt him with the reality that he wasn’t good enough, wasn’t worth the effort, wasn’t deserving of anyone’s sole focus. 

“Astarion. Look at me,” Tav intoned, interrupting his frantic spiral. 

He hadn’t realized he’d dropped eye contact, his unfocused gaze instead directed somewhere to the side of her head. 

She knelt down before him, her knees pressing into his thigh. Gently, she took his hands in hers. 

“I don’t want to sleep with Halsin. I don’t want to sleep with anyone else,” she said resolutely. He could hear the conviction in her tone.

He stared at her, stunned into silence. In all his pondering and fretting over this, he hadn’t prepared for that answer. Once again, her response left him feeling flat-footed. 

“Listen,” she pressed forward, scooting closer into his side. “I’m fairly new at this, at all of this really. There’s a lot I don’t know about relationships and… physical intimacy… But I do know myself. And I know that sex doesn’t mean nearly as much to me as our emotional connection does. 

“Really?” Astarion whispered, his eyes darting rapidly across her face, desperate to suss out the truth.

Tav nodded seriously, squeezing his hands in hers. “While, yes, I want you in that way… it’s you I want, Astarion. Not the act itself. Just you.”

He wanted to break down in sobs at her words, at just how much they meant to him. That she just wanted him. Astarion. No gimmicks, no quid pro quo, no expectations. She had said it to him before in a different manner of phrasing, but he wasn’t sure if he would ever tire of hearing it. 

She couldn’t possibly understand how her simple truth, her sincere love for him, was upending his entire concept of life and relationships, like a meteor obliterating the ground beneath it. And out of that obliteration, something new and wonderful and terrifying was arising within him. 

Marvelous as it may be, it was still too much to process. The self-preserving part of him reared up in desperation, anxious to shield him from the unknown. He slipped into his costume of confidence and ease once more, although a distant part of him noted how this façade was beginning to chafe. 

“I know,” he chuckled with an offhanded shrug. He could sense the false bravado in his voice and wondered if Tav could discern it as well. 

“I was being foolish,” he continued. “But thank you for saying it.” 

Tav gave him a warm smile and squeezed his hands one last time before releasing them. 

“Of course, my star” she replied lovingly. “Let’s get some rest then, yes?”

“Yes, my darling. Let’s,” he returned.

He gathered her up in his arms as they burrowed down into their bedding. Tav sprawled on top of him, her head on his chest, a leg hitched between his, an arm banded across his waist. 

Within a matter of moments, she was fast asleep. Careful not to shift too much and wake her, Astarion picked up the previously discarded tome and resumed his reading. 

Astarion had always enjoyed reading. Although, he had to admit, the surroundings and company had dramatically improved since the last time he cracked open a book.

[gabessquishytum]

Found a novella with another dreamling-coded premise (I quite possibly have a type)

Hob is the sixteen-year-old prince of a kingdom at war, and his father the king has kidnapped the eight-year-old son Dream of their enemy, hoping to use him for leverage. Hob has placed himself in charge of the little prince and keeps him by his side, as he feels sorry for the situation and protective against those who’d want to hurt him. Even when the young prince’s father breaks down the gates of Hob’s castle and the king is killed, and the guards come to kill Dream in retaliation, Hob still protects him and chooses to surrender to avoid more death.

Now thirty-two, Hob lives in a quiet temple in the hope that he’s been forgotten, that no one would try to start a civil war in his name, or send an assassin to kill the last remaining member of the royal line. He does not regret his actions in saving a child, and he does hope that the little prince still remembers him fondly.

And the not-so-little prince does indeed remember quite fondly. Dream, now twenty-four, has never forgotten the handsome, kind, and honorable older prince who protected him and saved his life, even at the expense of his throne. He’s loved Hob for sixteen long years, and now he’s finally in a place that he can keep the promise he made to himself, even as a small child, and go claim Hob as his husband.

-🪽anon

This is very much hitting Dream’s vibes as a hopeless romantic who fell in love with one guy one time and refused to ever get over it. Love that for him tbh. He's a prince, he gets to live in a fairytale.

Dream is an adult now with his own kind of retinue of people who just serve him specifically, and he starts sending them out in search of ex-prince Hob. Mervyn, Matthew, Gault and a few others routinely scoure the land, searching for Hob. They only have vague information to go on, a description of what Hob looked like at 16, but they do search diligently. And they find him - totally by accident. Matthew gets into an altercation with some bandits and ends up injured, so he stops by the temple hoping for first aid. He totally clocks that the priest matches the description of the Prince: dark hair, brown eyes, a darker skin tone than Dream’s own, a charming cleft in his chin. The Priest is also suspiciously interested when Matthew explains that he serves Prince Dream.

Matthew is a straight forward dude, so he just asks - did you used to be a Prince? And Hob sighs and expects to be assassinated on the spot. Instead, Matthew simply asks him to come back to the palace.

There, Hob gets an audience with the "little prince" he protected and grew fond of so many years ago. Dream is now very handsome and very lovely, if a tiny bit awkward. Hob develops an instant crush, but he's a little bit stunned when Dream blatantly sets out the fact that he wants to marry Hob.

Of course Hob’s first instinct is to agree - hot guy wants to marry him, and he gets to be a prince again? Great! But. He kind of wants to be wooed? He did grow up royal, and he has pretty high expectations even now. He tells Dream that okay, he's definitely not opposed to a potential marriage, but he wants a proper courting period.

And Dream agrees. Hob can move into the palace and do whatever he wants, while Dream pulls out all the stops to romance him. He doesn't matter how long it takes. He's loved Hob for 16 years, ever since they walked in the palace gardens together. He can wait. As long as he gets to show Hob the flowers, this time <3

[ghouljams]

You mentioned once that Price's demon darling is also named Price and that has had me thinking for like days now. How would her powers work compared to the other demon darlings we've seen? I've been like binge reading all of your series and they are all so good.

Price's demon is fun, because I don't know how he got them. He might have summoned them like Soap did, he might have earned them like Ghost/König, I don't know. But what Price needed in a demon was an interrogator, a negotiator, something that could get the information he needed no matter the price. That's who he got, and he's managed to keep a lid on their existence for as long as he's had them. Mostly because he doesn't want the jokes about the demon sharing his name.

Price's demon's name is subject to change because it's a little confusing to tag.

Sometimes to be the good guy, you have to be the bad guy. Price knows this better than anyone. He knows that the rules of engagement only matter if you get caught, and that war crimes are a dime a dozen where people aren't looking. He knows he's never going to see the pearly gates or come face to face with an angel, he's made his peace with it. At the end of the day the only person he has to be alright with is himself.

And you, of course, but that's a separate issue.

He stands now, in front of what anyone would consider a waste of space. It's a tidy operation, as far as trafficking goes, but the people operating it only ever seem to come in one make and model. Slimey.

The man duct taped to the chair spits on Price's boots, swears at him, doesn't seem to be the least bit cooperative. "Sweetheart," Price calls to the room at large. He knows your here somewhere.

"You know that's not my name," You tell him stepping out of the jagged shadows. You're used to this song and dance by now, done it enough times.

"Then stop responding to it," he tells you with just a hint of fondness in his eyes.

"Maybe I will," you grab the trafficker by the back of his head and force it back, "maybe I'll go to the brass and report you for harassing me."

"Empty threats get us nowhere," Price smiles, watching as you push one of your thumbs against the corner of the man's eye. He flinches and jerks away from you, or tries to. Your grip on him is unyielding. He screams when you pop his eye free from the socket, and sever the nerves with one of your nails.

"Let's see what you've been up to," you mumble, standing and tossing the eye into your mouth. It pops like jelly under the sharp points of your teeth, and you pick through the visual data for what you need. Codes, passwords, people he saw, documents signed, maps and transportation logs. You're careful to carve your findings into the man's chest so you don't forget. Dragging your nail through his skin, writing with blood and flesh. Price hands you his phone and you take a picture to send to Laswell.

"Eardrums next," Price tells you.

"No, please, I can talk, I'll tell you what you want to know." The man begs. You twist his head to the side and lengthen your nails.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but your participation isn't really necessary," You dig your nails into his ear canal like needle nose pliers. Maybe you should've eaten his voicebox first, see what he's been saying, it would've made this process a lot quieter.

When you're finished the man is full if holes and you're full of intel. Price hands you a towel to wipe your hands off, and scrub the blood from your lips. He catches you when you turn away from the body, takes the towel to get a last streak of blood off your cheek.

