#I have no such excuses other than poor self-management

[coldgoldlazarus]

I don't know what's better or worse

The projects I can't really do anything with because the base concept and scope simply lie outside of my field of skill (Citadel Of Splinters or Re-Pioneer, which are games; and Black Lotus or [Minigun Angel Project], which are meant to be manga)

Or the projects I can work on easily but just haven't gotten as far with as I should due to procrastination and lack of focus (Metroid Silence, Magical Girl Parallel Inversion, retooling Magical Girl Diurnal Retribution away from its original badly-considered format, The Forbidden Lands, etc.)

Or the one that legitimately straddles the line between, it's doable but is gonna take a lot of effort and branching out: [Yuri Otome Project]

[plussizeficchick]

Breeder’s Digest! | Nanami x Chubby!Reader

Summary; Nanami’s always wanted kids, but there’s something about you taking care of your nieces and nephews that just get him going.

Warnings; smut(breeding kink(like huge), pregnancy kink?, cunnlingus, P in V, cockwarming(mentioned), ooc!Nanami?, not proofread(y’all know what it is))

Sn: This was originally requested by @shadofireshinobi but friend I could never do it justice like how you requested😫but I hope you like it boo💕

He truly doesn’t know what came over him.

Nanami prides himself on his self control. Sure, there are times when it becomes too much, you’re a bit too tempting, but he’s always been able to keep himself in check.

So where the fuck is that same composure?

Really, he should’ve known better when you said your nieces and nephews would be at the gathering your family was having for Christmas, he just didn’t think it’d result to this.

It just became too much, the sight of you holding your baby niece to your chest, the way you so carefully cradled her, making sure to position her head right.

It just came so naturally to you.

The way you were able to calm her when she was getting fussy, the soft way you cooed at her when she did just about anything, it was getting to him. 

The want, the need, to fuck you full of his cum, to see you nice and round with his child.

He simply couldn’t wait.

— —

You aren’t sure what’s come over Nanami.

You thought everything was fine, you were at your parents house to spend time with them and your sister, along with her new bundle of joy but as you spent time there, Nanami started to act off.

You two had broached the topic of children briefly in the past. It was a mutual agreement that you both wanted them, just when the time was right.

So you’re confused as to what spurred this reaction.

After your niece was put down for a nap, Nanami gave your family a poor excuse as to why you had to leave earlier than anticipated and all but carried you out the door.

You tried to ask what came over him, but he merely shut you down with a searing kiss, stealing your breath away. “I need you.” He groaned against your mouth. He was struggling to hold himself back, desperate to get you squirming in his cock.

You whine against his lips, pulling back just enough to ask him what happened, when he pulls you right back into him, mumbling about getting you home.

— —

After narrowly avoiding crashing, you both managed to stumble into your shared home, Nanami hoisting you up to grind your clothed core against his. “Feel me, pretty? It’s all f’you.” He murmurs against your lips, the taste of you too addicting.

You grind against him, your panties accumulating an embarrassing amount of slick as you feel his hardness. “Need you, Ken. So bad.” You whine. The friction on your clit is delicious, but you need more. 

“Gonna fill you up.” He promises, walking you to your shared bedroom. “Gonna get you nice and full of my kids.” Your heart thrums at the mention of this, pussy clenching involuntarily. Nanami quirks a brow at that, a smirk making its way to his face. “Oh? She likes the sound of that, hm?”

Your heart just about falls to your ass.

He places you on the bed and strips you both of your clothes, kissing and sucking your most sensitive areas before finally placing his mouth where you need him most.

You gasp as he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue laving over the bundle of nerves as one of his hands to reach up and tweak one of your sensitive nipples. He uses his other hand to push one of your knees up, giving him a bit more access to your center. You cry out as he licks a bold stripe up your core, his eyes demanding contact. 

“You taste so good, pretty. I wonder, will you taste different when you’re swollen with my child? Will you taste even sweeter?” He works a finger into you, thrusting shallowly at first, but as you grind your hips into him, he picks up the pace. “I can’t wait to see your tits swell with milk. You won’t ever have to worry about them being too heavy, I’ll help with that, my dear.” Your mind is too clouded to understand the double meaning behind his words, too focused on chasing your orgasm. “Please.” You beg, though, you don’t really know what you're begging for. Nanami does, however, working in a second and third finger as his tongue works wonders on your clit.

It doesn’t take long before you cum, body spasming underneath him. He works you through it, pressing tender kisses along your body before making his way to your lips. “Need to fuck you, princess. Gotta fill you up.” He murmurs against you, cock grinding into your sopping cunt. You whimper as he strokes himself through your folds just right, tip bumping against your clit every so often.

He eventually takes pity on you, slowly stretching you around his thick length as he sets a steady pace. He pulls back a little to get a good look at your face. Drool spilling down your kiss-swollen lips, eyes hazy as he has you creaming around his cock, tits bouncing deliciously as he fucks into you.

So pretty.

“Can’t wait to see my baby in you.” He groans, the image of you round and your tits swollen making him that much harder inside you. He picks up the pace, angling his hips to hit your g-spot as he thumbs your clit. “Cum for me, Princess. Make a mess for me. Please, baby.” He practically begs. His cock is near to bursting the way you're clenching around him. 

You’re tearing up, the feeling of his cock inside you almost overwhelming. Just as you begin to cry out from your orgasm, Nanami captures your lips in a messy kiss, tongues mingling together sloppily. “Gonna cum f’you, princess. Gonna fill you up and I don’t want a fucking drop spilling out. Understand?” He practically snarls in your ear. And for some reason, it has your pussy clenching. 

He spills his seed deep inside you; a deep, guttural groan escaping him as he fucks deep into you, eager to paint your womb. His large hands roam the expanse of your tummy lovingly before he’s flipping you both over so you’re laying on top of him. He presses soft kisses along your neck even though you’re both spent, basking in each other’s warmth. 

Nanami knows that it’ll take a while before you’re showing, but as you lay there cockwarming him, he can’t help but be excited for what the future will hold.

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @luna-indigoduh @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon

[the-karma-cafe]

Oh, Arthur | Arthur Morgan

(also posted on ao3 under same username)

in which arthur is desperate for an excuse for you to touch him ;(

“Oh, Arthur,” a voice called exasperatedly from the campfire.

Arthur blinked blearily, still in the early stages of waking up. Already?  He grumbled a little under his breath, not expecting to be bothered the second he exited his tent. Usually he had at least a minute to himself; perhaps he had not quite earned that this week. He rubbed an eye and glanced around.

Approaching him from his left, one hand holding a steaming cup of coffee and the other on her hip, was (Y/N). She rolled her eyes, and once she reached him, thrust out the cup towards him, its piping contents jostling about dangerously. He made a noise of surprise and took it from her, immediately balancing it in his grip. He looked down into the cup, its rich scent wafting up to meet his nose. “’S this for me?” he mumbled, voice still roughened from sleep. He coughed, clearing his throat self-consciously. The coffee swayed in the cup. 

"No." came her clipped response, like it was obvious. He scrunched up his nose, his gaze moving from the cup to her face. What crawled up her-?

Her hands were reaching up towards him, and he felt himself hold his breath. They stopped just under his face, grabbing at his collar. "What..." he breathed, his eyes tracking her movement, tucking his chin into his chest to watch. Her fingers tugged at the wrinkled fabric, unfolding it from the poor state it was in, and pulling down at it to straighten it.

She moved closer, huffing something under her breath he couldn't make out. His eyes moved back up to her, catching on that strand of hair that always fell out of her updo. His hand twitched.

"There." And suddenly she was gone, along with the warmth from the cup in his hand. He dumbly looked down at his now-empty hand, feeling ten times slower than everything around him this morning. 

"...Thanks?" 

Her laugh rang out. "You're welcome, Mr. Morgan." He looked back up at her, watching her twist and walk away from him. "Can't have you out robbin' in such a sorry state—stains the Van der Linde name!" she called out from over her shoulder.

"I suppose." he responded, more to himself, and long after she had left.

He spent a beat longer in that spot, feeling rooted to the ground. A cuff on the shoulder broke him from his trance, and he sheepishly stalked off to his horse.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

The next day, it happened again. Then again. Then again. There was always something off about how he looked, and she would tirelessly trot over to fix it. His collar was wrinkled, his suspenders uneven, his hair messed up, his clothes dirty... it wasn’t always first thing in the morning, sometimes it was after he had returned from town or from hunting. He had barely had time to dismount his horse before she was on him, smacking dirt off his front.

“Take a quick roll in the pig sty before you came back?” she prompted, sounding a bit irritated by his state of disarray. She seemed to get more and more annoyed with him the more this went on.

He shrugged, hiding a grin as she rounded his form to brush off his back. “Gotta get low to hunt, sweetheart.” he drawled, turning towards her before she could finish brushing him off.

She scowled. “So why is it Charles always manages to come back looking fine?”

Charles huffed a laugh from the other side of his horse. She sighed, her eyes zeroing in on another spot above his chest. She reached out and brushed it off. “You’re hopeless.”

Apparently deeming him clean enough, she wandered off to speak with Hosea.

“You’ve always been unkempt, Arthur." Charles prompted, rounding Taima. "What’s with her sudden interest?”

Arthur shrugged again, hearing his smile more than feeling it. “Must’ve got sick of me.”

Charles hummed, watching Arthur stare after her.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Oh, he was a fool.

Arthur's reflection stared back at him: collar rumpled, one suspender off his shoulder, hair mussed. He almost scooped up dirt from the ground, but the slightest twinge of shame stopped him before he could. He shook his head, looking away. It was midday, she'd likely be busy with something else and not even notice. He forced himself to leave his tent.

He didn’t make it two steps out before being pushed right back in.

“Arthur have y’lost yer mind??” her hands were on him in an instant, righting his suspender and checking the other for good measure, fixing his collar, running her hands through his hair... he felt giddy, unable to fight the guilty smile on his face. It felt nice, to be doted on like this. The messier he was, the longer she’d have her hands on him.

“What’ve you got to smile about?!” she huffed, turning him around to face the small mirror on his table. He easily let himself be manhandled, glimpsing her contorted expression in the mirror. “It’s there for a reason!”

She moved to leave, but he caught her wrist, lightly tugging her back. He kept his hold soft. Her brow furrowed, but she allowed herself to be stopped, making his heart skip hopefully in his chest.

“I..." he smiled nervously, "I think you missed a spot.” he teased, dragging his other hand through his hair to mess it up again.

Her eyes followed this movement before snapping to his. He widened his smile, attempting to tamp down the anxious energy thrumming beneath its surface. Her gaze softened. She gently removed her wrist from his hold, watching his shoulders sag the slightest amount. It was stupid, he knew. He knew he was making a fool of himself.

“Oh, Arthur,” she sighed, a smile twisting her lips. He felt her hands in his hair, and his eyelids fluttered closed, eager to feel the scrape of her nails against his scalp. “You could’ve just asked.”

[jhuzen]

a what? [m.reader]

this… idk what this is. it’s very indulgent so excuse the very chill grammar. my head is hammered by all the hot men in hsr. so here. yes, they won me over (jfc how could they not my god, i’ve been waiting on them for months) ☠️ so here’s a self-indulgent cat-boy alignment from some tall men in hsr. i’ve been playing since the release and i’m already just a few exps away from level 40 send help.

𖦹 nsfw/suggestive contents, hcs ig, i use the speculative name for the trailblazer hehe, top reader :’D, this is basically a shitpost but also not LMAO.

GEPARD LANDAU — official dogboy, a lapdog too if you will

is this even a question at this point?

he’s your little pup (maybe not so little), and he radiates that golden retriever vibes. he’s a little more serious than that, sure, but rest assured, he’s always on you when you need him and he’s not particularly swamped with his guard duties as the captain.

he never fails to light up every time you pass by him when he’s out on patrol. he appreciates your little visits of course, sometimes even stopping by to bring him some food when you can. but there’s always something so magical whenever he sees you around the city, just minding your own business, not really aware that he can see you from his post.

and there’s just a spike of serotonin in gepard’s brain every time he ‘bumps’ into you in one of your personal excursions, romancing you with such subtlety (it’s really not much subtle, everyone and their mother in belobog knows you and him are together).

he thinks he’s so slick, trying to smooth talk you, when really, the tips of his ears are bright red, while you, completely unfazed only tried to hold in a laughter. what a trooper your boyfriend truly is!

serval thinks she should be getting second hand embarrassment from her brother’s actions towards you, but you both just looked so sweet that she just had to enjoy the view of you humoring her stiff as hell brother. he’s way too serious on the field (rightfully so), but it was all the more endearing to see a bit of that innocent glee that gepard somehow manages to manifest with you around.

he’s your good dogboy bro, always ready to serve you. though that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate getting spoiled. your massages, especially your back rubs, are the highlight of his day after a grueling training — after his nice hot shower, with you guiding him all the way to your shared bedroom to give him a nice massage, it’s absolute bliss for him.

the cute sighs and the way his face becomes scrunched up as you worked the knots away from his muscles was adorable.

and if… the mood provides it, often times it leads to something a little bit more intimate than your wholesome little act of service.

gepard is a babygirl through and through man. he takes everything that you give him like a champ — extremely cooperative and will do anything as you say. maybe it’s because he likes being ordered around for once, maybe it’s because he finds it incredibly attractive to see you take charge… it could go either way and it drives him nuts.

he’s very loud, so you will be entertained at the plethora of ways gepard has to come up with just so he can’t be heard by the other neighbors while you completely wreck him.

handle with care after, please, he has to go to work the next day! we can’t have the famed captain of the silvermane guards limping around >:((