"Good work Price," he hums, you grin.

"Thank you Captain." He says your name so rarely, you try to enjoy it when he does. You hook your fingers in his tac vest to pull him closer. His eyes dart to your lips, but when you lean in to kiss him he leans back.

"We're still working sweetheart," his fingers stroke your cheek to keep you from pouting.

"Later then?" You ask.

"After you've brushed your teeth," he agrees. You gasp in mock offense, and he smiles. You have a long day ahead of you.

[whorhees]

Ghost from your past {Creed III}

Adonis x wife! oc x onesided! Dame

Description: Spoilers for Creed 3. Jade, Adonis, and Dame were all friends when they were teenagers. However, things changed when they all grew apart. Adonis and Jade were able to rekindle their love for each other and even start a family, they get revisited by a ghost that they’ve been trying to forget about.

Authors note: I’m mentally ill for these men so I wrote more self indulgent shit. I’m gonna see how many chapters I can string out, it’s pretty weird that I’m going in reverse anyways but who cares.

{face claim @/aerincreer on Instagram}

Jade sat in her window, staring out at the street.

It was about nine pm, and nothing good happens on the streets of LA past eight. But she was waiting for something, more like someone.

Just then, the lights of a car slowly pulled into view and stopped in front of her house. She grins, leaving her window seat to go downstairs. She tip-toed past her father sleeping on the couch and walked out the front door. She had to push open her gate so it wouldn’t make a loud noise if she punched in the code. Afterward, she ran up to the car and leaned in the roll-down window.

“What you sneakin' around for shawty?” Dame grins as he stared at the light skin girl. “I was just comin' by and seein if you were up. Don’t you got class in the morning?” “Both of y’all got class in the morning” She props her arm up on the window, glancing over at Adonis. He was always nervous to talk to her, even after all these years. “Hey Donnie, why so quiet?” The boy cleared his throat, shaking his head. “That’s funny coming from you. Didn’t you just start learning how to talk?”

Jade rolled her eyes. “Yeah, six years ago. Shut up. Where y’all rolling off to?” “My match,” Dame says proudly, tapping the bag that Adonis had on his lap. “I’m ready to win baby” “Ooh! Can I come? Please?” Jade smiles, leaning towards the back seat. “You said one day I can see your boxing matches, come on Dame!” “Nah Shawty” Jade frowns, her bottom lips forming into a pout. “Why not? C'mon, you promised!” “I know I did. I keep my promises baby, You’ll see me. Check it” Dame fully turns towards her, placing his hand on top of hers.

“You’ll see me, my face plastered everywhere. My name on them announcement posters like Mike Tyson, and, you’ll be there front row when I beat his ass. You and Donnie” Jade’s smile began to grow on her face. Her head cocked to the side, “You better not be lying. Because I still think it’s unfair that I can’t see you fight” Jade backed away from the car, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow”

“Bet. The same spot as always” He nodded, putting the car in drive. “Now sneak back into your castle Rapunzel” Jade flipped Dame off before sneaking back into the gates, locking them behind her.

Adonis looked at Dame, nearly having stars in his eyes. “..Cause one day, I’m gonna save you” He pulled away from Jade’s house and went into the main road. “You like her?” Adonis asked, staring out the rearview mirror. “…Something like that.” Dame turns to his friend and grinned. “When I make it, I’ll do my thing with you, bro. Scoop out some ladies, then settle down with her.

I have it allll planned out”

“Come on Honey and Blue” Jade walked out with dry towels as the twins climbed out of the pool. She promised them that on the first warm day, they could do so, but it was drawing close to the sun setting. “Your dad is going to be home soon” Blue removes his goggles. “Will I get to show him my picture I made today?” “Of course, after you take a bath” Blue grins and ran into the house to a bathroom. Jade turns to her daughter, quiet like always. She signs to her.

‘What’s wrong?’

Honey glanced at her, shaking her head. She moved closer to her mother and leaned into her. Now she got it, she missed Adonis. That’s all. “Don’t worry, he’ll be home soon” Jade picks up the little girl and took her to the bathroom.

Hours passed and Adonis wasn’t home, it was weird. He would usually call if he was going to be at the gym late. She sat on the couch with the twins, watching Blue’s favorite Tv show while honey curled up next to her. The front door finally opened and Jade stood up. “I’ll be back, Blue watch your sister” “Okay mama”

Jade walked down the steps to the front door, her arms crossed. “And where were you?” Adonis turns towards her, a smile on his face. “Baby-“ “I called you multiple times Adonis. You had me worried sick!” Jade playfully smacked his arm. “You aren’t gonna believe who I ran into” Jade tilts her head, her eyebrows knitted together with confusion. “Who?”

“Man…This place is nice…” Jade peered passed her husband, her arms dropping to her side and her eyes widened. “What’s up lil lady?” “Dame…?” He smiled, walking passed Adonis. “At least someone remembered me first. No bullshit” He held his arms out, looking at the woman. “What? No hug for me?” Jade had conflict in her eyes. “Yeah, of course!” She hugged the man, it was strange. Seeing him after all these years.

“And who are these little rascals?” Jade’s eyes snapped open and she pulled back from the hug. She turned around and stared at the twins who stood there, Honey held her brother’s hand who greeted the stranger with a hard unwelcoming stare. “Oh, Dame. These are the twins, Honey and Blue” “Twins…y’all had twins?” Dame crouched down to the height of the children, extending his hand. “Im Uncle Dame”

Blue looked at his parents, his glare didn’t falter. “You’ll have to forgive them. The twins aren’t too fond of strangers” Dame chuckled and stood back. “It’s cool, I would be lookin at a nigga weird if someone I aint know was in my house” Jade glanced at Adonis before walking over to the twins. “It’s bedtime babies, I’ll be up soon okay?” Jade moved Blue’s face gently to look at her. “Okay?”

“…okay” Blue took Honey’s hand and lead her to their shared bedroom.

“How is it possible that they both like you and Adonis? That’s just crazy” Dame turned back to the couple that stared awkwardly at him. “Dame, how have you been? Would you like some dinner?” “Oh please, I would love to” Dame took off his jacket and placed it on the coat rack near the door. “I’ve been cool, Just got out. Tryin' to get my PO off my back” “That’s good…” Jade led the two men to the kitchen, and the chef was finishing up the meal. “Yeah, how have you been Jade?”

“I’ve been okay” Jade moved to put the plates on the table for the three of them. “Got your modeling career off the ground? I had all your shoots when I was in the pin” Jade sat beside her husband. “Did you? I always look at my early work and cringe a bit” “Nah, you still look as good as the last time I saw you” Dame watched as the chef poured the food onto his plate. “Private chef, glass floors…yall really went all Hollywood huh” Adonis chuckled and reached for his fork. “Yeah, I guess you could say that”

“No really, you guys don’t come around the hood no more.” Jade sighed as she picked with her food. “Nothing is for us there anymore. Times changed Dami” Dame smiled, pointing his fork at the girl. “Not long enough if you still callin' me Dami. It’s fine”

It was a long awkward silence, mainly on Jade and Adonis’s part. They didn’t know what to say to the man, he felt like a stranger again. The boy they grew up with, someone they just locked away and tried to forget about…he’s here in their house. “So, what do you plan on doing now that you’re out?” “I want to get back in the game” Jade rose her eyebrow. “The game…As in boxing?” Dame smiled. “Yeah, Adonis promised to put me on”

Jade side-eyes her husband quickly. “Did he…” “I told him I’ll see what I can do” Adonis corrected them, stuffing his face full of food. “Okay,” Jade pushed her plate away. She suddenly lost her appetite but she decided to look at the two men. “You know you can always come to us if you need something” “You don’t need to worry about me, Jade. I’ll get it all together” Jade stood up and gave Dame another hug before going upstairs to check on the kids.

~

Jade sat on the edge of the bed biting her thumb, she couldn’t sleep. She was on edge, her heart ridden with guilt. The door creaked open and she turned her head, Adonis stood in the doorway. “Hey,” He came over and sat beside her, leaning his head on her shoulder. “God I feel so horrible” She mutters quietly. “I stopped writing him a few years ago around the time me and you were getting together, I just couldn’t-“ “Hey, Hey” He grabbed her shoulders, making Jade look at him.

“It’s not your fault…You did more than me” Adonis kissed her forehead. “I never even got any of his letters.” Jade took a deep breath and nodded. “Alright…What did you promise him?” Adonis rubbed the back of his head. “Dame wants a shot in the world league to get the belt” “What?” Jade said astonishingly. “We’re getting old, even you are retired! Dame wouldn’t even have a shot against half those young guys now” “Way to have faith in him” Adonis chuckled. “Faith? I’m being real.” “The man said he kept himself in shape, so we can see”

Jade fell backward on their bed, sighing. “Just…Don’t do anything you’ll regret. You…We don’t owe him that much just because we knew him” Adonis stared at his wife as she pulled the blanket on herself. “At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. I’m gonna come by the gym tomorrow to see so myself” Adonis kissed her forehead, stroking her face. “It’s going to be okay…I’m going to check on the kids” Jade snuggled deeper into the blanket. “Mhm…Okay”

Jade tried to fall into a deep sleep, but her thoughts couldn’t help but linger on her old friend. I don't owe him anything, she tried to convince herself. He made that decision by himself, she reminded. But god, it didn’t help her from feeling less bad.

[kiwinatorwaffles]

hermit species headcanons: volume… 2!

i made this post two years ago when i was fresh to the series and was just getting to know the hermits. a lot has changed since then, but a lot has also stayed the same! my headcanons are getting refined every single time i talk about them, so chances are, this list won't even be accurate to my thoughts a year later.

with that being said, let's get started! click the cut to read them all

bdubs: glare! small, hates the dark, is a feral creature, will never let go of the moss. he and pungance were born from the same tree in the same patch of moss so they are brothers LMAO

beef: vampire! but not a full one. he was bitten by a bat and gained two vampiric traits exactly: fangs and sensitive skin. beef thinks his tendency to get sunburnt easily is just something in his code or a genetic condition. he never got it checked.

cub: alien shapeshifter! his original form is this shapeless void blob, and he can only copy how other beings look like. his forms were taken from two astronauts he saw in space, an old man and a young man. his void form can be seen slightly on his inner arm, where there is just a sliver of night sky hanging out

cleo: zombie (duh) cleo was permakilled by a witch's curse but when faced with the pearly gates they were like. nah. i'd rather be down there. and just straight up left and came back as a zombie. that's how she met joe. because he was sitting on top of her tombstone eating a sandwich

doc: originally a fae, but now he's super fucked up? what can i even say. he was a fae who got super interested in the sciences and started experimenting on himself just for the hell of it. there was that whole dinnerbone cyborg arm thing but he also managed to make himself a centaur form that he uses for extra storage and height. nobody knows where the creeper came from. was it from his dad's side? did he give it to himself? not even stress, his cousin, can tell you how he came to be. what the hermits DO know however is that he can steal pronouns by asking for them

etho: redstone deity! etho was an ancient builder who was executed for witchcraft upon his discovery of redstone. he was resurrected by the universe as a second chance and to spread his knowledge to the world. you can read more from my fic here ehehehehe

false: human! yes she is 100% human. i just thought it would be funny if such an awesome and skilled fighter was just some normal ass human with a bit of social anxiety

gem: forest spirit! she has nature powers and can change parts of her body to reflect parts of nature. she's a deer? an elf? nope! only sometimes. she can mix and match whatever traits she wants on any given day. but be careful of those deer legs and horns. they Hurt

grian: red macaw avian! he has bird feathers covering his ears, parrot wings, and bird talons! he is also able to mimic voices perfectly (which he uses to play pranks and swear in other hermits’ voices) and is a Hollow Boned Menace. he carries a lot of bird tendencies, like being a piece of shit or preening his friends’ hair when it’s too messy (which is always). in start of seasons, he has x lock away usage of his wings to keep himself from an unfair advantage. he also has stolen powers from the watchers, which he can use to change his wing colors or view the entire map from afar.

npg: ????????????? he’s supposed to be a robot, but he has wings and flies sideways?????? he’s somehow even more fucked up than robot grian. not even grian is sure of what he created tbh. he just knows he did NOT give npg those conure wings to begin with.

ariana griande: galah avian! she is grian's cousin who is a pop star. she has never actually been on hermitcraft before -- that was grian cosplaying as her.

hypno: human warlock! he accidentally made a pact when he replaced his tooth with a piece of cursed gold. jokes on his patron though, his faulty human memory can't even remember how he got his powers! he has lots of inscriptions as tattoos written in galactic just all over his body that he completely forgot how to read at this point and is immortal. maybe that's a bit bad for his sense of self-preservation

impulse: demon/imp! he used to be a gargoyle that dispensed candy, but a wizard passing by granted him life and well. now he's here! demons are actually underworld spirits that punish permadead players who have been genuinely horrible to the players around them, but impulse wanted to build houses and play with redstone instead of stirring the torture soup. so when he met skizz he decided hanging out with the players was the best thing to do. he also used to have larger horns and wings but his time on the surface has made his wings very tiny and unusable without the help of an elytra. skizz always teases him for this.

iskall: cyborg! the hermits don't know if he was fully human before the cyborgification. me, personally? i think it would be funny if she was actually built to protect a village but had too much of a personality so the villages just let him go have fun with the players. not sure if i want to adhere to that though

jevin: slime! certain slimes have evolved to be more like players. jevin is from the blue variety (that's his gender)

joe hills: ???????? void-born universe being??? joe is actually the oldest living being in the universe. he was just popped out of void (even predating the void gods) and spent all this time just doing whatever fuckall was around to do. he looks like a normal human being but just Slightly to the left, like his a bit-too-many teeth or slight lean when he stands. other than that, he acts like any other human!

joel: human mage! he actually only has powers of illusion that changes only how he looks. he Really wanted to be an orc but the spell couldnt last forever (as his fae wife lizzie found out after marriage). every day he wishes he had as much swag as shrek did. more on the headcanon here

keralis: weird fucking eldritch cryptid being? except he looks exactly like a human. nothing weird about him, nope. just don't look too closely at his eyes. he promises that he blinks like a normal person and not with his pupils.

mumbo: robot! with a core heart and stretchy limbs, he runs mainly on the consumption of redstone and occasionally typical foodstuffs. he had a creator before the days of hermitcraft (who originally built him as a war machine but something went deeply sideways during construction) that taught him all there is to know about redstone and the outside world. he also inherited the british accent and mustache from his creator. his creator did want him to be free and wiped mumbo's memory of his creation before setting him off into the overworld and letting him roam free. now he's just a silly guy!

grumbot: robot! he was first built to give suggestions on what to do with the mayoral elections but then he developed actual attachments to his horribly neglectant dads </3 but it's alright! he now chills with renbob and goatman up in the hermitheus

pearl: moon spirit! she was the moon from a player's hardcore world. the player used to talk to the moon for fun, but suddenly disappeared from the world one day. now feeling lonely, pearl took a humanoid form and descended to find where her player went, but she ended up discovering the joys of being a player herself. contrary to popular belief, she had no influence on the season 8 moon.

ren: weredog! can shapeshift into a dog form, which he usually uses to either run fast or play fetch. he’s also more prone to change when the moon is larger…. except he just becomes a hyperactive dog who chases his tail all night and is deeply embarrassed by it. he also probably has rabies, but everyone whom he has bitten probably already had something deeply wrong with them to begin with anyway

renbob: human...? he's related to ren from the human side, or at least that what he tells people. but he might as well be 50% weed by now

scar: human(?) wizard! he can fly, subtly change his physical appearance, cast spells, and do all sorts of magical shenanigans! he also can read galactic fluently, which is how he learned that hypno enchanted himself with loyalty at some point. jellie is his beloved familiar. also he's a capitalist. nobody knows where that came from

skizz: angel! why are there angels in minecraft, you might ask? some people are satisfied with their lives and let themselves permadie. skizz, after being born randomly from an angel statue (i wonder if it’s related to the other statue guy) was supposed to be one of the angels who helped escort players to the pearly gates, but he met impulse while his demon clan was taking a field trip to heaven. the two immediately became besties and skizz begged the universe to let him join the players. the universe begrudgingly agreed and now he's here! he hides his many other halos as ring tattoos on his arms as well

stress: fae! she's got fairy powers, magical swag, an affinity for flowers, and will beat you up if you assume she's the resident server cleric.