𐂂

SAMPO KOSKI — absolute mid with the way he’s a dog for seeking attention and a cat for being such a little bitch

congrats! you have a weird man for a boyfriend. the man that roams the streets of belobog be it in the underworld or overworld.

you vaguely recall the first time you and him met was when he was trying to persuade an overworld citizen in buying something, and you, as shameless as you are, moved towards him and squeezed the skin of his exposed waist, making the poor man yelp.

you gave him one questionable look before slut-shaming him with that getup, but not before buying your much needed supplies and leaving a sack of belobog currency.

admittedly, your relationship with sampo began as a transactional one. you buy stuff from him and he rewards you with a relatively risqué entertainment that your old folks would certainly faint from if they knew in the first place. but, as it turns out, even such a peculiar relationship can grow an oasis of genuine fondness for each other.

your dates before were just you and him meeting up in his place, hanging out, and then both of you just go on your separate ways. nowadays, it’s him that comes inside your house, incredibly woeful and in need of your attention and you oblige him regardless of how whiny he is.

oh, right, yes. sampo is whiny, have you seen him around his comrades? the man has the ‘woe is me’ attitude every now and then, and more often than not, you instigate that form of reaction whenever you tease him with a grin on your face.

there’s reasonable (or so i hope) amount of you calling out his outfit and why he feels the need to expose his waist only. sampo said it’s to attract customers like you, and you gotta hand the win on him on that one. though, it was becoming far more evident that you no longer see him as just an entertainment value and you as his source of income.

so. bloody. needy. it’s like he can’t live without your attention — thank the stars that the ban between the overworld and the underworld was lifted eventually so he can visit you more on the surface. one minute he skirts out of your home after some good fucking and then the next, he crawls back to you pathetically like a kicked puppy.

though, that is only to say that you got sampo absolutely hooked with your touches that he feels still lingering on his skin — you had an affinity for just harassing his poor waist while you call him names. he loves it anyway.

his clinginess comes with merit though, he appreciates the skin contact and you appreciate that chest of his to lay on. absolute king. if you tell him that his tits are the only selling point of why you finally fell for him, he will sulk and just sigh all day, looking at you with such disappointment.

“so i’m just a slab of meat to you, huh?” — sampo koski, xxxx

“pretty sure what’s in here are fats.” — you, nuzzling your face in his chest, xxxx

honestly, dating sampo feels like a one night stand, considering that he’s willing to limp away from your home in the crack of dawn, but it also feels just as endearing when he seeks you out or if you do the seeking, you could see how genuinely delighted sampo is to have you near him.

𐂂

JING YUAN — certified cat boy that’s just too good at fucking [with] you

mercilessly sly and an absolute mastermind, jing yuan has his fair share of mischief in the first place and you aren’t one he can spare despite having the honor of being the famed general’s partner.

you’re not so much of a fighter, you’re just a humble assistant to fu xuan (she disapproves of your poor taste in men though), but you learned to sleep with one eye open at the cost of you getting completely mauled to death by a general in need of his lover’s touch. he jumps at you with little to no warning, and you’re not certain if you should be proud of his stealth skills or just straight up be terrified lest you wake up to a succubus sucking you dry.

all that aside though, jing yuan is a passionate partner behind closed doors. he might look passive, but he’s sure to constantly be listening to your mumbling, even down to you just listing down what you need to buy for your home. he loves every part of you undoubtedly.

though, he likes to randomly charge you these fees wherein the currency is your warm hug. he could be a lot taller than you and still drape himself to your side while you hold him with one arm all the while cooking with the other.

a big, biiiiig cat, that’s for sure. and he accepts it, but on the account that you use it to tease lil ol’ him, get ready to be milked dry or at the very least, deprived of any form of affection from your cat.

he’s got a bit of an attitude too. he dreads the fact that you have a far more gentle disposition to his subordinates compared to him. you’re always so hard on him on work days, it makes him feel so lonely.

alas he has a remedy for that, particularly something you didn’t like at all.

mischief and a bored jing yuan on slow days are days you reminded yourself not to enter his office on, just to be safe and not get lured into his silly tricks. it always somehow fails, considering that he still is the general, and even though you are acting as fu xuan’s guide/assistant more than the general’s right hand man, you can’t refuse his calls because it’s still one of your responsibilities.

your cunning partner made sure to take advantage of that and cue… you writhing and breathless on his seat while he helped himself to your… offering from under the table. he promises he will be quick, but jing yuan is insatiable. for every time this happens, once or twice, a cloud knight would walk in to look for their general, and you had to talk to them without even giving away the embarrassing position you’re in.

hands down, a pillow princess if he’s not riding you to death. he’s the dozing general, but when the mood calls for it, he can take charge and just… leave you dry. so good luck with that.

cherishes the aftercare, he loves the slow intimate moments between you and him after. and if you’re a god at it, you can’t ever make him leave the bed, ever.

you once said, “oooh big stretch” when your beloved general did so one morning. that was the first and quite possibly the last time that you had him completely speechless for a good second. and that was saying a lot, considering that he always has the last word in your conversations. it became a core memory lmao.

𐂂

BLADE — another ultra catboy… except it’s the kind of cat that demands a lot from you after scratching your face

how in the many worlds did you ever pull this tormented man and his big sword? it’s concerning, really. kafka finds it amusing though that you even managed to make a space for yourself in blade’s little emo heart.

just laying it out there, you and blade babysit silver wolf and there’s no getting out of it apparently. kafka already placed you as the voice of reason when the one time she sent out only blade to look after silver wolf while you were off stalking the astral express gang, he dressed like a hobo, so much that he became extremely suspicious in sight more than he ever could dressed as just himself.

that aside, blade is probably one of the most demanding lovers you have dated (threateningly jealous at times too). no one can top him (but you ehe), he’s like a grumpy cat, literally swiping at you on the first few months before suddenly caving and asking you for almost everything.

really he just misses you, but he’s not into admitting such a fact. for the years that he’s gone through, whatever it may have been, you who did not care about who he was before was something that drew him in even more, you went at your own pace and it was no different when you became his. there was a sense of comfort that you brought to him.

so anyway, demanding partner that wants nothing but you. he’s extremely protective, which you found endearing, until you realized he will point a sword even to a little kid who so much as insults your face. not really good when you’re gathering intel when elio asks you both to do so.

dates with blade either includes the stellaron hunters because they are very fond of your relationship and are very nosy… or just you and him cooped up in your room, sleeping together, or ‘sleeping together’. not all too grand, but on missions that elio sends you both out on, you take the time to indulge your beloved and eat on different places, trying out delicacies of every particular world you visited in. blade doesn’t say much, but with the way his hand grips onto yours tightly already says a lot.

just throwing it out there, he is… quiet in bed. a grunter or a gasper, but if you really, really hit the right spot, he gives the deepest whine that leaves him shaking.

you either handle him with care or if he asks for it, go rough on him. like what was said, blade knows what he wants and will demand it from you all the same, no exceptions. and if you fail to live up to his expectations, he will move himself all the while glaring at you with so much disappointment.

he has… insane stamina, and if you can’t keep up, you better start working on that. the last thing that you want is to disappoint your vengeful boyfriend that has a lot of issues on his back. and while it’s not too bad of a sight to see your beloved imitate a sulking cat, it’s not so good when he ignores you. it’s not just about sex, if you so much as get that disappointing stare, best make it up to him and treat him like he’s your everything (as you should).

you once saw kafka and silver wolf planning out wedding destinations for you and blade at some point. you are unsure how to feel about your comrade’s deep involvement in your relationship — even more so when elio suggested the big wedding after you lot have accomplished your mission to the universe.

anyway, to say the least, your catboy is overly possessive and knows what he wants and can and will demand it from you. but even with such an overbearing personality and a terrifying look on his pretty face, you were already well versed in the blade language.

he thanks you on nights when you’re just out cold, probably tired from a mission, pressing a soft kiss on the side of your head. this man may have already considered elio’s proposal of the wedding date (jk).

𐂂

DAN HENG — third cat in a row. are all xianzhou men cats? but he’s the cat that’s quietly watching you, always listening

what do you mean he’s a [redacted for spoilers]? absolutely not. this man is a cat through and through.

the cat that silently watches you from afar while you do your own work. perhaps it’s because you always offer a sense of tranquility that dan heng found himself deeply enamored with you. you were just… so peaceful. it helped a lot, your presence soothed his deeply rooted anxieties born from his past. it’s as simple as you just shrugging and telling him, “why bother with anything else when i am alright where i am right now,” and dan heng fell hard.

you are as expressive as you can get, and can even get on the trailblazer and march’s antics. but the fact that you were mature enough to let yourself be resigned to the fate of time, that you were able to accept things as they are far better than anyone could, it was something your dearly beloved dan heng admired. in a sense, he also wanted to emulate whatever you’ve got going on.

bettering himself even more just because he loves you? goals. you changed this man and that was a sworn promise that he will never ever leave you from then on. always prowling around you, babysitting march 7th with you, reluctantly holding the trash the trailblazer rummages through with you, teaching old man welt how to use his beacon with you, etc.

that’s it, you can never pry dan heng out of your life anymore (unless you ask him to, in which case, please don’t, the man already has a lot to carry, how do you expect him to bear the weight of a broken heart from someone he thought he found happiness in?).

this catboy definitely lacks the expressiveness that you have, but just like any other stoic cat owner out there, you’ve basically read him well at that point. it’s almost as if you have the urge to make a guidebook about your boyfriend, and the aeons know that everyone in the astral express will eat it up.

he’s a little hard to coax at first to be more open in the beginning parts, but give him some time and he will be quicker to pry open than any other food that has an equally hard shell.

same thing in your more… intimate moments. give him some time to get used to things, especially if you’ve got far more experience at this sort of activity. go gentle, he loves the cradling embrace every time you ease yourself into him. he gets shy randomly out of nowhere in the middle of your little session, so do be patient.

though rest assured, he will grow bolder, eventually asking you to do all sorts of things that even you weren’t aware he knows about. he’s very eager to learn from you all the more, not just about the things that he prefers but what you also want! he’s extremely observant with your reactions, where you like to be touched.

let him take control every once in awhile, let him know that even in something as intimate as this, he can have a say. let him ride you until whenever, let him go at his own pace and he absolutely will lose his mind over that. the feeling of your arms around him, securing him in a tight hug while he drapes himself over you? dan heng will go nuts.

he’s also… very vocal. but he tries his best to keep it to a minimum lest you both let everyone in the express know what’s happening. usually though, you two only get frisky when everyone’s off the train and the only left are you, him, and dear ol’ pom-pom.

aftercares are everything to him, there’s something so touching at the fact that you are more than willing to still get up after being so spent just to make sure he’s comfortable after. you’re making this man cry, damnit! too good, too good.

never underestimate the tight grip he has on you — he’s usually the big spoon and he never hesitates to cling onto you. you’re like the safety that he finally found after running away from the things that trouble him. and every day with you is a day he always looked forward in waking up to.

𐂂

CAELUS — what the fuck is this? it’s not a dog or a cat. it’s a fucking trash panda.

ah yes, a raccoon with rabies (see: stellaron)

honestly, there’s no telling what is wrong with your boyfriend. it is… terrifying tbh. but you promised to be a supportive partner no matter how unnerving it is to see your beloved rummage through myriads of trash cans around belobog. more than once or twice, he has come up to you with a trash bag and even brought you a golden one.

you once asked what their use would be, and caelus just gave you a carefree smile while saying “we eat them to have better and stronger attacks against the enemy!” you quickly called dan heng and march to restrain him.

he texts you at the most ungodly hours. you don’t normally sleep at the same time as the other trailblazers since you took up the mantel in keeping watch of the express with pom-pom while the lot of you traversed through the heavenly galaxies of the universe. and because of that, your boyfriend just texts you until he falls asleep.

and when you are asleep in the day, before he heads out, he makes sure to tuck you in real good with a kiss for extra measure. seriously, he’s way too sweet for his own good. once or twice, you’ve caught him while you’re barely awake and he still manages to leave you flustered.

missions in different worlds means having to taste the myriad of delicacies a certain nation in a world has to offer. you both once ended up in a remote broken up island when the express made a quick stop in this one particular world that has… what do they call those again? archons? and you and caelus went ham on the dango milk (there was a distinct lack of trash cans around and everyone was safe from his addiction).

he loves you all too much, to the point where he’s attached to your hip, going wherever you go. getting all sulky when someone had your eye for a little bit longer. in that same nation in a world you stopped over, your eyes just happened to gaze a second longer at this young man with long braided blonde hair. though you were more interested in the tiny floating thing beside him, your raccoon was not able to inhale some copium and went all pouty at you.

either he ignores you, or he sends you a batch of sad pom-pom stickers in your beacon.

just wrap him in a blanket and fuck him silly, it can make him forget about the tiny things he was mad at you for. and just like dan heng, he can be very loud. so you kinda have to keep shushed up, a kiss usually does the trick however, so it shouldn’t be too hard to manage your little rowdy trailblazer.

he’s willing to take charge every now and then, he also still wants to make you feel good, after all! but he’s more of a pillow princess too, fuck him sideways and that gets him going, it makes him cry actual tears and alas, it was a blessing in your eyes to see him plead for you all the while trying to muffle his own sobs.

and after doing his head in, it is a must to spoon him after you clean him up. and maybe formulate a half-assed response when march comes knocking on your door, asking if you both fought or… let her come to an impending realization and just… make her not look at the both of you for a good week straight.

either way though, caelus is your pretty boy, always armed with witty teasing remarks and shitposts and a lot more stickers of pom-pom ready to flood your private messages with him.

10/10 -5 for the trash can obsession. ehe.

[a-b-riddle]

Gaz & his Love (Part one?)