tango: ex-blazeborn! he saw some yummy packed ice and ate it, which extinguished his internal flame. his blazeborn tribe felt bad for him but knew it would be dangerous if he stayed, so tango just left for the overworld instead. he tries to convince people that he is 100% a human and not suspicious at all because he's embarrassed of having to explain that he lost most of his powers due to eating some yummy ice cream. a more detailed post about my headcanon can be found here

tfc: human! the only non-human aspect of him is a prosthetic leg. contrary to popular belief, he did not lose that leg while mining. it was after fighting a horde of skeletons. (he won)

wels: human. he's just a human. nobody believes him when he tells them because they've seen him accidentally level a building while sparring before. but nope. he's just a human. and a very fucked up one at that

hels: ???? techncially has the traits of wels, beef, and etho????? is there a species for evil clones created by copying machines or

xb: guardian! he was a guardian made to guard the magical treasures of ancient builders, but he got bored of staying in the same spot for centuries and his creators never returning. hypno casted a spell of bipedelity on xb, so now he can walk on land! i wrote a fic about it here too

xisuma: voidwalker! created by the young void gods, he was made from a fucking mspaint file where the void gods dicked around with the program and made a deeply fucked up being (him) on accident. he has no mouth, his hands are as black as the void, and his voice is terrifying without a modulator, which is why he wears a helmet. more about it in my fic here

evil x: also a voidwalker, but this time the void gods pressed random on a picrew and sent him out into an alternate dimension. he grew up in super england until x fished him out of the void. this little rascal has red scleras, ram horns, and a devil tail. he doesn't need to sleep, so he gets all his energy from eating, which is convenient because his sharp teeth can crunch anything and he can digest everything. his hair acts like an enderchest with a portal to the void, where he keeps snacks and various trinkets.

zedaph: human, but he’s not sane. i mean look at this guy. look at what he’s doing. nobody knows how he became so deeply fucked up but he's truly just Like That. he gave himself sheep features once on accident though

worm man: surprisingly, human. he's lucky to have stayed human for this long with his brother's insane experiments. accurate to popular belief, he has no superpowers.

[dannyboy-writes]

Careful where you enter II

It’s finally here!! Part 2. I've been rather gone from this blog, but I finished this last night at 3 am and I'm trying to get back into writing pace soo here it iss.. Hope you enjoy!!

She kept going to your cell, something was still pulling her to you. To your shiny eyes.

She wondered if it was the reflection of the light or if you had been crying. Maybe it was the colour of your eyes, maybe something unique to your kind. 

A kind they knew nothing of.

Somehow you dodged the question every time she asked it. She’d enter the room to ask only that, and she’d leave after telling you about her childhood and her many sleepless nights. Still empty handed.

“What do you want?” She asked, sitting in a little chair in front of you, with the glass playing with her eyes.

You thought about it for a long minute, often humming to yourself as ideas took over your mind. “I want out.”

“I don’t know if I can do that for you.” She said, rather defeated.

The glint in your eyes left, and your gaze dropped to your hands. “Well, it was a long shot anyways,” you smiled. “I think you should leave now, miss Luthor. Thank you for your visit.”

-

A glaring red light coloured the halls of the D.E.O., as Lena found herself wandering once more through the prisoner’s wing.

You had asked her for the codes, and in a forgotten act, she had even given them to you. She remembered your grin and the glint in your eyes, although your words escaped her memories. 

“I trusted you,” she said, closing the gate to your cell behind her. 

You raised your eyebrow, “That was your mistake, my dear.”

Her breath grew heavy, and her vision blurred itself with tears. “Why?”

“I needed one of them, to get out,” you stated. “You were perfect, darling. It’s in your nature to help people, as it’s in mine to deceive them.”

“But why me?”

“Because you‘re fascinating.”

“No really, why?” She asked again.

“You don’t believe me.” You looked at her. “You, Miss Luthor, are one of the most extraordinary people I’ve ever met. I felt it that very first day you crossed that door. So full of hope and wanting so much love…” You clicked your tongue.

“Is that why you chose me, because I wanted to feel loved? Is that why you tricked me into giving you the codes, because I was easy to fool?” She said, her voice cracking.

“Oh, no. No no no, you mistake me for one of your friends. I chose you because I found you… Irresistible. Because I want you by my side, Miss Luthor.” She rolled her eyes at that, but you paid it no mind. “Being the bad guy can be lonely,” you muttered.

“Well get used to it. Because I will not join you. Not now, not ever.”

You shrugged at her attempt at an insult, “Never say that. Don’t close the opportunities, dear. You’ll come back for me - once you realise who has really been tricking you from the very beginning.”

“What does that mean?”

“Ask Supergirl… Or her sister, they’re both in the building.” Lena got up at that last part, what an unusual set of words. “Unlike me.”

There it was. What Lena didn’t know but had been expecting once she heard it. As she moved closer to you she saw a device on the floor, and a blinking light. 

“Don’t let the light trick you, Miss Luthor. You’ll find me, do not worry. We’re connected, you and I,” you told her before the hologram she had been speaking to for the last half hour faded away.

She ran out of the room as fast as she could, making her way into the main hall to speak to Alex.

“Did anything happen, Lena?” The agent asked her.

She bit her tongue, connecting the dots. “Can we talk in private?”

“Of course, this way,” Alex walked with her into an office nearby.

“Are you okay?” She asked Lena.

“I have a question…” Alex nodded so she kept on, “Supergirl. Who is she?”

Alex’s eyes widened in surprise. She had spoken to Kara about it, but it was Kara herself who had to tell Lena. It was her secret.

“Both you and Supergirl have come for my help countless times. I just want to know who I’m helping.” 

“Yes. I understand, Lena, I do. I just… I don’t know if I can tell you.” Lena scoffed and Alex raised her arms, trying to stop Lena from walking away. “It’s not my secret.”

“But it is, It’s your secret too. Isn’t it?” Alex tried to talk, but Lena interrupted her. “Yours and Kara’s.”

“How…”

Lena shut her eyes, stopping her tears from falling through her cheeks, and left the office, not uttering one word.

Instead, she started to search for you. She had been staying at the D.E.O., but L-Corp still had some toys.

She found you in an abandoned building, on the last floor. The power shut off, only lit by the night light.

“What did you mean when you said we were connected?” She asked into the room.

“Remember that first day we met,” you said, standing by the opposite wall to her.

“Vaguely…”

You started to walk in her direction, not close enough that she could hurt you. “Well, I remember it perfectly. At least one little part of it.”

“What part?”

“The part where you gave me your name,” you grinned, taking another step in her direction.

It seemed to click in her mind, “You never gave me yours…”

“Of course not, one’s name is their most powerful weapon, or their biggest weakness. Neither of which I’d want people to know.”

“Why did you pick me?” She asked again. “Really this time.”

One more lazy step in front of her, “There’s so much potential.”

She furrowed her brows, trying to see where you were getting at.

“With your brain, and my wit. We could be huge. We could rule the world,” you said, just one step away from her.

She took one in your direction as you grinned, “When do we start?”

[soulrph]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. ( 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏 )

i got a request and i listened to an alarming number of "royalcore" playlists on spot.ify and i tried researching knights and royalty and it just got me confused and stressed out, so historians, pls look away, i'm here for the protective and occasionally pining vibes of "the monarch and their knight" vibes!! DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST!! i have two more royally vibing lists in the works!! and i may edit this list to add more in the future, as i have already done with other meme lists!

FROM THE KNIGHT.

" i was not asked nor ordered to take up this post, my king/queen/liege. i volunteered for the job. "

" i swore an oath to protect your life before any other, including my own, your majesty. it is an oath i am honoured to keep. "

" don't be alarmed, your majesty. i oversaw the preparation of your meal myself, and tasted the wine from a separate glass. it is both safe and delicious. "

" stay in the carriage, sire/ma'am/my liege. a fallen tree blocks our path, and i wish to secure the perimeter before we disembark to remove it. "

" sleep well, your majesty. i shall keep watch outside your chamber door tonight. you will be quite safe, i assure you. "

" your majesty! my apologies... you startled me. i did not expect you to be awake so late. is something wrong? "

" perhaps... perhaps it might be wise for me to teach you the correct ways of using a sword, your majesty? "

" i am marked down for the final jousting tournaments tomorrow. if anything happens, rest assured; i have chosen a most worthy candidate to replace me in my role in the event of my demise. "

" do not fear, my king/queen/liege. i will die before i allow any harm to befall you. and i do not intend to die tonight. "

" please, my liege. take my armour; let me strap you in. now. you must not, under any circumstances, remove this armour until you are safely within the castle walls. stay close. and pull the visor of the helmet down... good. everything will be well. i promise. "

" your majesty, i have come bearing news. i have decided to resign from my post as knight. i will remain until a satisfactorily excellent replacement has been chosen, and then i shall be leaving. "

" you seem unaware of your importance, my liege. your value far exceeds my own. "

" it is a mere scratch, your majesty. a reminder of my inexcusable failure, and the closeness to which this kingdom came to losing you. "

" you may be the first monarch i ever felt proud to protect. "

" your majesty. your majesty, wake up! we must leave, and fast. where is your cloak? the carriage is waiting, we must hurry... "

" make haste! the enemy has breached the gate; and i won't let them harm you, my liege. not while there is air in my lungs. "

" do not fear, your majesty. this is the fastest horse in the stables. you must head for the forest; i'll fend the enemies off until i know you're safely away. "

" your majesty? were you worried for me? "

" i must warn you, my king/queen/liege, these parts are not safe for anyone, let alone a member of royalty. "

" my king/queen/liege, permission to speak freely? "

" trust and ease are things i sacrifice gladly to guard your life well, your majesty. "

" with the greatest respect, you should not go alone. i can accompany you. i assure you, you won't even know that i'm there. "

" knights have a code, your majesty. and to feel the way that i feel for you... it goes against that code. against everything we stand for. in all ways. "

" should this be the last time we meet, my king/queen/liege, please know... you must know, it was my greatest pride and privilege to be your knight. "

" if i may be so bold... i do not think i would much enjoy a royal life. the weight of the crown seems too great a burden. "

" be calm, my king/queen/liege. my finest armor is polished and ready for tonight's festivities. i shall be by your side all night. "

" my king/queen/liege, you look uneasy... has something happened? are you unwell? where is your luncheon? i'll send for the doctor right away... "

FROM THE ROYALS.

" ah! you must be the new knight! do tell, what is your name? "

" i trust your word above all else. you may always offer your consult on these matters. so, please. what is on your mind? "

" i am with you far more than i am with my own betrothed, of late! people shall talk... "

" due to recent tensions between other kingdoms and our own, it has been decided that i will be requiring a personal guard. and i have chosen you. "

" what made you decided to become a knight? "

" i do not need a nanny! least of all when i am merely going to my own chambers! "

" perhaps you could teach me how to wield a sword? one must be able to defend one's self, after all. "

" be easy, brave knight... you took many injuries to protect me last night. i insisted the royal doctor tend to you, rather than your fellow knights. you are quite safe; you're in my personal chambers. "

" i very much envy your freedom as a knight. i imagine you must take it for granted. "

" don't go! you just said it wasn't safe out there! as you are responsible for my personal safety, surely you should stay with me? "

" do not let the fine food and beautiful clothing fool you, knight. a golden cage is still a cage, even with a crown atop it. "

" it is alright. i am merely ill, my knight; there was no poison. "

" i know you better than i know the crowned stranger who decided i was to marry them. how sad is that? "

" i wish to travel to the neighbouring kingdoms. you shall join me, good knight. "

" please, kind knight... do not let me eat alone. my betrothed does that to me already. i do crave some company... "

" my knight... i fear that i have made my most gravest mistake. i have fallen into a trap of my own creation. i have fallen in love with you. "

" you are wounded! sit. sit! as your king/queen/monarch, i command you, sit and let me tend to your wounds! "

" good knight, i do not believe i have ever had the pleasure of seeing you without your armour on... it is a most welcome change. "

" my marriage, it... it is a lie, it is little more than business. i feel nothing for them, my knight, not like what i feel for you! "

" this castle is suffocating... please, may i... may we go to your favorite place? a place you might go to be alone? "

" so many despise the crown. yourself included, i expect. i certainly understand; i feel the same way. so why become a knight who is sworn to defend and protect it? "

" could we just be ordinary townspeople for a day? "

" you presume too much, knight! just because my struggles are not the same as yours, does not render them non-existent! "

" my life is no more important than yours, nor anyone else's. do not think otherwise. "

" you think i would not give my life for you just as easily as you would give yours for mine? "

" it kills me, that as king/queen/monarch, i cannot choose to wed my true love. i cannot choose my knight. i cannot choose you. "

" no! i will not abandon you, my knight, so do not ask it of me again! "

" you seem shocked... surely you did not expect me to abandon the fate of my knight to the hands of chance and the enemy? of course i came back for you. "

[cassiefromhell]

Clairvoyant: Visions (pt. 2)

Nanami Kento x International Sorcerer!Clairvoyant!Reader

Prologue (heavily encouraged to read this first.)

wc: 2.3k

warnings: mention of blood/gore (brief descriptions), very short sexual cues, SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS you MUST be finished with season 2 please & ty

a/n: requests are always open, submit shit, im bored <3

“Nanamin,” Yuji calls, finding his teacher standing in the back of the assembly hall, his face pale. “What does this mean?”

“It means we’re getting a visitor,” Nanami frowns, hands tensed at his sides. 

“Then why is everyone so worried?”

“Because,” Gojo joins in, grinning, having appeared out of nowhere. “Everyone here is a worrywart. Nothing is going to happen.”

“Did you not receive the code?” Nanami raises a brow. “The damned Reaper Repeller is coming. The kids don’t deserve to be lied to.”

“…What’s the Reaper Repeller?” Yuji tilts his head to the side. “Some weapon?”

“I met her a couple times,” Gojo’s smile widens. “She’s pretty damn cool. She’s part of the International Squad and can see the future, so when she shows up it either means that our superiors deemed that a mission needed an extra hand, or that she saw something and is coming to change what she saw. Last time, she saw that I was gonna make a building fall or something, so she gave me a certain set of rules, like what to not do. No buildings fell, so she’s pretty legit.”

“That was an 18C18 code,” Nanami grumbles. “That didn’t even require an assembly. This is an 18J18.”

“…What’s that one, again?” Gojo gives a sheepish smile.

“I’m so lost,” Yuji mumbles, looking between the two. “18?”

Megumi walks up, followed by Nobara, and joins the conversation. “This is a J?”

Nanami nods.

“How do you break down the codes?” Nobara adds.

Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The eighteens are for R and R, due to her nickname. The letter in the middle represents what she saw. For example, she showed up to Canada a few months ago on a code 18A18, which meant a battle would cause some sort of dispute that would stir trouble. B means she saw a civilian or two die. C means she saw mass civilian death. And so on, until J. It’s the maximum letter.”

“And?” Nobara pushes, raising a brow. 

“It means she saw something very bad, and everyone has been gathered to be told who is set to die.”

Stepping off the jet, you haul your suitcase behind you, and are immediately greeted by two men. You know them both — you studied the entire Japanese Sorcerer database on your way here.

Kiyotaka Ijichi, clad in a suit with a grimace on his face.

Masamichi Yaga, principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High and teacher to one of the students you watched die.

“We would welcome you, but we know you aren’t here with good news,” Yaga says with a sigh, straightening his uniform. “Please, follow us. Ijichi will take your bags.

The pilot of your jet is already helping Mila unload the twenty-three suitcases you brought, all full to the brim with weapons and necessary training items you handpicked to make sure you turn the gate of Shibuya.

“My associate will get them,” you gesture to Mila, who is currently hooking all of the bags onto her extra limbs, leaning back a little from the weight. You grip the handle of your singular personal suitcase.

The two men nod, not bothering to even try arguing with you. Why would they, when you’ve come with death biting your heels?

You slip sunglasses off of your forehead and over your eyes, following them as you approach three cars, sleek and black with a subtle Jujutsu symbol on the back license plate. 

It’s a short car ride over, one in which you and Mila sit silently in the back of a limo, while Yaga tries to ask you questions. Nobody gets a private briefing, that’s just how you operate. You avoid all his inquiries with vague comments, crossing your legs and sipping a glass of sparkling water. International sorcerers are known for kind of being hardasses anyway, so 

You pull up to the school in no time, and Yaga escorts you and Mila through the building, down hallways and around corners. Eventually, he stops outside a large set of double doors and turns to face you.

“This is the assembly hall. All of Japan’s sorcerers are gathered behind these doors,” he gestures to the entrance. “Please remember that we have children in there.”

“I know,” you whisper. “One of them dies.”