The '141' stops as soon as they are back home. After that, they are just close friends. Simon, John, Kyle and Johnny had managed to settle down and find themselves sweet little things. All who adore their brave men and all who share different tastes

In this 'series', it's essentially bits of each of the 141 one and their kinks they have with their partners. With that being said, I don't really care if you think that Soap is submissive or Ghost is into CNC/Primal play. That's great. But in this fantasy, this is what it is. It's what I wanted to write. If you want Kyle Garrick to be a pleasure Dom and John to be a Daddy Dom. Cool. Go find other fictions that write that, or be the one to write them. I'm not going to argue about what kinks they would really have.

CW: NSFW. Edging. Use of chastity belt. Spanking. Mentions of figging. D/s dynamics. Self-deprication. Aftercare. Impact play.

4.5 k words.

Not proof-read

The downside of having a Dom with a huge dick is that he was stingy with it. Thus making him a huge dick. And when it became very apparent that you lacked any self control and restraint from touching your greedy little pussy, Kyle had found that edging you was the best form of punishment, if not just to push your limits.

He wouldn't necessarily call himself a sadist. The moment you started to cry (at least outside of the bedroom) he was quick to remedy the situation. The term brat tamer didn't sit right with either of you. You didn't like the idea of having to be tamed and Kyle liked, loved, that you could be, well, you.

But that didn't mean he didn't like setting you a little more straight. Making sure you stuck to your goals. Showed yourself the same kindess you insisted others be given. And most importantly, helping you remember that iced coffee does not count as a meal; an issue that is a reoccurring struggle.

Although Kyle did not like hurting you, he loved making you squirm. Edging, teasing. Making you cum so many times that you had to beg him to stop. Eventually he would.

You were ovulating and you tried to usually use that as an excuse to convince Kyle to let you have free reign over your orgasms. But you both knew that if he gave you an inch, you would take a yard. You would be chasing that euphoria all fucking day and you both shit you needed to get done.

He had went out on a quick errand, promising to be home at 6 and then the two of you could head out for dinner. He had gotten back earlier than expected and imagine the surprise he walked into when he came back home earlier than expected.

When he had found you rubbing yourself, legs spread without a care in the world, he practically beamed. You knew the rules and you broke them. He knew that the penance he had lined up would break you and he couldn't wait to be the one to help put you back together.

You had given a half ass apology when you first realized he was standing in the doorway of your bedroom. His eyes looking at you as if he were just waiting to eat you alive. You had expected anger or, at the least, a bit of irritation. As he stood there, saying nothing you took the initiative and offered to bend over, making his life a bit easier. You did have your moments where you did like being good for him.

But instead, he ordered you to stay on your back. Slowly walking to you. The sound of your heartbeat filling your head. He reached at the posts of the bed, pulling at the restraints that he always kept there just in case the moment arose where you needed a bit of… correcting.

He was tender as he wrapped the cuffs around your wrists and ankles. Adjusting the straps so you have very little movement. You have expected him to flip him on your belly so he could spend the next hours spanking your poor ass raw.

But given that the punishment needed to fit the punishment, you assumed it would be a night of bringing you to the brink of release only to deny you. You thought you knew what was in store.

But fuck were you wrong.

Once he had you exactly how he wanted, barely able to move, he stood. Staring only for a moment before making his way out of the bedroom.

He left you there, giving you a chance to guess how many times he would edge you until he finally felt like you had learned your lesson. And even then, the bastard still wouldn't let you come.

The sound of his approaching footsteps made your heart race.

He came back in with a box in hand. No markings or anything noteworthy. Just a plain cardboard box. With curious eyes, you practically burned a whole through it, trying to figure out what exactly could it be.

Too small to be a sybian or a fucking machine. You already had a decent sized collection of toys and paddles… Before you could keep guessing, he set in on the floor, just out of view before going to your dressers.

Smoothly, he pulled off his t-shirt leaving him only in a pair of jeans that hugged him perfectly. Kyle didn't say anything as he pulled out a Hitachi wand, some clamps, a dildo and a roll of duct tape.

Fuck. This was already going to be a long night.

Not taking his eyes off you, he made his way back on the bed pulling out something you hadn't noticed before. Your gaze zeroed in on the malicious object. A tool that Kyle knew you had a terrible familiarity with.

A simple and standard clear plastic ruler.

Dammit.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

It was more delicate than a paddle so Kyle had no qualms about using it on your pussy and with you were spread out with not even enough wiggle room to block him with your thighs. The precision made it so he could hit your clit directly. Every. Single. Time.

Couldn't get that kind of a precision with a flogger. One time when you

Immediately, he sensed your apprehension. Saw the sudden unease in your eyes. Kyle knew that you didn’t like being punished as much as you liked the release you got from it. There were some punishments that were completely off the table, personal hard limits for both you and him. But then there were some, like hitting and slapping your pussy that blurred the edges of what you could stand and what you couldn’t.

And although he loved bringing you to tears, the thing that made him get off was the fact that you wanted this as much as he did. You trusted him to not take things too far and dish out punishments that fit the infraction. Having your mouth gagged for extended periods when you smart off at him. Getting bent over his knee after being a little pain in the ass. And in this instance, torturing your pussy because you couldn’t keep your hands off her.

"You know your safe words and cues?" He asked, wanting to remind you could stop this at any time. You looked up at him, momentarily forgetting the intimidating instrument of torture he so casually held in his hand. His eyes cast over you hungrily. An absolute vision.

"Yes, Sir." He tried not to smile as he sensed the tremble in your usually steady voice. He liked you scared, hell even fighting against it. But he needed your consent. He needed to know that in that moment, you were relying on him to do what he knew what was best. You needed to let him take control and give everything to him.

"I don't think I need to remind you that during your punishments, you're not allowed to cum." He said twirling the ruler slowly, now wanting to taunt you.

Fuck.

You couldn’t look at it. It was like getting a shot. If you weren’t looking, it didn’t hurt as bad, right? "No, Sir." You swallowed, eyes staring at the ceiling.

Now that wouldn’t do. He thought. He needed your attention. Plus unless he had you blindfolded you or specified otherwise, you knew that during a scene you were to look at him when you answered him. You hissed as the piece of plastic landed on your inner thigh.

"Eyes on me." He ordered. You obeyed already shifting from his brat to his good girl. He hid his smile. It was hard when you started to get into your sub space to refrain from breaking you down too quickly. Kyle enjoyed the aftercare as much as he did taming you, but going about it too quickly wouldn’t help the lesson stick; a lesson you were in desperate need of learning.

“We’re going to start off with twenty.” You wanted to argue, but you had practically asked for it. How could you not remember to at least lock the door? You nod, too afraid to speak, your hands gripping onto the restraints to help ground you. "Count." Was his only response as the first swat came.

You hissed at the sinister slapping sound and the sting of pain that followed. "One." You breathed out taking a deep breathe in before the next one came.

"Two." Your voice rushed out. Two. You were only at two. Again. Deep breath.

smack

"Three." You squeaked. Another breath. smack. "Four!"

Kyle didn't know where he wanted to look the most.

At your face. Your eyes squinting and closing tightly at his lashing. At your tits. How your nipples had already started to pebble. Maybe he should take the ruler to those next...

But he had to keep his focus on your pussy. With each swat the clear ruler had come back with a little bit more of your juice. This was making you wet. You would never admit it and you didn't have to, but both of you knew that this turned you on. Being able to give up control, even for a moment. Having to let go was hard. But Kyle was the only person you could trust without micromanaging.

By the time you got to twenty, the tears that had pooled in your eyes had fallen. If he could have a painting commission for that very sight, he would have paid anything to have it. Instead, he had to settle on burning the image in his mind forever.

"Good girl." His praise was meant to mock you and acknowledge that he was satisfied with how you took your punishment.

"Are we not done?" You asked.

"Oh no, Love." He said picking up one of the clamps. "That was just for breaking the no-touching rule." He leaned over your body, taking a nipple in your mouth. You gasped. Your back arching into his touch. Wanting more. Needing more.

He flicked his tongue, faster and faster before suckling hard and releasing you with a pop. Before you could open your eyes, you felt the pinch from the clamp. No warning.

"Fuck!" You squirmed. Opening your eyes only to shoot daggers at Kyle, who was now straddling your waist with a smile playing on his lips.

"Onto the next one?" He asked, but you didn't entertain him with an answer. He took your other nipple in his mouth. Repeating the same motions that you yet again fell for. Trying to fight the need to arch your back. To hum as his tongue and your body worked against you.

Another pinch came. Even with the knowledge that it was coming it still hurt like an absolute bitch.

He got off of you only to crawl toward that delicate place between your thighs. You were dripping onto the bed. It took everything, every ounce of self control Kyle had to refrain from swiping his tongue up your folds. He could make a day out of eating you out until you cried and begged for mercy. He had done it before even if it took you almost 45 minutes before tapping out.

But when you saw him pick up another clip and his hand drawing closer to your exposed pussy you're first instinct was to call out yellow. He saw your recoil and stopped. His eyes met yours, searching for an answer. You both knew the ball was in your court. But it didn't feel like... enough?

"Green." You put your head back down against the pillow, waiting for the sharp sting. Instead it was just a gradual pressure. Slowly building instead of an instant pinch. Then another. And another. And another. It wasn't until you heard the harsh ripping of tape before you looked down to see what your boyfriend was doing.

He had put four clothes pins on your labia major, two on each side. The piece of tape he had just ripped with his teeth was used to hold the clamps against your leg. You didn't speak. Neither of you making eye contact as he continued to the other side until you were left fully exposed.

He sat back on his ankles, looking down and admiring your pussy as if it were artwork and he was the dedicated artist. "Mind if I take a picture for later?" He asked, his tone softening. "Something to think about when I'm on a mission." He gave a cheeky wink, but let you know in his voice that you could say no. Pictures and videos had always been a sore subject for you, but you had sent some here and there, although he had never prompted you before, even after all this time.

"Yes." You said. "But can it just not have my face?" The same request as always. You trusted Kyle, but there was always that what if possibility.

What if his phone got hacked?

What if someone got ahold of his phone or he was innocently trying to show one of his collegues a picture and then BAM, there's your pussy?

"Of course, Love." He said, pulling his phone from his back pocket before taking a few pictures. Without you asking, he turned the screen around. His fingers swiping through the photos to let you see your glistening, spread cunt. Just your cunt. Not your face. No identifying marks. "Look how pretty she is." Kyle's coo of approval made your stomach flutter.

Without any other remarks, he returned his phone back into his pocket and kneeled between your legs, resting on his own. "How many times did you come?" He asked. Although you frequently disobeyed Kyle, you never lied.

"I didn't." You shamefully admitted. "I just couldn't get there."

He hummed as if contemplating his next course of action. "Well then," he said. He grabbed a pillow near your head that you weren't using. Putting it in the space between your knees before lowering his body onto it. His mouth was hovering above your pussy. "Let's make up for that then."

The bastard had grabbed the pillow to make himself comfortable.

Fuck.

You were going to be here a while.

Eight. He had pulled eight orgasms out of you. He had switched things up between each one. Sometimes one finger before adding another and then a third. Using the dildo. But his mouth never left you and he never let up. Each one was as intense, if not more, than the last. You were crying by number four, but still hadn't begged him to stop.

But he was damned and determined to get you there.

You still hadn't by number twelve. You couldn't. Not from sheer stubbornness, but you simply couldn't. It was all too much. It was hurting at that point, but a new feeling, a heaviness consumed you. Your tongue was too heavy in your mouth. Your stomach was flipping, tightening its self into a little ball.

You weren't sure if you were hot or cold anymore, but you were certain that at any moment you were going to be sick. You were approaching number thirteen, feeling something more than just an orgasm threatening to escape you. You were going to throw up.

“K- Ky?” You stammered, forgetting your words. What was your safe word again?

“What’s your color?" He asked, pulling away from you for the first time in almost an hour.

“I-” you didn’t know. You didn’t want to tap out. You had disobeyed, this was the punishment. Kyle had never took things too far. You didn’t decide when this was done. He did. “I need a minute.”

Your head fell against the pillow. Closing your eyes, you try to breathe slowly through your nose. The wave of nausea didn't pass as your heart continued to beat so violently you head practically pulsed along with it.

While you were trying to get your shit together, fighting the sickness that started to swell inside you, Kyle began to fiddle with your restraints.

“What are you doing?” You asked, not having the strength to pull your head up to look at him.

“You’re done.” There was a finality in his voice, leaving no room for argument. “I’m calling Red.”

“What?” You asked, confused. "I-" You stuttered, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. Process what was happening. "You can't call Red for me."

“Yes I can and I did.” He said, finishing the remaining cuffs before going for the clamps on your nipples.

“But you weren’t finished.” You don't know why you were arguing, but it felt wrong for him to just stop everything.

“Who said I was?” He smirked before gently taking off the clamps. Further down he moved, settling back down between your legs before rooming the clamps he had put on your aching pussy lips. You sucked in a breath as the blood rushed back.

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.” You hadn't mean to say it out loud.

“Yeah. You’re done.” His tone annoyed.

“Please don’t be mad at me right now.” You said, throwing an arm over your eyes as if that would somehow shield you from the embarrassment. A sort of if I can't see them, they can't see me mentality. “I held out as long as I could.”

“I’m not mad that we needed to end the scene.” He explained, his tone not as annoyed as before, but still holding a certain sharpness to it. “I’m upset that you should have called yellow and didn’t.” You hissed as he removed the fourth and final clamp. “I’m guessing that you didn’t to prove something.”

Kyle was good at breaking you. It’s what you wanted. It's what he wanted. But he could only be sure to not cross the line if you drew it out for him. He didn't hold the power here, you did.

“Tapping out of a punishment makes me feel bad.” You confessed, still not daring to look at him. “It makes me feel like I bit off more than I could chew and that I’m trying to weasel my way out of a punishment and I don’t like that.”

He decided right this second wasn't the time to have this conversation. You were already starting to drop and he needed to get started on your aftercare. “Let’s get you showered off and then we’ll talk,” he offered, scooping you up from the bed before you had a chance to argue.

He ran the water on luke warm to help your temperature get back down before slowly building it up to a comfortable heat. You leaned against his chest as he ran his hands up and down your back.

Before you could really stop it, the tears came. Kyle felt your body shaking against his chest.

“Shhhh,” he soothed. “It’s alright, Love.”

"I don't know why I'm crying." You sobbed. "I just didn't want to weasel out of it."

"Using a safe word doesn’t mean you’re ’weaseling’ out of a punishment when it becomes too much,” He said, pulling you away to look at you. His fingers rubbing small circles on your arms. “It just means it just got to be too much. You needed to end the scene. End of story.”

“I know," you said, the crown of your head pushing against his chest as you looked down. The water still cascading down on you both. "But it still doesn’t feel that way.”

“Would you like me to keep punishing you?” You knew he was asking it rhetorically, but that didn't stop you from answering honestly.

“Maybe not anything with impact.” You offered. “Like lines or something.”

“I’ll think of something. Later.” He said grabbing your soap off of your little shelf and lathering you up. "Lets get you all cleaned up." Kyle's after care was just as important to him as it was to you. It helped ground him. Make him remember that everything in the bedroom was a fantasy.

You didn't think he was a monster. He wasn't cruel. It gave him an opportunity to also help build back what he had broken.

By the time he as finished rubbing you down, you were practically putty in his hands. "Finish up while I go and change the sheets." He kissed your forehead, leaving you to it.

“How you feeling?” He asked as you made your way back into the bedroom. He had already changed into a fresh pair of jeans and threw on a button up. Sometimes you hated how beautifully put together he could get almost instantly.

“Better.” You gave him a soft smile before noting his outfit.. "You're all dressed up."

"I figured we could still make dinner if you wanted to. You need to eat something." He wasn't wrong. You didn't want to get into the discussion about your only meal for the day had been an iced coffee. So you quickly got ready. You sat on the edge of the bed, putting on your socks when you noticed it again.

The box on the floor that Kyle had brought in earlier. The one he never opened.

“What’s that?” You pointed. Kyle wanted to say that the two of you could open it later, but he had been so exciting to go and pick up his order he could hardly wait.

“It's what I was going to finish the night off with," he answered with a gleam in his eye as he picked up the box, putting it on the bed. "Think of it as a surprise."

"What the fuck is that, Kyle Garrick?" You said, pulling your legs tightly to your body. As if coiling yourself into a ball would ever stop him.

"It's something to help you." That mischievous glint was back in his eye. Your heart stopped as he finally tore through the box like a kid at Christmas. Beaming with pride as he held up the sinister piece of metal.

“Kyle,” you began. “That's not a-”

“A chastity belt.” He finished. “Yes. It's my assurance.” He held up the chunk of metal, allowing it to shine in the bedroom.

"For what?" You're voice reaching a higher pitch. Kyle tried not to laugh as you practically squeaked. You always did it when you were nervous. "Making my life into the Handmaiden's Tale?"

He rolled his eyes at your over-exaggerated comparison. "To make sure you can't cum until I say so." He set the contraption down on the ibed before pulling out a small set of keys and a padlock out of the box as well.

Holy fuck. He was serious. "Since I can’t trust you when I’m not here, you’ll start wearing it when I have to go out.”

“Kyle, please.” You begged. It was no use. You had fucked up. Kyle could handle your brattiness. He loved having you over his knee, making your ass burn. But disobedience and being a little shit were two different things. He gave you a rule and you broke it. Plain and simple.

You had secretly hoped that he would just pull out the ginger root. Figging your poor little asshole until you were a crying, blubbering mess. The aftercare during such a session was so intense it almost made it worth it. Failing in comparison at the one he had just given you, although it was still wonderful.

But you had came without permission. Not only that, but you were strictly told NOT to touch yourself. A rule that you had broken time and time again.

You huff, but honestly the idea of being unable to do anything. Having to beg him…. You could already feel yourself getting wet. “Not now though, right?”

“Later” “Your punishment wasn’t finished.”

“How long would I have to wear it?” You asked, thinking maybe he’ll just

“Let’s start with five days.”

“FIVE?” You practically squeal. No way. There is absolutely no way you’ll be able to make it five days without something to give you some sort of stimulation between your thighs. Even if you had just come so many times it had quite literally made you sick. “Kyle, be reasonable.”

“This is me being reasonable.” He said, grabbing a light jacket from his wardrobe. “Do you think I got one of these last minute? Your lack of control is an issue I will be damned and determined to fix.” He retreated into the your closet with something to keep you warm. “Tell you what,” he said crossing his arms as you put it on. “Make it a week.”

“Kyle!” Your jaw fell open, ready to protest.

“Hush and let me finish.” He ordered, holding up a finger to pause any more interruptions. “One week straight. 24/7 . The belt stays on unless you need to shower or go to the bathroom. Make it a week with no complaints and I’ll give you a week where you don’t have to ask.”

Your ears had suddenly perked up. A week of being able to rub yourself absolutely raw without any repercussions.

“A week and after that I get a week where I can come anytime I want?” You clarified, not fully trusting his wording. "I can cum when you fuck me and when I masturbate. I'm allowed to masturbate?"

Your spew of words had him laughing. "You act like I'm a genie trying to trick you!"

"That's exactly what you are!" You argued, your tone now growing less appalled and more playful.

"Fine!" He sighed. "If you last a week, you can have a full week of absolute orgasmic freedom."

"Deal!" You held out your hand, waiting for the deal to be made before he could go back on his word.

As soon as the two of you had gotten home, Kyle had started the countdown. It felt weird. Definetly uncomfortable and something you weren't entirely sure you would get used to.

The next morning, Kyle was already down in the kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filling your senses as you joined him.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked, smirking over the rim of his mug already knowing the answer.

"Fucking terrible." You huffed out. You had practically tossed and turned all night. He was almost tempted to take it off, but a deal is a deal. "This thing is so uncomfortable. It's like a pair of medieval panties."

"You tapping out after one night?" He asked, already knowing he should have made a counter off to your deal instead of simply it making it a challenge for you.

"Not a chance." You smiled, shooting him the same smile he was giving you. "But I think maybe a cup of coffee could help perk me up."

You kissed him as he handed you your own mug. Humming as his hand traveled to the base of your neck, pulling you closer to him. Deepening the kiss until you were nearly breathless.

You had hoped next week's freedom would be worth it. It surely wasn’t right now as the chastity belt rubbed irritatingly against your core.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi hi hi! I’m looking for some longer hurt/comfort fics. I love angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, anything dealing with mental illness or unwellness, things like that. Preferably over 50k! Sorry if this is super specific! Doesn’t matter if it’s an AU or canon compliant. Thank you 💗

Hello. We have #angst, #hurt/comfort, #emotional hurt/comfort, and #mental health tags so check those out. Here are some 50k+ fics, at least some of which we have recommended before. Mind the tags on these!...

Sharp Objects by ElderlySardine (M)

Back in the mid-nineties, Aziraphale and Crowley had it all. They were friends, lovers, soulmates. Life was hard, but as long as they were together it didn't matter. Then in one catastrophic fight caused by Aziraphale's cruel, coercive brother Gabriel, the whole thing came crashing down. The boys parted company for good. Now it's 2021. Life has spun Crowley and Aziraphale in very different directions before throwing them back together at their lowest ebb. Can they manage to hide their history from their new friends? Can they forgive each other, and themselves? Could there possibly still be something there between them? And with Gabriel still lurking on the horizon, will they be strong enough to do anything about it?

And There Will Be Great Lamentations by TheBobblehat (M)

It has been a month since Aziraphle has become the new Archangel of Heaven, and it's worse than he can possibly imagine. Due to Gabriel's poor management while he was in charge, Azirpahle has been playing catch-up with all the paperwork that Gabriel didn't bother to do. On top of that, while Aziraphale has a shiny new title, he still can't seem to garner the respect of his fellow Angels, and now without Crowley, is feeling more lonely than ever before. Meanwhile, on Earth, Crowley isn't doing much better. Depressed, he haunts the bookshop under the lame excuse that he's "supervising" Muriel in their new position as bookseller. That old, demonic spark has long gone, and all that's left is a very depressed, very heartbroken shell of his former self.

Hold Me Until The Morning by TheLinThing (E)

Anthony Crowley is a lot of things, but mostly single and very unhappy about it. His brain is not his best friend, and that makes it hard for him to find love. Until a certain handsome blonde walks into the gaybar he frequents, and Anthony can only hope he can keep his fears in control so they won't be interfering with his plans for this angelic man.

Tiny little fractures by Wildphoenix_ofthe80s (M)

In a human AU, Aziah Fell and Anthony Crowley meet while looking for distraction on a self harm help message board. Please pay close attention to tags, they're there to protect you.

Introduction to Philosophy – an Inter-Faculty Course by Black_Bentley (E)

Everyone who participates in the Introduction to Philosophy course regrets they chose it for an "easy credit" as one of the students is taking critical thinking to an absurd level that is going nowhere (...), while the other can’t be bothered to think for himself. It would be hilarious if they weren’t so damned annoying. As for those annoying students, Crowley falls deeply in love and Aziraphale... Aziraphale is prophesied by their fellow student Anathema to break Crowley's heart Initially started as a half-silly something inspired by this post on Tumblr*, but then it got angstier and more disturbing than the first chapters would suggest. Please, mind the tags, but I promise a happy ending! *If you ever had That Student in any Philosophy course, you know what this is about.

Free by imposterssyndrome (E)

Anthony J Crowley's been living rough since he was kicked out by his parents as a kid. Somehow he's made it to the age of 40 and he's still alive, but if you asked him, he's not really sure how the hell he's managed it. It's not been pretty. Alistair Zachariah (Az) Fell runs a bookshop, but is still under the strict yoke of his parents: their eternal disappointment. 40 years old and he's desperately unhappy and hit crisis point. They meet (again?) as inpatients in an acute mental health ward. They have nothing in common. Obviously. How could they? They're practically opposites. So why are they so drawn to one another?

- Mod D

[danieyells]

hai again :3 idk if youve already done him but can you do tohmas voicelines? he is sooo interesting i, once again, want to study him

Tohma is one of the I think two characters I haven't been asked to do yet!! I think he wouldn't appreciate you studying him either, anon, but I think he'd be willing to let you studying him becuase he didn't think you could actually succeed. . .but if you did, he'd have other uses for you lol

ANYWAY VOICELINES his are. Pretty expected in their nature lol he's like ritsu in that you will never see this man sweat.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Well, hello there—I've been expecting you. May I ask for your assistance with something?"

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Seems you have some mail. There could be some helpful information in there."

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"What do you mean? I lend a sympathetic ear to those in need—that's all."

"Honestly. This academy has far more than its fair share of loose cannons, wouldn't you agree?"

"I'm no more than a servant. Frostheim is ruled by a king, you see."

"I hope you'll join us for a party some time."

"No need to be nervous. I've nothing but the noblest of intentions."

normal people don't need to say things like this. you see why i feel like it's too obvious that he's shady! he comes out the gate with this shit!

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"An orderly life and a well-managed schedule are the key to keeping one's self fit and healthy."

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"How delightful... It seems our king's peaceful slumber has yet to be disturbed."

look at how annoyed he looks lmao He'd love to slam Jin's door open and yell WAKE THE FUCK UP BITCH

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Is that everything? I'm afraid there are several matters I must attend to."

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Please excuse me. There's a small matter I must attend to. No, it's nothing serious. Of course I'm being honest—whatever do you mean?"

yeah your affinity is too low for me to think you're honest. LET US IN.

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Look at you, you're trembling. You must have had quite a frightening encounter. You poor thing."

considering what time this can happen maybe some anomaly was lurking in the darkness and scared you?

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Providing this level of assistance goes without saying. Only once you can do so without instruction can you call yourself qualified."

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"So this is where you've been idling your time away. Our captain is waiting for you."

stop trying to hide you are a servant and your king demands your services.

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Honestly. If he'd just take action, everything would be resolved instantaneously."

(In case there's any doubt, "he" is specifically referring to Jin--in Japanese he says "Dorm Leader". I wonder if this relates to the spy situation or the Institute. . .or something else entirely--)

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"This conversation never happened. Understand?"

Either he needs someone to believe he wasn't here or he told you something ~Secret~

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"An appropriate amount of sleep is essential to maintaining your physical and mental health, you know."

he's very worried about your health. . .as has been pointed out, perhaps because his own isn't stable. . . .

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Honestly. The second years have been making quite the racket this morning."

KAITO AND LUCA ARE HAVING FUN LET THEM HAVE FUN

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I tend to eat lightly at lunch time. Would you like some? Don't worry—I assure you, it's not poisoned."

WHO SAYS THAT IF IT ISN'T POISONED. IT'S YOUR FOOD WE KNOW YOU WEREN'T POISONING YOURSELF. . .PROBABLY. . .COULD BE MICRODOSING POISON TO YOURSELF FOR IMMUNITY REASONS.

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Seems you've become involved in a difficult situation. How do I know? I just happened to overhear, that's all."

WHICH DIFFICULT SITUATION. THERE ARE SEVERAL. IT FEELS LIKE THERE ARE MORE EVERY DAY.

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"It appears we're in for another full day."

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Good morning. Would you like to start the day with a cup of tea?"