Yaga goes very still, and you walk past him, opening the doors and immediately finding yourself on a slightly elevated platform.

A massive crowd of dark blue uniforms stands before you, all falling quiet at your entry.

You step forward, approaching a podium. Mila has her spider limbs tucked away, as to not appear threatening. She hands you a stack of papers, and you gather them, placing them on the podium as you lean forward to speak onto the microphone.

“Good Evening, sorcerers. My name is (Y/n). I won’t stretch this meeting to be longer than needed. My technique is Clairvoyance, and I am here because I have seen the future of a battle here in Japan. It will take place in Shibuya, on October 31st.”

A murmur goes through the crowd, but you clear your throat to recapture their full attention.

“I do not want you to be afraid. My visions can be changed. Without me, there will be sorcerer death, irrevocable damage, and the snuffing out of thousands of lives, including civilians. But I am here to help. To do so effectively, I will call forward the names of the affected. I will save your lives. Stop you from losing limbs. Prevent disaster. Do not be afraid.”

The room goes deadly silent.

“Nanami Kento.”

And just like that, the crowd erupts once more.

A man in the back of the crowd — the blond that you saw burnt and ultimately exploded — nods to the pink-haired boy at his side and starts making his way through the crowd.

With a sharp raising of my hand, the crowd goes silent once more, as Nanami passes soldiers who give him solemn nods.

“Kugisaki Nobara.”

You continue calling names, until you have at least a dozen sorcerers in front of you. Too many are children. There are managers, too, and other people in suits. 

Your eyes skim the crowd, then fall back to your paper, which has crumpled in your grip. You call the last name, knowing what reaction you’ll get.

“Gojo Satoru.”

The crowd erupts, the room filling shouts and surprised cries and confused discussion.

The Untouchable.

You take a steadying breath at the rowdiness and gesture towards a private briefing room to your left, raising your voice to a shout.

“I will now ask for those who have been called to follow my associate here into a separate room. You all will be privately briefed. The rest of you… you will get the minimum details from your superiors.”

With that, you step back from the podium, and even more of the gathered sorcerers start shouting, demanding more details. You ignore them — you have to. Mila guides the called ones into a side room, just as you approach a small group of superiors and give them the very basics: there will be a city cratering, and the start of many bad, bad situations. You inform them that you will be making ideal teams for the mission, which you will release in a few days’ time.

With dragging feet, you force yourself to walk to the side room, where all of the ill-fated sorcerers are.

So far, at least.

Dealing with the future is a tricky business. Changing one thing, even so simple as this meeting, will cause different futures, which you will see and have to adapt to. 

You swing open the door, and find everyone already sitting at a long, oval table.

“I’m sure you’re all not happy to be here,” you take a corner of the room to stand in, crossing your arms and attempting to look as non threatening as possible. “Unfortunately, this meeting is necessary. I’ll call you each one by one into a private space, to be told what will happen without intervention. From there, we’ll talk about options—”

“(Y/n),” Gojo interrupts, leaning back in his chair like this is all just a game. “You know me. I don’t really need to be here, do I?”

“You do.”

“What’s gonna happen, I get a scratch? Lose a limb? Shoko will fix all of that,” he drawls, putting his hands behind his head.

“Gojo, you’re going to be sealed in a box, and then a shit ton of people are going to die or be injured trying to save your ass,” you reply, narrowing your eyes. “You need to be here.”

No more arguments come.

You step forward, softening your expression, and your eyes land on the blond man, sans goggles — Nanami Kento. He’s handsome, even if in the back of your mind you still see that burned half of him. You decide he’ll be the first.

“Kento, right?” You drop the formalities — which you’re happy to do anyway, since you usually struggle with those when you’re in Japan. “Please, come with me.”

His jaw tenses as his eyes flick over you, and then he stands. You escort him into a small private room, closing the door behind you. There’s three comfortable chairs and a little coffee table, which has tissues and a pitcher of water with glasses on it. Comfort items, because people often cry.

Kento sits in one chair, and you take the one across from him. He’s exactly as you imagined in your vision. Tall, muscular, with a sharp jaw to match. He smells like vanilla and cedar. Except this time, the putrid scent of burning flesh is left out. He’s so… lovely.

“Lay it on me,” he clasps his hands together in his lap, after pulling his goggles off. 

You chew your bottom lip. You usually don’t have issues with this part of the process; the bluntness is part of your job. But something about this man is putting you off, making your mind stagger behind your duty. Typically, there’s a sniffling/worried/sobbing/angry person in front of you. But Kento? He’s so… ready for this. Not upset at all.

“You would die a hero,” you whisper.

Then you blink, realizing what you said. There’s no need for comfort here. Excessive sweetening of the truth is just counterproductive. And yet, something in you is screaming at you not to stop.

“In your current fate, a curse burns half of your body. And yet, you still fight. On death’s door, you would be noble. A good mentor for your students. One they would miss dearly,” a tear pricks at the edge of your eye. “The curse by the name of Mahito is the one to finish you off. But we will stop that path. You will live, that I can be sure of. I’m sure your future has already changed, just because this conversation is setting the base for the weeks of prevention training to come.”

If anything is going through his head, he doesn’t show it. “Does your technique show you when the future changes?”

You scratch the back of your neck. “In a way. My technique has a mind of it’s own. I can typically foresee imminent death a few moments before it happens, but I can also get mass visions like I got of Shibuya. If I need something more specific, like to see if your future changes, I would have to touch you, and then see what my technique gives… me…”

You trail off as he holds out his hand, eyes focused with intent. 

“Please,” he murmurs. 

You nod, slowly sliding your hand against his—

“Oh my gods, that’s a lot of roses,” your jaw drops, eyes widening at the sight before you. 

Your bed is littered with roses. The floor is covered in its petals. It’s beautiful, and the scent fills your nose with a loveliness like no other.

“You deserve every last one,” Kento grins, coming up behind you and kissing the nape of your neck. His arms slide around your waist. “For honoring me in being my wife.”

“Wife,” you giggle, tossing your head back to gaze up at him. “I’m never gonna get used to that. Mrs. Nanami,” your tone becomes sing-songy as you admire your engagement ring.

“Always and forever, my love,” he leans down, claiming your mouth with his. His thumbs rub against your hips, then move inwards, moving up and down the seam of your jeans crotch, as you feel him against your ass—

You pull your hand away quickly, blinking as you snap back to reality. You look to his hand, then to his face, but all you can see are his lips, those lips that kisses you better than you’ve ever been kissed in that vision—

“What did you see?” He asks, leaning forward. “What did you see?”

You open and close your mouth. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

“Well…” you start, chewing your lip. “…You live past Shibuya, that I’m certain of.”

Relief crosses his face, and he relaxes, all as your heart pounds harder.

You glance down at your left hand, the hand that now feels too light without a diamond on it. Then you glance back up to him, and even though his expression gives nothing away, you know from that vision that something else is brewing in that beautiful, beautiful head of his.

Because this man? Nanami Kento?

He’ll be your husband.

taggies: @vxmethyst @techs-ass @gasp-a-homo @doubtsanduncertainties (me when tumblr isn't showing you as a user when tagging: ) @vee-ai

want to be tagged on the next part? comment and ask!

[gallusrostromegalus]

I love everything you are doing with Orihime, if it's not too much troble, I wanted to hear more of what she does when she get kidnapped. Also did Rukia try anything when she got sentenced to death for bulshit crimes? It's been forever since I read the manga, so I don't remember what rukia was feeling exactly during this time, if she accepted the whole thing bc she has spent way too much time in the soul society that she just didn't see it how much bulshit it was or something else, or if it was just your standard damsel in distress thing

Rukia behaves in the calm, rational but firm way you'd expect out of a seated officer, especially a lieutenant that earned her position through hard work and demonstration after demonstration that she could be trusted with such a position.

...Byakuya, on the other hand, was appointed to his position by birthright as the latest scion of a long but narrow line of people who retained their power by violence as social standing. So when Byakuya experiences the psychotic crisis of "the people you respect the most want the person you love the most dead", the coinflip of his emotions lands on tails in AEIWAM.

*****

"...To Death?" She asked, staring at Renji.

"Yeah." He winced, shifting uncomfortably.

"...For a Misdemeanor Infraction that, per code 3.15.27846 sub-section 42-4, carries a MAXIMUM penalty of a month's suspension without pay while a performance review is conducted, and, pending the review, possible termination of my job, not my whole person?" She continued.