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"How about a game of chess to aid with digestion? I'm a patient teacher. I can show you how to win—against opponents other than myself, of course."

how would that help with. . .don't you usually have to exercise for. . .well I'm glad he's a patient teacher even if he won't teach you to beat him lol good strategy, make you a powerful ally.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Good health is the greatest treasure. You shouldn't push yourself too hard. Good night—I'll finish up here."

He wants you to take care of yourself. . .so he'll do the hard work when it's time for you to rest. He wouldn't want something bad to happen to you because you were unwell.

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I always achieve my goals—using any means necessary. That goes without saying, don't you think?"

why restrict your means if you truly wish to fulfill your goal? Others use you for their means, so why not do the same yourself? If your ends are truly good perhaps the means aught not to matter so much.

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Please don't overexert yourself. There are many people here who need you."

that may sound like a reason to overexert yourself, but if you overdo it you won't be able to help anybody. You have to help yourself if you want to help anybody else. There's no shame in that.

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Take care not to overdo it today. You may insist you're fine—perhaps you even believe it—but I can tell at a glance that you're fatigued."

he's worried about you. Maybe it doesn't sound that way, but he wants to make sure you're well. He can tell you're wearing down before you can. He has an eye for others, that's all. Also maybe it's just me but he mentions health and wellness so much I can't help but wonder if he's had some sort of health problem in the past, or maybe Jin or someone else he knows and cares for. Also, hilarious that speaks to highly of caring for one's health when he smokes.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Inexperience is not a crime. The important thing is choosing not to remain ignorant when you don't know something."

knowledge is in fact power

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Errant and Fuji lack polish, but they've got potential. They're sincere, and that's what counts."

he really looks at them and says "those're my boys. my loud annoying sons."

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Welcome to high society. That outfit suits you well. With that poise, you'll have no trouble fitting in here."

he dressed you up and brought you to a party because he likes and trusts you and wants to be seen with you. . .get used to the high life, he'd like to keep you in it as long as possible.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Forgetting about everything I've got to do and be, just for a night every once in a while... It's not a bad feeling."

no titles, no images, no fronts, and no lies. no manipulation. no doing somebody else's job--no doing any job. Just. . .time for himself. And, presumably, someone he loves very much. I think he's earned that kind of break. Does this sound like you're about to fuck to anybody else--

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"In times of difficulty, I hope you'll turn to those around you for help. I will be there to keep you safe."

Don't be like him and take so much upon yourself. . .rely on others. Ask for help! Find your people. Support each other. Don't try and go at it alone. It's okay to be united with your community. He is one of your people too, of course. Rely on him and he will keep you from harm. He's quite sweet, isn't he?

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"That was quite the yawn. No need to apologize. Who wouldn't want to take a nap in this pleasant spring weather?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I once heard a poem that went, "In spring, one sleeps a sleep that knows no dawn." I'm sorry to inform you dawn must come eventually, Captain."

translation: 'WAKE THE FUCK UP JIN. IT'S THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY BITCH.'

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"With every advent of spring comes a wealth of gleaming new foliage and a pleasant breeze. I still find it moving each year."

reminds me of that if you ask Tohma what his hobbies are in his character story chat he says he likes being out in nature and taking walks. . .which also reminds me that Alan likes camping. I bet they used to go camping together all the time.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The blossoms of spring fall so quickly. Though beautiful, there is something almost brutal in their brevity."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Ha ha. My apologies. Your face is so flushed I couldn't help myself."

'lol you're so sweaty you look like a wet rat'

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Sweltering days like this make me sincerely grateful to be in Frostheim."

i wonder how hot it was in the vagastrom garage in the summer. probably sucked ass in there. and smelt like big sweaty dudes.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Would you care to enjoy the evening cool here with me?"

(between 8pm and 5am)

"If the heat becomes to much for you, please feel free to come visit us in Frostheim any time."

inviting them to frostheim late at night? how scandalous. . . .

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Pleasant days like this make me want to go on a trip somewhere far away."

i mean if anyone could get away with it it's definitely you. darkwick trusts you enough.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Tea enjoyed while appreciating the colors of the fall leaves has a unique charm."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The early dusks in the fall can take one by surprise. Be sure to stay alert when walking in the dark."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"There is nothing better than a book to while away the long fall nights. My eyes are rather tired though... Perhaps some exercise will be a good change of pace."

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"I thought Frostheim had gotten me used to cold weather, but I suppose this is what they mean when they say "chilled to the bone.""

my god he's admitting weakness. someone call the papers.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Even the cold weather doesn't seem to deter the second years from gallivanting about... Rather charming, isn't it? In the way barnyard animals are."

my noisy sons who play in the snow like puppies

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'll take my leave earlier this evening. The nights are getting colder, after all. And there's a small matter I'd like to look into."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Haven't you had your fill of winter scenery after frequenting Frostheim? Ha ha. You truly are a strange one."

His birthday: (May 31st)

"Thank you for putting together such a wonderful celebration for me. Oh? You've even gotten me a gift..."

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday. Perhaps it was a little presumptuous of me, but I've prepared a gift for you... Come now. There's no need to be so formal."

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year, {PC}. I expect you will help bring Frostheim to even greater heights this year."

why? are they being promoted to fuckin captain of frostheim or something now? tf?

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Oh my, is this for me? How kind of you. I very much look forward to finding out what's inside."

White Day: (March 13th)

"I ordered you these sweets from a famous confectionery in Asakusa. Hopefully they suit your tastes."

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"What I wouldn't give to knock that bastard Jin's head off... Oh come now, what's that face? I'm joking, of course."

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Trick or treat. Oh? So you prefer tricks... Interesting."

what do you think he's dressed as? Oh no you didn't have any treats for him. . .be worried about what's coming i guess

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Merry Christmas. We'll be holding a party in Frostheim later. Would you care to join us?"

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Ignoring me, are you? You've certainly got guts."

(13 affinity and above)

"If something is concerning you, perhaps I could lend an ear. There may be something I can do to help."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"I've no interest in hearing your excuses. I suppose I'll need to be stricter with you going forward—I hope you've come prepared."

much like Jin. . .he believes you'll need to be retrained. Bad servant. Time to be reminded of your place.

IT FEELS LIKE HIS ARE VERY LOW KEY. He's secretive about his interests and so very busy as Jin's servant, it feels like they don't share much about him. . .hopefully we'll get more study opportunities, anon. I wonder if this makes his intentions seem more or less clear/honest for some? It could really go either way lol. WHAT REALLY GETS ME IS THE "just one night to not have to think about who i am and what i have to do is nice" ONE TBH. . .like he really works so hard trying to play every side for the outcome he wants. he works so hard keeping frostheim in order. no real hints to what his goals are, just that he acknowledges that he will do whatever it takes to reach them. Makes you wonder, but we probably won't learn anything for a long while haha

[roguishcat]

Brunch

Summary: Another, better emotionally equipped male would probably just ask Tav out. Like on an actual proper date at a nice venue rather than sticking to their monthly meeting for brunch as a pathetic excuse for spending time with her. But that was the crux of the problem. Astarion had absolutely zero clue as to how to be in a relationship.

Humour/Friendship/Romance

Tags: AU, Modern times, Elf Astarion, No Cazador, Mature Language, Suggestive Themes, Jealous Astarion

Two-shot: Part 1 - 5k words

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

Rating: Mature (Part 2 will be rated E, so MDNI please)

A/N: This does not have a beta. So if you notice any mistakes, please let me know! 💖 Comments are always appreciated!

“Sorry, I’m late,” Tav stumbled gracelessly into the café, her cheeks flushed from the heat.

“Quite alright, darling. I have already ordered,” Astarion replied, his eyes sweeping over her in appreciation.

Tav, being herself, misjudged his look and self-consciously pulled on the front of her dress, unsuccessfully trying to get it to unstick from her clammy skin. Everyone was suffering from the heatwave, and they looked it, except Astarion, of course. He, unlike Tav, looked as cool as a freaking cucumber. Silver curls falling just so, his white shirt fresh, sleeves rolled up to bare his forearms.

“I’m just going to go and splash some water on my face, it’s boiling hot outside today. I don’t know how you can bear it. Here, hold my bag.”

She thrust her tote into his hands and walked off in the direction of the bathroom. Astarion wasted no time in rummaging through it because really, what else did she expect? If she didn’t want him to snoop, she shouldn’t have handed him her things and allowed for him to have ample time alone with said things.

Tav was quick to come back, she didn’t even bother taking her bag back from him when she sat down. Sweet, trusting thing that she was.

“How you’ve been?” she asked and reached for her glass of water.

“Good. Won the case, quite predictably. The other guy’s lawyer was completely out of his depth.”

Astarion didn’t even look up from his phone as he said that. Tav wasn’t even annoyed. He’s been like this as long as she’s known him. For all intents and purposes, he appeared to be disinterested and careless, but actually Astarion noticed much more about others than he ever let on and could even be quite sweet, on a very, very rare occasion.

She was glad that their friendship survived over the years, even if they only met up for brunch once a month. She would like to see more of him, but with how busy Astarion was, it was frankly quite a miracle that he had deemed her important enough to meet up with any regularity.

Astarion and brunch, who would have thought that he would even entertain the thought of something so mundane?

When Tav first met Astarion all those years ago, they were all dirt-poor students, roommates trying to get by. Actually, she was still eyeballs-deep in student debt, unlike Mr. Big Shot lawyer, who was doing very well for himself evidentially.  

“How about you, dearest? Anything exciting happen lately?” Astarion questioned.

Tav knew what he was alluding to and was quite prepared to lie through her teeth. Because her latest attempt at a relationship was not going well, but she would never admit it to Astarion. She didn’t need his ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk.

“Good, good.”

Astarion scoffed and rolled his eyes at her woefully inadequate attempt at lying. And to him, out of all people. He did not buy it. Because he knew exactly what Tav looked like when she was actually excited about someone.

“Thought as much. That’s why I went ahead and dumped him for you.”

“Excuse me?!”

She noticed that the phone in his hands was not actually his.

“You cheeky bugger, I can’t believe you swiped my phone and managed to unlock it! And who gave you the right to end my relationship, hm?”

“Tav, two pity fucks because for some reason you were feeling charitable do not count as a relationship. I did you a favour.”

“You’re the one to talk. You’ve slept with tons of people for much less than puppy dog eyes!” she shot back.

“If you are referring to the time Gale and I got shitfaced and got it on in the public garden, let me assure you, the stars that night were beautiful. It was a magical, unforgettable evening.”

“Sure it was,” she laughed and grabbed her phone.

She couldn’t stay mad at him for long and he knew it. Besides, he was right. She wasn’t that into her now ex. She only went out with him because he kept asking and she thought that it wouldn’t hurt to give it a go and make it work. Because, truth be told, it’s been a long, long, long while since she’s been on a date, so she thought that a nice dinner with a conventionally nice, smart, attractive person was not a bad thing for her.

Their order arrived. Full breakfast and coffee for Tav, just black coffee for Astarion. He sipped it slowly, enjoying the way Tav dug into her food with gusto.

“Mmm… this is awesome. Sure you’re not having any?”

“Food? Here? You’ve got to be kidding me,” he grimaced. Even the coffee was foul. He could only imagine what the food was like.

“Yes, I know, I know. Your taste is way to refined to dine on something so greasy and disgusting.”

“Yes, because some of us actually have class.”

“I would throw my bacon at you, but it would be a waste of good food. Consider yourself lucky that this is delicious.”

Her attention back on her food, Astarion was free to look at her at his leisure. He knew Tav hated summer, she was no good with the heat. But he quite liked seeing her all sun-kissed, new freckles dotting her skin, hair swept up to bare her beautiful neck.

Astarion would never admit it even if he was threatened with decapitation, but he liked talking to her, watching her. Tav was probably the only person he actually enjoyed spending time with nowadays, but it was not always so.

Astarion was not very fond of Tav when they first met. Actually, that was an understatement. She annoyed him constantly, especially when she was trying to be friendly and welcoming. He could not understand what her deal was. In his experience, people were never nice just for the sake of it. There were always strings attached. So, her doing the whole sweet girl-next-door act left him entirely unimpressed and irritated. If only he could afford the rent, he would not even bother with roommates. As things were, he had to put up with two.

Except over the years he noticed that her kindness was not reserved to the few that she could possibly gain something from. Tav was helpful, thoughtful and empathic towards everyone, which immediately drew people to her. He suddenly found himself a part of a friendship group which gravitated towards Tav. Them liking her was definitely the only thing they initially had in common.

Whilst Astarion enthusiastically threw himself into his studies during the day and even more enthusiastically enjoyed recreational activities with different partners after hours, he gradually came to appreciate her and was glad that Tav became something of a constant in his life. She was a clueless, naïve, sweet fool, but she was his fool. Not that she was stupid, she was quite intelligent, but rather too wide-eyed and hopeful for this world. People like that did not go far and Astarion was planning on going very far and making the most of every opportunity, no matter the cost.

At one point, sometime between cramming for his finals and helping her study for hers, Astarion toyed with the idea of sleeping with Tav. It wasn’t the first time he thought of it. Over the years, he entertained the idea in passing on several occasions with the level of enthusiasm one has when selecting a sandwich for lunch. That is, the same lukewarm interest that most of his conquests would receive. But over the years, Tav wormed her way into his heart. She was not just an annoyance, not just a roommate. They became friends, even if Tav was the one doing all the heavy lifting when it came to maintaining the said friendship. She was just always there and Astarion was very much taking her presence in his life for granted.

However, the realization that their studies and therefore time together would soon be over made the elf see Tav in a different light for the first time. And so he wondered, if she wasn’t just a roommate, just a friend… Whatever in the world could she be?