"...Um. Yeah, yeah that's the official rules per the Shingami Legal Manual." Said Renji. "It's real fuc- it's very peculiar and I'm honestly not sure what to make of it. Also, when did you learn to quote the manual like-"

"I'm a Goddamn Lieutenant, I know the law, and this stinks on ice." She glared. "I know I'm not allowed to question the orders or ask who issued them, but did you double-check that this is, in fact, what they meant to send, and didn't give you the memo for someone else or send out the wrong butterfly?"

"Um." Renji winced, pointedly studying the wall to his left. "Kuchiki-Taicho went to do that as soon as he saw the order."

Rukia blanched. "Renji. When did he leave?"

"He left for the central 46's liaison office directly from the 6th division's office when we got the order about an hour ago. I wanted to go with him, but he insisted that he could handle it and that you should get the news from me rather than a stranger."

"Abarai Renji." She spoke, voice low and dangerous. "Do you remember what happened the first day I came home from the 13th division boot camp with that shiner?'

"Yeah, Kuchiki-taicho broke into Ukitake-taicho's house with Senbonsakura at 2AM because he thought someone had hit yo-" Renji laughed then stopped. "-Oh."

"You let my brother, the absolute last person you can expect to behave in a rational and restrained manner to any perceived threats to my person, go off to visit someone who just issued an order for my extermination? UNSUPERVISED?" She growled.

Renji stood, paralyzed in wide-eyed horror. "I. uh. I gotta go prevent some treason." he sputtered, before bolting from the room.

***** "I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked uuuuuup-" Gin hissed under his breath as he ran through the maze of buildings that made up the central government's compound. "Sure Gin! Keep feeding him spiritual power Gin! It'll fix everything Gin! No way he's going to cause a massive inter-dimensional destabilization event Gin!"

He turned the corner to the central 46's liaison office, just to the side of the sealed gate, and sprinted for the small office at the base of the tower all Hell butterflies issued from, where the Gate's security guard and the Liaison worked.

"Hey guys sorry to burst in here but it's kind of an Emergen... cy." Gin shouted and then sputtered as something warm splashed underfoot. He looked down to find that the previously-beige carpet of the Liaison's office was now a deep and unpleasantly wet crimson. Behind him, there was a faint creak as the unsealed and unguarded gate swayed lightly in the breeze.

"Oh." Gin realized, wilting. "I'm in deep shit."

[dynamic-power]

Steddie Time Travel AU, Back to the Past part 7

Part 1 | Part 6 | Read it here on ao3

1986

Two hours after Dustin’s voice first came over the radio, there’s a knock on the front door. Robin glares at Steve before he can get up from where he’s sitting on his couch and Nancy disappears into the foyer to let Dustin in. 

“What’s the emergency?” he demands as soon as he comes into the room. 

He’s a kid again. 15, if Steve remembers right, and he looks like it, too. He’s still in his awkward phase, before he figured out his curls or any sense of style. 

Not even a glare from Nancy could have kept Steve sitting. He stands, probably a bit too fast, and swoops Dustin into his arms the same way he had Robin. “Hi, buddy,” he says over the sound of Dustin’s protests being muffled into his shoulder. 

“What’s going on?” Dustin asks wildly when Steve puts him down again. He gestures between Steve and the other teens before looking Steve up and down. “You seem fine.”

“‘Fine’ is relative,” Nancy says, crossing her arms and sitting delicately on the arm of the couch. “Physically, no. He’s not.”

“Mentally, he’s not, either, but that’s not new,” Robin quips. Steve swats at her but she dodges him with a grin. “Look, Dusty, why don’t you sit.”

Obediently, Dustin sits in the armchair to his left. “Okay, now spill.”

“Why were you calling code red earlier?” Steve asks. 

Dustin’s eyes go wide. “Well, Mike and I were headed out towards the high school. We heard they found another case of peanut butter, and the Wheeler’s didn’t get one the other day, and the first food shipment isn’t expected in until-”

“Dustin.”

Dustin smiles apologetically. “Right. We found another gate.”

Nancy sighs. “I was afraid of that.”

“You were? ‘Cause it surprised the shit outta Mike ‘n me. We thought-”

“We found another one, too,” Nancy says, “but we were on the other side of Hawkins. Can you mark it on a map?”

“Uh, sure. With a big circle labeled ‘Avoid’.”

“We went into ours,” Steve says, and smiles a little as Dustin gapes in horror. 

“You did what?”

“That’s not all,” Nancy continues, and she tells Dustin what she’d told Robin and Steve while they were waiting. She and Steve went into the gate, and stumbled on what looked to be another gate, but instead of tearing into their world, it seemed to just tear into another version of the Upside Down. “Steve went in, and a few minutes later, it physically ejected him. Then when he woke up, he was-” but she pauses here, and Steve knew it was because she wasn’t totally sure of what had actually happened to Steve. 

“I’m not the Steve you know,” Steve says, and Dustin frowns at him. “I mean, I am. But I’m older.”

“What do you mean, older?”

“I’m 41. I’m from the year 2008. Something happened when your Steve went into that other gate, and somehow, we got swapped.”

Dustin pauses, and Steve can see the thoughts racing through that brilliant mind. It takes him a few minutes, but eventually, Dustin’s eyes go impossibly wide. “You mean like time travel?”

“Not like time travel. Actual time travel. And I remember when it happened to me, more than 20 years ago, too.”

Dustin seems unable to contain himself, throwing his arms up and flailing them around as he spins in a circle. “Holy shit. Holy shit! Do you understand the implications of this? That it’s possible, and maybe cyclical and-”

“Kid, we don’t have time for you to go crazy over this,” Steve teases. “We’ve got about a week, and we have a lot of shit to do.”

“Like what?” Dustin asks. 

“Like a rescue mission.”

Dustin’s face lights up with glee. “Who are we rescuing?”

Steve faulters at this. He remembers how much Eddie’s “death” had hurt Dustin. And for the teenager staring at him, it had only happened a few days ago. He is still trying to come to terms with the loss, still grieving. Steve knows Nancy and Robin are thinking the same things as they shuffle and squirm on either side of him. 

Dustin picks up on their hesitation. His smile disappears and his gaze zeroes in on Steve. “Who are we rescuing, Steve?”

“Eddie.”

Steve’s heart breaks as a dozen emotions seem to fly across Dustin’s face in just a few seconds. Disbilief, hope, pain, before he his face twists and finally goes blank. “He’s dead.”

“No.”

“No, he’s dead, Steve. He’s dead, because if he isn’t, then that means- then that means we left him, Steve, and we- we didn’t do that. We couldn’t do that. Steve, tell me we didn’t leave him behind.” Dustin’s eyes fill with tears and Steve reaches for him again. He’s still short enough that Steve can tuck him under his chin, and he does, rubbing his back soothingly as he begins to sob against Steve’s shoulder. 

It takes a few minutes before Dustin has calmed enough that Steve can hold him at arms length and talk again. “I need you to listen to me,” Steve says, and Dustin, red-eyed and hiccuping, nods. “We did exactly what we needed to do. Do you hear me? He was torn up pretty badly. We thought he was dead, and we weren’t. We still had a chance to live and we had to get out of there. We did, and here we are, alive. Eddie wanted that. That’s why he did what he did. So that you could be standing here, alive. Okay? If we had stayed, we wouldn’t have made it out.”

Dustin seems to seriously consider this for a moment. Finally, he nods again. “Where you come from, your time line. He’s alive?”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek. He wants to tell Dustin everything; tell him about Eddie and Barb, tell him about his own wife and kids, about the amazing career he’s going to have, the wonderful life they are all going to get to live if everything goes the way it did the first time around. Instead, he settles for, “Yeah. I don’t want to get your hopes up too high, but where I come from, he’s very much alive.”

Dustin’s shoulders set and he tips his chin up, looking determined. “Then let’s go get him.”