If anything, Tav was quite beautiful. Not staggeringly gorgeous, like some of his ex-lovers, but very pretty in her own way. Astarion was sure that if they had sex, it would be a fantastic experience for both of them. Especially for Tav. She would actually get an experienced lover unselfishly fulfilling her needs for once. But then he thought of something that he cared squat about when it came to others and very much when it came to her.

Tav’s feelings.

She wasn’t a prude, but she didn’t just sleep around for the sake of it. She would probably start reflecting on what it meant for their friendship, worry that it was going to screw everything up. And that was why Astarion didn’t go through with it. Although he was really tempted.

Predictably, they drifted apart after graduation. Predictably, it was his fault. He was the one who constantly cancelled plans and didn’t turn up when she invited him and others to outings. Tav went on to get her teaching certification and he continued on his path of becoming a lawyer. He worked hard and partied harder. His life was a kaleidoscope of faces he couldn’t remember, except those that he regularly spent time with for work.

It was fun, great fun, such great fun, he kept telling himself. It was exactly what he wanted. To take the big city by storm and make it his. To get away from his past, from the memory of scrimping and saving, living in borderline poverty as a child. Feeling helpless as his mother worked every waking moment to provide for his future, them constantly worrying about making ends meet. That was why he made damn sure that no one knew anything of his past. And that meant detaching himself from everyone who knew him before he became Astarion Ancunín the successful lawyer, who was now well on his way to getting a promotion and yet another pay rise.

A little under a decade passed. Astarion rarely gave Tav or any of his former friends much thought. Then, one balmy summer afternoon he saw her in the busy city street, surprisingly talking to Halsin, the environmental lawyer he went up against a few times, out of all people. Astarion felt as if someone sucker punched him. Stunned, Astarion found himself stopping abruptly, not paying attention to people bumping into him. Tav was wearing a pretty sundress that bared her delicate collarbones and shoulders, the light fabric whispering against her skin, her unbound hair framing her face. And then she laughed at something Halsin said, a genuine, full laugh, and smacked his biceps playfully. Astarion felt a wave of something that he could not quite recognise. Another, better emotionally equipped person, would recognise the feeling as longing. To Astarion it was just an unpleasant, hollow feeling that he was quite unfamiliar with.

Whatever it was, it compelled him to cross the street and start walking in her direction. Tav was just turning around when she collided with Astarion, which may or may not have been on purpose on his part.

“Ouch, sorry. I wasn’t- Astarion?”

He inwardly preened that she recognised him immediately. Clearly, he was just that unforgettable.

“Hello, darling,” he practically purred, steadying her gently.

“Wow, it’s been years! Fancy bumping into you like that, literally,” Tav chuckled, feeling quite drab next to him. “Well, I would love to catch up, but you probably have some place to be, all dressed up like that.”

Ah, that was true. He did have some place to be. He always had some important meeting, or trial, or party to go to. But that meant letting her go and that was definitely unacceptable.

“Actually, I am quite free this afternoon. How about getting some brunch?”

“Brunch? Really? Didn’t think you’d be the type, Ancunín,” she teased him a warm smile. “But sure, why not.”

He immediately regretted suggesting brunch, out of all things. But he was never very good coming up with something when put on the spot. And yes, brunch was something boring married couples and the elderly enjoyed, but there they were, walking down the busy street and into the nearest café.

And that was how it became their monthly thing. Meeting up for brunch on Sundays.

Another male, who was better versed at recognizing his own feelings, would have probably just asked Tav out by now. Like on an actual proper date at a nice venue rather than sticking to their monthly meeting as a pathetic excuse for spending time with her. But that was the crux of the problem. Astarion may have had a wealth of knowledge when it came to casual flings and friendly fucks, but he had absolutely zero clue as to how to be in a relationship.

And by gods he wanted to! It was embarrassing how much he wanted to. He wanted to wake up next to her every day, to have her move in with him, to have Tav around constantly, give her presents, see her face light up beautifully, whisper sweet nothings into her ear as they got lost in each other. You know, all that sappy crap that couples found so endearing. He wanted all that sappy crap.

But to get to that stage, he had to actually make the first move. He was kind of hoping to entice Tav into propositioning him first, but she was either incredibly dense, bless her heart, or just pretending not to notice that he was constantly flirting with her. Though perhaps it could have something to do with him parading a staggering number of lovers in front of her over the years. He admitted to himself that if tables were turned, he too would doubt that the other person’s interest was sincere.

And so Astarion decided to go for it and ask Tav out. Because he couldn’t stand the thought of her going on yet another date with someone who was not him.

He cleared his throat. “Tav?”

“Hm?” she looked up from her food, half-way done. It was truly impressive how she could devour huge amounts in no time at all.

“I have this thing that I’m supposed to attend, a charity gala dinner of sorts. Would you like to come?”

“You mean to tell me that Astarion Ancunín can’t get a date for the evening?” she teased. “I find that very hard to believe. But sure, sounds like fun,” she smiled, looking quite excited.

He deflated a little. Because whilst it was a ‘yes’ on the outing, it seemed like Tav thought he meant going together as friends. He sighed into his cup. It would have to do for now. At least he would have someone he actually wanted to talk to throughout the evening. And he was curious what Tav would choose to wear. He rather hoped it was something backless.

On Monday, Shadowheart stopped by his office, knocking on the open door to get his attention.

“Got a minute?”

“For you, dearest? Of course.”

She walked up closer to his desk, delicate heels clicking on the hardwood floor and then the sound being swallowed up by the expensive carpet.

“I heard you are bringing Tav along with you to that charity thing,” she began slowly.

Astarion scowled and took his gold rimmed glasses off. They were non-prescription, as everything about him including his eyesight was perfect, but he rather liked how sophisticated he looked when wearing them.

“And how, pray tell, do you know that?” he drawled, annoyed to have Shadowheart out of all people find out about his plans.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart gave a longsuffering sigh that was meant to show that she doubted his intelligence, “I know you don’t pay attention to anyone unless there is something to gain, but you do remember that I used to hang out with you and Tav at uni? Of course, not,” she scoffed at the blank look he gave her. “You didn’t even recognise me when I first started working here.”

Astarion vaguely remembered that there was a goth chic hanging out with Tav from time to time, but he was otherwise uninterested in anyone that he wasn’t involved with. He barely said ten words to Shadowheart back then. Her being snarky and mean should have been reason enough for them to hit it off instantly, but not so. Years later, when Shadowheart first started at the company, the silvery blonde hair, the professional-looking pencil skirts and heels, and the much softer manner with which she carried herself were polar opposite to the way she looked when they were in their early twenties.

“Get to your point,” he huffed, really not in the mood for whatever Shadowheart had to say.

“Look, I like Tav. She’s not like you and me. We are pragmatic, narcissistic, ruthless,” she accentuated her words by closing the file he was looking through sharply in his face. “Which makes us perfect at what we do. But, for some reason, Tav seems to like you well enough to keep putting up with you as a friend. But do you really think that you two are on the same page about what is going to happen once you bring her home?”

“Ah, yes. The relationship advice that I didn’t ask for from the person who is as terrible at relationships as I am. Good talk,” he opened the file again to signal that their conversation was over.

“I’m serious. You can’t just screw around with Tav. She is the type that is for keeps and shit.”

“Tsk, I see Karlach’s potty mouth is rubbing off on you,” he admonished the half-elf with a smirk.

“Perhaps in more ways than one,” Shadowheart all but purred.

“Do not need the sordid details and to save you the trouble, never will in the future.”

“Oh really?” she raised her eyebrows in surprise, flipping her long hair over her shoulder, “I thought you lived to gossip. When did you become such a bore?”

“Since I had this terrible, headache inducing environmental case thrown on my table,” Astarion rubbed his temples, trying unsuccessfully to fight back a yawn.

“Halsin?”

“Who else. As if it is possible to save that fucking lake for those damn ducks. What is it with that man and ducks?”

She chortled. “Good luck with that. Who knew that he would be so proficient at what he does, right? Wasn’t he the one who was caught streaking couple nights before his graduation? I think we were first year students at the time.”

“It was him, shouting something along the lines of being one with nature. Nice ass though.”

“Nice ass indeed,” she agreed. “But we are digressing. Don’t just sleep with Tav to have yet another notch on your bedpost. If you want to try to make it work with her, go right ahead. Gods know she’s had a crush on you long enough. But if not, well… Expect to be in for a world of hurt. Karlach will hound you and impale you with one of those new swords she bought for her weapon collection she thinks she snuck past me a couple of days ago.”

“You are living together?” Astarion actually looked up, giving her his full undivided attention.

“So it seems,” Shadowheart smiled, a proper, genuine soft smile which rarely graced her face. “Think about what I said. And don’t do anything rash.”

After she left, Astarion tried to focus on his computer screen and the papers in front of him, but his thoughts kept drifting to what Shadowheart said earlier.

Tav has had a crush on him for years. Surely not! He would be the first to know if she had feelings for him, right? And what confused him the most that instead of being elated, relieved that she wanted him, he felt a sick kind of dread.

Shadowheart was right. What was he even thinking? He was not ready for an honest-to-gods relationship! Especially with someone like Tav! Someone he cared about too much to just say ‘thanks, but no thanks’ if something went wrong.

He groaned and massaged his temples again. Why did he even ask her? He couldn’t just cancel now, could he? Although… why couldn’t he? It would be easy enough. Make up an excuse of some sort. Tav would probably forgive him. One could hope.

That same evening there was a pounding on his apartment door. Shadowheart was furious, that much he could tell just by checking the doorcam.

“Can I help you?” he opened the door and Shadowheart stormed right in.

“Cut the crap, Ancunín!” she snapped, eyes blazing and clearly ready for a confrontation. “Tav called me. Apparently, you haven’t the balls to actually admit that you like her, so you just cancelled the date!”

“It wasn’t a date,” he said pathetically, sounding like a petulant child even to his own ears.

“That’s what she said too. That it was just you two going as friends,” she mocked. “So, tell me, what set you off? Was it me telling you that she likes you? Is that it?”

“That has nothing to do with this!” he bristled, his hackles raised. “I simply decided that I don’t want to take anyone.”

“Sure you did,” she rolled her eyes at the obvious lie.

Astarion chose this moment to regroup, sensing that Shadowheart had one over him. And under no circumstances was the obstinate elf stooping so low as to admit that he was afraid of dealing with feelings. Letting out a breath, he ran his fingers through his snowy curls, letting his lips curl upwards into a smirk. It was a familiar act, comforting in a way. Playing the rake has served him well over the years.

“Besides, why would I even want Tav in that way? I could have anyone, literally anyone, just like that. I could have you right here, right on the floor, right now, if I wanted to.”

“Excuse me?” She scowled and crossed her arms over her chest, unimpressed by his insinuation.

“You heard me. In fact, I think that’s why you are really here,” he took a purposeful, predatory step towards her, taking his glasses off and giving her a slow, practiced smile. He tilted his head forward a little, letting a rogue curl fall out of place, dropping his voice to a sensual murmur. “Want me to throw you one, Sha-dow-heart?”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. In hindsight, perhaps challenging her was not one of his brightest ideas. But then again, how many of his snap decisions were?

“Do it,” she lessened the distance between them, so they were standing almost nose to nose. “I said do it. Throw me one, Astarion.”

“Excuse me? Wha- what about Karlach?” he stuttered, panicking and unsure of what to do next.

“Let’s just say we have an understanding, of sorts. So come on then. Right here, right now, on the floor.” Shadowheart trailed a delicate finger up and down his chest, bringing her other hand up to pop the top button on her shirt open.

“What do you say?” she murmured, looking up at him through her long, fluttery lashes.

Shadowheart was a picture and she knew it. There was no way any living, breathing creature would turn her down, especially when her intent was all-too-clear.

Astarion gulped. “I- I think you should go.”

“I knew it!” she jabbed him hard with a manicured finger, making the elf wince. “I knew that you were full of shit! And you know why? Because you like Tav, you clueless idiot! So do yourself a favour, stop being a fool and call her! Take her to the party, don’t take her to the party. But tell Tav how you really feel or I swear to gods, I will give her number to everyone who has been clamouring to ask her out. I have a list a mile long of people who would happily sweep her off her feet the way that she actually deserves! Your move, Ancunín.”

And with that she stormed out, slamming the door shut for good measure.

Astarion did not call Tav. Not that evening, not the day after, and not the day after that.

He hated how much of a coward he was. And Shadowheart was right, Tav deserved much more than his half-arsed attempts at asking her out.

On Friday evening, Shadowheart stopped by his office before leaving for the day and sat down on the sofa opposite his desk, crossing her shapely legs as she looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“Halsin asked Tav out, you know. And she said yes. They are meeting for drinks tonight, probably right about now.”

Astarion did not look up from the papers strewn across his desk. “Thank you for that information, not that I asked.”

“So I take it that you don’t care?”

“Not in the slightest,” he waved her question off, as if it was completely inconsequential and unimportant, lifted the cup of coffee off his table and took a sip. He definitely would have to pull an all-nighter, with the workload being absolutely impossible.

“Good, good. That’s what I thought too. Which is why I told Tav that it wasn’t slutty at all to go all the way on the first date.”

He choked on his coffee.

She quirked an eyebrow and waited a beat for her words to sink in. “And then, being a good friend, I made sure that Tav had three types of condoms in her bag. Halsin looks like a big boy, but you never know what size they might actually need.”

Astarion could not reply because he was still trying to cough up his lungs, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

“But never mind that, I’m sure you have a marvelous evening ahead of you,” Shadowheart smirked, getting up and smoothing the front of her pencil skirt out. “I, for one, am meeting up with Karlach in an hour, so have a nice weekend.” With that she walked out of his office, her heels clicking in a way that could only be described as smug.