-----

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[iifishizzleii]

sibling johnny mactavish includes

unedited😛

having eight sisters.

this man has ‘younger brother’ energy written all over him. he’s the middle child, but by the time his parents got to having johnny, they were already at the ‘eh, i don’t care what you do just don’t die’ phase parents get at with their kids. which meant that it was up to his four older sisters to raise the boy right.

johnny knows how to read women. and while it’s partly because his sisters taught him well, it’s also because living in a house full of that many women meant learning their language or fucking perishing. this man is fluent in eyelingual. he knows every eyebrow raise, side-eye, narrowed gaze to a pointed look. who needs morse code in the military when you got eyelingual?

being a big character

because when you learn the language, of course you’re going to want to learn the culture as well. and johnny mactavish has been submerged in women culture all his life. which means three things:

one, he knows how to play the long game. whether it comes with petty revenge or simply asking for something from a higher power (his oldest sister), johnny is the king of waiting it out, finding the sweet spot of those moments and taking it. it’s the reason why only he, out of the entire task force, can get away with so much shit when it comes to laswell.

two, johnny knows how to be mean without being rude. thanks to the second and third mactavish daughters, his sisters (bless their heart), johnny knows how to kiss a person’s cheek while stabbing them with verbal cues. his sisters would do it all the time to each other and to guests that came over that they didn’t like. and it paid off being the brunt of so many passive aggressive comments because johnny’s work sometimes requires being civil, but that doesn’t mean he has to be a gentleman.

and three, johnny knows how to play dumb. really. it’s almost scary how quick this guy can go from playing with sticks and making dumb jokes about mud, to building a bomb made of sticks and mud. and it was his younger siblings, surprisingly, who taught johnny that being as pretty of a family that they were (because let’s be fr, soap is gorgeous), nobody expects them to know how to think. it makes getting out of certain situations and receiving special treatment so much more easier, too, when all you gotta do is give a charming smile and bat your eyelashes (ghost has been at the receiving end and has fallen for this act far too many times to let anyone else know).

having really thick skin

a lot of people think having an older brother is tough. and hey, it is! ghost would argue its a lot meaner than having a sister, because sisters are naturally more nurturing, nicer, and kinder than brothers are.

and for the most part, that was true. all of johhny’s sisters are good people. they’re kind, yes, and helpful and overall worthy of their spots through the pearly gates. but they’re not fucking nice. the fuck.

the amount of times johnny was dragged out of bed to take out the trash at the crack ass of dawn is ridiculous. he should have brain damage now from how many times his head hit the floor. but, he was the only boy, so all the ‘manly’ jobs like mowing the lawn, washing the cars, bringing in the groceries, all of those were johnny’s chores. (but, even then, most people would pass their home and see several girls—blondes, brunettes, and gingers— washing the porch, the family truck, and tending to the yard. johnny was j

and that’s not even to mention the psychological warfare. mactavish’s are infamous for their temper, so when you’re living with eight other land mines dressed in heels and lashes just waiting to be stepped on, everyday was a different fight blowing up in the house. and when you got insulted by your sister, johnny learned that the only way to deflect is by hitting them with something meaner a lot more quickly or you’d cry.

like that time johnny blamed the wet floor in their bathroom on all of the leg hair his younger sister kept shaving and getting stuck in the drain so the water flowed out the tub and soaked the tiles. and she automatically replied with, “or maybe it’s all the grease from the back of your fat fucking neck dragging on the ground that’s making the tiles wet”. (it was their other sister’s fault it turned out.)

loving the hard times

because as much as johnny could give his family shit for all of the bad days, none of them could compare to the good ones.

the mornings where he woke up to the smell of sourdough pancakes and sizzling bacon.

when his sister would pull him out of school early to go shopping at the mall, and she’d buy him a new toy or cool shirt.

when he did one of them a favor and later that week she’d taken johnny to get some greasy fast food with her to eat at a park because she wasn’t trying to buy food for the whole house.

when his younger sisters spent their first daddy-daughter dance standing on his church shoes and holding his hands because their real father wasn’t around anymore.

when they spend the rest of the day outside spraying each other with the water hose after washing the cars because the house was too hot, and sandwiches with premade lemonade under the tree was lunch.

when the winter winds were so strong they broke the heater, and the family spent a week having a slumber party in the living room to keep warm.

when they all got matching tattoos on the ankle, a roman numeral for each sibling.

when johnny went off to join the army, leaving his sisters for the first time, they all went to the airport to see him off.

[f1-stuff]

Mallorca AU please :)

Hii ❤️ (previous shared bit) and an 880-word snippet for you :

They run back to Carlos’ bike, yelling and laughing as the rain quickly goes from a light misting to what Charles would describe as a downpour.

“We can’t ride your bike in this!” he insists, even as Carlos swings his leg to straddle the seat.

“What do you mean? It’s just a bit of rain,” Carlos shouts. His joke is punctuated by another rumble of thunder. “Get on - hurry.”

Charles doesn’t waste time arguing, although he does laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation as he once again climbs onto the handlebars. He fumbles around, sliding a bit on the wet metal, but Carlos helps to balance him like last time, a hand at his waist that somehow exactly aligns with Charles feeling a bit short of breath. And then, they’re off, Charles squinting against the rain, as Carlos maneuvers them onto the road.

He seems to know where he’s going, despite Charles’ rather pathetic description of where their villa is. So Charles just holds on and blinks water from his eyes.

“I am like your windshield,” he yells, over his shoulder. “Blocking all the rain.” Carlos laughs at his back.

“Thank you, very helpful,” Carlos teases.

It takes them, probably, five minutes or so to get to the nearest bus stop. Charles hadn’t known that was where they were headed, but luckily Carlos isn’t crazy enough to think they could bike all the way to the house in this rain. He thinks Carlos might leave him now, but when he sticks to Charles’ side as they wait for the bus, huddled underneath the small covered bench, Charles feels inexplicably warm. 

Even more so when, as the bus pulls up, Carlos climbs on with him, managing to fit his bike inside with minimal effort, which speaks to him having potentially done it before, as well as talk to the driver about the stop they need and how much it’ll cost. He fishes the amount they need from his pocket, ignoring Charles’ attempt to protest.

“You can cover me next time,” he says. And it makes Charles feel even warmer - the promise of ‘next time’.

They sit side-by-side for the ride, which must be about a half hour or so. But Charles can’t be sure because his eyes quickly start to get heavy, lulled by the hum of the bus’ engine and the rain pattering against the window. He doesn’t decide to close his eyes, but he wakes up some time later to Carlos’ hand gently shaking his knee.

“Almost there,” he says softly, very close to Charles’ ear. Which is also when Charles realizes his head is resting on Carlos’ shoulder. 

He sits up straight, his cheeks hot. Carlos just grins.

“Sorry,” he says, on reflex.

“It’s alright,” Carlos replies, and he sounds like he means it. 

Still, Charles stares pointedly out the window as he waits for his face to stop flushing, until the bus is approaching their stop and Carlos stands to make his way with his bike to the door. They step out into the rain once again, waiting for the bus to pull away before Carlos gestures for him to climb back on the bike.

“It’ll be faster than walking,” he says, over the sound of the rain.

Carlos pedals as fast as he can, Charles giving him directions once he recognizes where they are. But they’re still soaked by the time they pull up to the gates of the villa. Charles crows in victory as he jumps off the bike, Carlos laughing as he watches him punch in the code.

They hardly wait for the gates to open a sliver before they’re pushing through and running toward the covered porch. Carlos lets the bike fall to the ground as they take cover, both of them catching their breath. Charles looks in amazement at the rain that’s bucketing down.

“Do you want to come in?” he asks, thinking it’s hardly smart for Carlos to ride home in this weather.

“I can’t. It’s Sunday and my family has this tradition,” Carlos says, waving his hand in the air. “Sunday night dinners.” Charles nods, something like disappointment settling in his stomach.

“Do you want a ride?” he asks. “Come on, you can’t go on your bike.” Carlos just shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take the bus back.”

Charles chews on his lip, not wanting to accept Carlos’ solution but not sure he’ll be able to convince him otherwise. Ultimately, he just doesn’t want to say goodbye yet. But he thinks it would sound pretty pathetic (and strange) if he insisted on driving Carlos for that reason.

Carlos laughs, then, surprising Charles out of his thoughts. “You are so wet,” he says, reaching up to smooth Charles’ dripping hair off of his forehead.

Carlos’ breath tickles his face, and he realizes just how close they’re standing. He’s close enough to see the freckles on Carlos’ nose and cheeks, the water beading along his skin, the parting of his lips. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him and the heaviness of his gaze as their eyes meet. Carlos’ hand lingers in his hair by his ear. Charles swallows, his tongue feeling suddenly heavy and thick in his mouth.

He doesn’t know why it still surprises him when Carlos kisses him.

And that's all you get... 😏

WIP Wednesday