Astarion told himself that it didn’t matter to him if she slept with Halsin. Hells, it didn’t matter if she slept with half the city! It was none of his business. He had their monthly brunches to look forward to. The next one would be in a couple of weeks, or 26 days, or 624 hours. Not that he was counting.

And that was how Astarion found himself standing across the street from the place that he heard Tav go on about. He guessed correctly, she was indeed at that exact restaurant.

Astarion scowled as he saw that she actually made a real effort for this date, looking absolutely delicious, if he said so himself.

He could have taken her there. It could be him sitting across from Tav now. Reaching out to wipe a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth with his napkin, she really was a messy pup sometimes, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Leaning forward to-

“Oh, hells no,” Astarion hissed, watching as Halsin leaned forward to whisper something in Tav’s ear, making her blush prettily.

“You deserve it, you know.”

He jumped at the familiar voice. Karlach was looking at him with a smirk, Shadowheart standing next to her tiefling.

“What are you doing here?”

“On no, Shadowheart, Astarion’s been discovered!” Karlach stage whispered. “Spying on a person on her date like some kind of creep.”

“And you two? Don’t tell me you just happened to stroll past this particular restaurant at this exact time, hm?” Astarion mocked, his back rigid as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Oh, we are nosy, alright” Karlach admitted readily with a shrug. “But we are rooting for this date to be a success. And I bet Shadowheart that you would turn up. Pay up, baby!”

Shadowheart grumbled and got her phone out, sending the money to Karlach. “You see, I had some faith in you. Should have known better.”

“Well, thank you very fucking much,” he bowed with a flourish and turned away from the two. “Now if you two excuse me, I have a date to crash.”

“What do you think you are doing? There is no way you are going there!” Shadowheart hissed, grasping his forearm and making him squirm. The woman was deceptively delicate, holding him in place easily with a vice-like grip.

“And why the hells not?” Astarion spat, finally managing to push her away with his other arm.

“Because Karlach here will throttle you if you make one step towards that restaurant.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. He survived this long by knowing to pick his battles wisely. He could perhaps take Shadowheart in a scuffle, but Karlach was a different matter entirely. Yet, he was not above being a petty bitch about it.

“Shadowheart wanted me to throw her one,” he hissed spitefully.

“Yes, she told me about that conversation you had,” Karlach grinned, completely unfazed by the hostile looks the two elves were giving each other. “Because my baby always tells me everything.”

“Baby does,” Shadowheart nodded without looking away from Astarion but squeezed Karlach’s hand, her shoulders relaxing somewhat.

“Ew, talking in third person,” he sneered. “It’s such a disgusting, coupley thing,”

“How would you know? Not exactly an expert,” Shadowheart countered quickly, making him scowl.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Karlach patted Astarion’s silver curls good-naturedly. She really did feel sorry for him, firmly believing that the elf was capable of getting his head out of his ass if given enough incentive. “Whatever happens now, happens. You missed your chance.”

“Shadowheart? Is that you?”

The three froze as they saw that Tav was walking towards them, smiling broadly.

Shit.

She saw them. The three weirdos stalking their friend whilst she was on a date. Not their proudest moment.

Tag list: @ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk

[ravel-puzzlewell]

Hi! Do you mind elaborating on what you meant by "tiefling politics" on that wotr vs bg3 post? Just curious, ignore if you want

its about the fact that bg3 has a lot of tiefling characters, somehow more than wotr, and huge theme of like hells and connections to demons\devils and somehow manages to say absolutely nothing interesting about it.

in wotr we have examination of tieflings fitting into human society, ostracization and (literal) demonization of them, where even if some of them would want to help in war against hell, they are scared (frex, group of tieflings thieves you save which you can ask to help u and they are like are u kidding me, crusaders will torch us). woljif in particular is a deconstruction of selfish chaotic neutral tielfling rogue archetype, his story both exploring how both he was pushed into being a criminal bc he had no other options, but also interplay with how he then himself tends to dismiss his own agency in being able to decide for himself and choose better, forever excusing himself with "well this is a crappy hand dealt to me", his survivalist attitude of everyone for themselves vs desire for community, how when given a smidge of stability and access to decision making in council, he tries to awkwardly, but eagerly advocate for societal improvement for all tieflings, and this is one of his most sincere moments - and gets laughed at immediately, etc etc. and speaking of community, v interesting intersection between "good" and "bad" marginalized groups of mongrels vs tieflings, with Lann being self-righteous about both his moral superiority and how mongrels "have it worse", while ignoring that mongrels - and he himself specifically - are mistreated literally bc they are mistaken for tieflings.

btw if anyone wants me to talk more about mongrels vs tieflings thing, hit me up, i think there was a interesting stuff, even if not properly dramatized

meanwhile in bg3 being tiefling largely means nothing? like the refugees would sometimes like drop a line out loud about how tieflings should stick together bc humans won't help them, but like that's it. the refugees could literally be humans running from war or blue cat ppl from avatar running from capitalism and nothing in the plot or characters would need to be changed. tieflings is just cosmetics for them, like idk its cool to have colorful NPCs with fire eyes and sexy horns. And even companions wise, you know I love Karlach and tried to romance her, but being tiefling is just looks for her, its not meaningful. It doesn't matter for her backstory, she could have been a strong human from poor background who was sold out to idk, underdark. like it sucked bc she was forced to do violence and everyne was an asshole and she couldn't see sun, but otherwise it being Blood War specifically doesn't come into play. and like. Blood War has famously huge effects on ppl with hell heritage! I'm not saying she should have been Valen Shadowbreath with entire plotline about struggling with blood war calling, but like. idk, something?

my point is that tieflings and hell has a lot of lore and like, FLAVOUR in this setting, which were not explored at all. these are just ppl with horns and generic Bad Place.

and then like. devil essentialism. bg3 has central motive of how evil races are not ontologically evil, but like, devils are. sdfghjk. apparentely mind flayers can fight actual mind control if they are V Special, but all devils/demons are evil with no exceptions. karlach was in hell for 10 years and never met a single sympathetic devil. the closest one he had mocks IS Evil when we meet her in game. and I actually liked Raphael (transition could've saved her), but there is nothing particularily interesting about him, he's also straighforwardly evil. this severely limits how interesting interactions with hell are. in wotr there is a wide range from reformed succubus to most evil sadists, with every shade in between, which allows for complex stories, like that that fucked up love between that betrayer dwarf and demoness who seduced him. she's legit evil, but she also has actual twisted affection for him, and he knows she uses him, but he was pushed too far by humans and chooses her anyway. this background story is honestly has more depth than wyll's and mizora relationship, where shes just evil and he's straighforwardly martyr. when mizora offered to have fun wink wink, i immediately knew she's gonna Evil It. and she did. and she didn't even get anything out of it! it was just staining your soul to be evil:3 like ok, but boring tbh.

and like yeah war with hell is central plot of wotr, obviously it has a lot more to say and explore about it, but like. bg3 didn't HAVE to have to include so many tieflings and have us follow their stories through all acts. it didn't have to include hell in "no race essentialism" game if it didn't want to talk about it. it chose to, and when game has big chuncks of content about smth connected by a theme, i expect it to say smth about it? anything interesting? eh.

btw, this is not to say i think wotr's writing is perfect, far from it, i can talk for ages of my problems with that game's writing, but this initial phrase was from shitposts specifically comparng things in wotr to bg3, so

[sailingshipz09]

Because @stellariders & @chicagofires are fueling this fire & I have very minimal self-control, here we fucking go.

First, let me preface this rant with the following context. This situation triggers me so much because I am a WOC in a predominantly male industry so I see myself in the struggles that Stella has been exposed to & it's simply not fucking fair. So this take will be framed from my POV...Perspective & Perception. The fact that I have to preface this rant with the above statement instead of just saying how I feel is exactly the fucking point I'm about to make 🙃

(Grab a snacky snack)

"You have to be what?"... you have to be 2x as good, work 3x as hard, to receive HALF of the recognition, praise, grace, & chances. They can fail upwards or even have a promotion fall into their hands "cough cough" whereas you have to drive yourself up the wall just to prove that you're worthy of the opportunity. Because ONE mistake can & will follow you throughout your entire career. & that constantly plays in the background, like static when it comes to Stella Kidd. & I feel like Stella knows that, which is why she came in, did her job, did it damn good, & proved that she can hang with the best of the best at 51 but it was never quite enough for some people & i wonder why. There's never been a moment where she has been above reproach or criticism. How can she be out of fear of being labeled difficult, aggressive, or hard to work with as the only "broad on truck" & let me be clear I'm using that term & phrase because thats exactly what Hermann said when she joined truck 81.... yuck! Anyway, how can she make a mistake when the few mistakes she has made have followed her. She fucked up in 7x02 why is it S10 & Casey if implying she can't come with him when Severide & squad 3 were under water because she might be to emotionally charged. (LOL excuse me but didnt you jump out of a moving firetruck when your poor Sylvie was hurt, hypocrite much?) Didn't see Brett or Violet volunteering to hop on the boat & Stella is a trained paramedic or EMT so she would have been an asset. She messed up in S8 so why did they just take away her teaching at the academy versus addressing burnout & how to prioritize her time to be able to do both, because she was & is fully capable of doing both she just needed direction & support...She made a mistake in S10 by going mia & she apologized profusely for it but it still felt like Kelly held back & almost iced her out a bit longer than necessary. But in S9 when he royally messed up she immediately took him back & told him she wasn't going to let him get away again even though it wasn't her fault, he iced her out to begin with. Oh not even touching on the fact that him icing her out in S9 absolutely fucked with her confidence in her abilities to the point she almost skipped out on the LT exam.....🙂

When her CAPTAIN no less saw her burning it on all fronts in S8.. what did he do? How did he act? Was it with compassion or care, or did he get snappy & reprimand? Did Stella argue, talk back, or provide excuses? No, instead, she took accountability for her actions & tried to do better even though she KNEW she was drowning & overwhelmed. Instead of creating a safe space for her to be like hey captain, I'm struggling prioritizing how you manage she went internal & pushed herself to the brink of self exhaustion that she could have killed herself or someone else.

So let's talk about how Gallo on the other hand came in & had his own share of potential life or death mistakes with Casey & how he was down right disrespectful to Pelham & how he was inappropriate in the attitude & tone he took with Stella when questioning her about Carver. I never saw fucking reddit think pieces on how disrespectful, cocky, arrogant or annoying he was. Nope! He got a pass & a slap on the wrist time & time again. Casey even sat down with him, bought him a beer & they talked it out. So why couldnt Stella get that same grace? Yet when Stella very respectfully told Pelham "hey hesrd you are a great ff but I'll have to see for myself" parts of this fandom erupted, calling her all types of jealousy , entitled, etc. Never once saw Stella defy Pelhams commands or undermined his leadership. I dis however see her lay her busding career down on the line for a man she barely knew but did it because it was the right thing to do.

Casey was ready to cut Gallo loose on HIS FIRST fuck up after Boden told Casey he didn't want him at 51 because he was reckless. Had it not been for Boden providing Casey with Gallos' backstory, he would have cut him loose, i believe. Funny how Boden had to tell Casey about Gallos family history but Stella took it upon herself to try & work with & get to know Carvers backstory AFTER Boden, her mentor, her father figure & CHIEF told her who her next replacement on 51 was going to be.... Funny how the most turnover truck saw in 10 years was Jimmy, Gabby (chose not to return to truck) & Otis yet Stella is 2.5-3 years in & she's had to navigate through Mason, Gallo, Gibson, while dealing with shit from Carver & Damon.... you see the picture I'm painting here!?

Correct me if I'm wrong, but outside of Carver... who else has Boden forced his officers to take on their rig when they were explicitly against it..... I'll wait. Oh, but because "he's 51 material," you have to find a way to manage his bullshit & if you rewatch S11, Carver had a lot of BS. And I know we like Carver now because they abandoned the I have a crush on my married LT storyline, but I had actually forgotten how bad he was as an EMPLOYEE!

He is hot tempered & showcased high levels of aggression & anger in the workplace. Imagine Stella getting upset & punching or throwing things. Yelling at her LT or engaging in behavior that would have landed her in jail. Did we forget that this incident in S12 is Carvers' second physical altercation with a civilian... Never thought I'd be referencing Emma Jacobs, but one incident in the file is a hiccup.. two looks like a pattern of him not being able to control his temperament. We've seen Stella drunk ONE time because she'd been transferred out & they acted like she was being biligerant (go back & watch the scene & just look at how they're looking at her). Carver, however, is allowed to get drunk thrown in jail, call his LT to bail him out & Stella's supposed to what? Take it, leave her damn job in the middle of the night just for him to not be apologetic at ALL & then tell her oh this needs to stay been us. LMAO EXCUSE ME WHAT!!!!? & it would be one thing if this was a one off but AGAIN nope later in the SAME season he didn't just get himself into a physical altercation but dragged Gallo, Mouch, & Ritter into it also because he refused to REGULATE & walk away.

But wait, there's more. Remember how he went off on his LT in the locker room because he was upset & then proceeded to get drunk & call out on one shift & NCNS on another leaving her with no time to find a decent floater... & even after Kelly explicitly told her that she would lose no respect if she cut him loose, what did she do... she went to his apartment to check on him, make sure he was alright & gave him ANOTHER chance. Matt Casey, Kelly Severide & Hermann would absolutely never & I'm not saying it's a bad thing that Stella gave him so many chances what I'm saying is i don't feel like her reasoning behind all the chances were actually her own but more so rooted in not wanting it to be a failure on her part in the eyes of Boden. & that for me is problematic as hell.

Even in S12... for Carver to get into that restaurant brawl & immediately take furlough afterwards was just such a cowardly move because here you are AGAIN leaving your LT high & fucking dry on truck during a crirical time no less with Boden being up for that promotion!

Now, moving into this Damon storyline, I'm going to reserve a majority of my thoughts until we actually get to see it play out. However, one thing in the finale that was alarming to me was Stella's conversation with Violet. I interpreted it as Stella had all intentions of cutting Damon loose. He was a floater, she owed that man no loyalty & she specifically said she was in no rush to lock anyone down permanently after the Gibson issue. However, again, it felt like Stella decided to keep him on longer because of other external factors. ie: Carver leaving her high & dry again & Kelly seemed to like him. Those to me aren't good enough reasons because she's not making decisions that honor her experience with this man rather than those around her.

The reality is that Stella could have lost her command or even worse because of that brawl. That man could have reported them to the CFD brass, called the cops, blasted them in the media & SUED the CFD. & the first thing they would have asked Stella was why she did not have control of the scene or her direct reports. They would have hung this on her & the old hags at CFD would have been like see this is why women shouldn't be officers." Blah blah blah. The repeecussions would have been so much greater for Stella & could have derailed what shes worked so hard for & the fact that Carver & Damon don't get that irks me because they should have NEVER put her in that position to begin with. You don't bring reproach on your leader especially when your leader has run through walls to protect you, bailed you out of jail, hell thrown herself on top of you to shield you from a blast, etc.

& so in conclusion my next gripe is with the writers & showrunners because I wonder if they know. I wonder if they know & they're choosing to reinforce these stereotypical experiences without effectively addressing them. I wonder if they know that they're not romanticizing it all & that its not cute or funny but infuriating that it feeds a part of this fanbase that's actually disgusting & rooted in misogyny. Or maybe they don't know & it's a mixture of unconscious bias/ ignorance.

Regardless, it's 2024 & I'm tired of it! 😫 I'm all for showing the reality & challenges that women or woc in the CFD face on a day to day but I feel like why not use it as a platform to show that just because it's embedded in the systems doesn't make it right nor does it make a requirement for Stella or any other female officer to have to endure the shit. She should be able to fucking fire or discipline Carver, Damon or whoever on HER rig without being questioned on whether or not her emotions or personal experiences are clouding her judgment because she's earned that right. She studied, she worked her ass off, she took the test, she passed & she's the LT. She shouldn't have to explain why she gave Carver or anyone certain assignments because guess what? No assignment is too big or small when lives are on the line, right? She shouldn't have to feel obligated to keep Damon on her rig just because now he's her long lost BOL that withheld the truth from her his LT & even when he decided to come clean it wasn't to her his LT. I am praying that is not the narrative they push in S13 but tbh I wouldn't be surprised because they've already set the groundwork for it. She shouldn't have to explain her reasoning or endure another year of unprofessionalism on her rig all because the patriarchy will get upset that a woman is leading/ discipling men. Reading the comments on how Stella was disciplined then in the finale really bothered me because yall can't be serious! Stella had ever right to be upset, to express that frustration & disappointment with them because at the end of the day, that was her scene, her fire fighters & her responsibility as the officer in charge.

It feels like the men on the show are allowed to have their emotions, their traumas, their demons & it be brushed over or romanticized with little to no consequence. However, that same grace is not extended to the strong female leads that have just as much trauma, pain, or demons. They vilified Gabby for hers & they try to do the same to Stella. it's not fair because if they were males, we wouldn't have the conversations of "Stella leading Grant on" "Stella putting people lives in danger" or "Stella's on a powe trip & has let her rank go to her head"

I know that was a lot & if you made it to the end of this rage rant, thank you. This has been something I've been sitting on since S11 & tbh it feels good to get it out! 🥹

[rillils]

written for round 5 @stuckybingo, square I5 - Looking after each other wordcount: 1411 pairing: Steve/Bucky additional tags: fluff, kidfic, general silliness, slice of life, dorks in love, dorks in love + their baby

Steve never believed in sunscreen, no matter how many times he got the hide scorched off of him. Used to just sit there and let the sun fry his skin, seemingly content to suffer through all the pretty stages of a sunburn, the blistering and the peeling, the stinging and the itching.

The serum just gave his stubborn ass one more excuse to walk outside in all his dumb, unprotected glory.

“You know it’ll have healed by tomorrow anyway,” he would shrug in the face of Bucky’s reasonable worry. But oh, how he’d hiss and cuss through gritted teeth, Later That Same Day, when Bucky inevitably wound up spreading cool aloe over his poor, neon-bright shoulders, the shade of them a hot raw pink that’d probably get them both sued by Mattel sooner or later.

“Fuck. Fuck. I always forget how bad it gets. How do I always forget how bad it gets.”

And it would take a herculean effort for Bucky to refrain from saying ‘I told you so’, but refrain he would; he’d simply smooth his aloe-covered fingers down to the small of Steve’s back, where the tan line made his creamy-pale asscheeks stand out like two (somewhat flabbergasted) halves of a moon, and he’d lean over to whisper-kiss a fond, “Dumbass”, against the crown of Steve’s head.

* It was fatherhood that flipped that particular switch for Steve.

Already within the first few weeks of her life, Sarah Barnes-Rogers managed a colossal feat which several people, including her very own namesake, had been fruitlessly attempting for no less than a century: knock some sense into her father.

That summer, they brought their five-month-old baby to the beach for the first time, and suddenly Steve’s baseline shifted from a glaring zero, to at least three separate bottles of sunscreen tucked in his backpack at all times – and he wielded them as dramatically and determinedly as King Arthur pulling his sword from the Stone.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Bucky teased while Steve re-applied lotion on their daughter, and then himself, for the third time in one morning, the delicate scent of coconut wrapped around them like a gentle cloud.

“Protection is important,” retorted his husband, always 101% ready to rise to the challenge, even when it was ridiculous degrees outside and the average human felt distinctly like warm ice cream oozing, slow and tragic, towards an indecorous end on a sizzle-hot curb. Sarah wriggled excitedly in his lap, her pudgy little body slippery like a newborn dolphin.

“Important for you, too? Really? I thought you were gonna heal by tomorrow anyway.”

Steve glared at him, mouth pouting with growing intensity within the neatly groomed frame of his beard.

“We lead by example,” he said petulantly, and since he couldn’t exactly stomp away – at least not with all the dramatic flair required by such indignity as Bucky was willfully subjecting him to – he settled for looking away instead, fixing the hat over Sarah’s ears to keep his hands occupied. Stubborn, mulish smartass. Bucky was sure he’d never loved him quite so ardently as he did in that moment.

He leaned between their loungers and smacked the loudest kiss on Steve’s coconut-scented cheek, not bothering (oh, not too much) to hide his smug grin. “Good.”

*

Now, all things considered, it’s no wonder that Sarah’s grown to be such a sunscreen enthusiast.

The second they hit the beach, she wants nothing better than for Papa to help her get coated in the stuff, from head to wiggly toe; and once the procedure is complete, she’ll scuttle off at lightning speed, drop to the ground, and – to Bucky’s endless horror – roll about until she’s got every bit of her greased-up self nice and caked in sand. Sand which they'll still find sprinkled in every corner, crease and crinkle of every towel, bag and piece of clothing they own for a couple of months at least, but what is parenthood if not self-sacrifice?

Before she gets to that, though, Sarah has her own self-appointed job to do.

She plucks the bottle from Steve’s hand and, as per their private ritual, manhandles him into lying on his belly, announcing with her sweet, recently tooth-gapped smile, “I’ll do your back!”

Steve always indulges her with a smile of his own, and lets her climb onto the small of his back, ready to surrender himself to Sarah’s loving, if somewhat fierce ministrations.

For once, though, she doesn’t simply smear the lotion around with her usual excitement. On the contrary, she holds the bottle up and squeezes it meticulously, her brow scrunched up in concentration as she works with slow, strangely deliberate moves.

It’s only after a minute or so that Bucky really sees what she’s trying to do; and by then, her masterpiece is all but complete. The sight of it makes his heart clench with unexpected fondness.

“Daddy! Daddy, can you take a picture? I wanna show Papa, please!”

He takes one look at her hopeful little face, at the blond curls falling over her eyes, the sun-kissed freckles already crowding the bridge of her nose so early in the summer, and there’s no way in hell he’d ever even dream of saying no.

“’Course, baby,” he says, reaching for his phone with no further ado.

“Show me what?” Steve pipes up, twisting his neck to try and peek over his shoulder. “What’re you guys doing back there?”

“Nuh-uh,” Bucky tuts, pushing Steve’s head back down to rest atop his crossed arms, “you stay put for a second, doll. Can’t ruin this shot. Alright, here we go.” The camera clicks softly, once. “Hm. Nope.” Twice. “Eh– almost.” Thrice. “Ha! There. Perfect.”

He helps Sarah down from her perch on Steve’s back, very, very careful not to smudge her precious work, then hands her the smartphone. “Go ahead, baby, show Papa what a good job you did.”

In her eagerness, Sarah all but shoves the phone right in Steve’s face, with a squeal of “Pa! Look, look!”, watching him expectantly.

It’s there, on the screen, that Steve finally gets to see it. A message just for him, spanning almost his entire back, spelling, in Sarah’s wonky six-year-old handwriting, “I LOVE YOU PA ♥”, big squiggly heart included.

Steve doesn’t breathe for three whole seconds; and when he starts again, it’s with a soft, awestruck, “Oh.”

And it might be the stark light, or the warm breeze, or the scent of ocean salt in the air, but when he props himself up on his elbows to look at their daughter, his eyes have a familiar, watery shine to them. One of his strong arms wraps around Sarah’s middle and pulls her in, and he plants a kiss on her forehead, smiling all the while. “Love you too, munchkin. It’s beautiful, thank you so much.”

“Yah!”

Satisfied with the feedback, Sarah can finally run off to fulfill her destiny as a pocket-size sand monster. Steve gazes adoringly after her, then lifts his big, gleaming puppy eyes on Bucky, looking about as lovestruck as Bucky’s ever seen him in the last ninety-five years or so.

“Buck,” he says, soft and just, just on the cusp of choked up. How anyone ever thought they could teach this guy not to wear his heart on his sleeve, Bucky’ll never understand.

“Yeah, big guy. I know. I know,” he soothes, hovering close to place a sympathetic kiss on the swell of Steve’s bicep. “Listen, I’m gonna ask a dumb question here.”

Steve blinks up at him, curious.

“Do you maybe want me to fix your back for you, so you don’t actually burn to a crisp?”

And see, the truth is, he already knows the answer. He knows it with even greater certainty when Steve sinks his face in the crook of his own elbow, half laughing, half groaning, and a hundred percent utterly defeated.

Of course not. Of course he’s gonna lie directly in the nearest sunbeam, and let himself bake there until the words are branded onto his skin, pale white on Barbie-box pink, no matter how short-lived they’ll be.

“Yep. Called it.” He gives Steve’s bicep a gentle pat-pat, knowing that in about ten hours, even that will make Steve hiss with unrepentant, self-inflicted pain - and possibly loving him just that wee bit more for this tiniest of derring-do’s. “I’ll make sure to grab some more aloe on our way home.”

[nickfowlerrr]

waiting

pairing: dark!andy barber x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. angst angst angst. mommy issues. mentions of pregnancy. allusion to thoughts of abortion (this blog is firmly pro choice btw). self loathing. everyone is just really mean to poor reader. ☹️. oh and a mention or two of mr. ransom drysale 😶 if i’m missing something important pls feel free to let me know.

words: 5.3k

notes: i’ve had this fic in my wips since july and finished since the beginning of this month, i just never posted it lol but i’m so excited to share it finally. this definitely isn’t for everyone and really was just an indulgent write but if you do read this, i hope you enjoy the angst. comments and reblogs are more than welcome and appreciated. i’d love to hear what you think. thank you for reading 🖤

The flickering light in the nearly empty emergency room was unsettling. Your mind was taunting you as you sat in the waiting area, the chair beneath you growing harder and more uncomfortable with each passing minute.

You had jinxed yourself.

Cursing your fate mere hours ago and dwelling on how horribly things were going lately, thinking it couldn’t possibly get any worse.. Of course, it could.

In all honesty, you didn’t really know why you were here. Maybe just as an excuse to try and avoid the inevitable.

Maybe it was some sick sense of guilt hanging over you..

A part of you now desperate to remember the sense of comfort you could find in her - even if only for a few moments. As hard as you’ve tried these last 24 hours, you just couldn’t seem to remember what it felt like. You started to wonder if there was really anything to remember at all. But there had to be, right? She was your mother. There had to be. And then your phone rang. You didn’t let yourself think before you told whoever was on the other end that you would be there soon. You just called an Uber and went right down. Now here you were.

Whatever it was that drove you here - fear, guilt, obligation, a need for reassurance - that maybe this all wouldn’t be so bad, it brought you to this moment. Waiting with baited breath for your name to be called, for someone to escort you to her room, to finally see the damage she had done with her refusal to help herself. You felt bad, though you knew you shouldn’t. The damage she had done to you could be seen every time you looked in the mirror.

Stare too long at your reflection and you're lost again to the darkness that has managed to follow you all your life. You felt hollow a lot of the time, but the more apt word would be numb. Because you weren’t hollow by any means. No, you were full to the brim with hurt and anger and despair. You didn’t like feeling that. So numbness was better.

Just try to forget. Don’t let your mind sit in silence for too long. It was prone to wandering. And so were you. Maybe that’s why you were in the position you were now. You could never let yourself be content. Always searching, always reaching for something more. Something that could finally make you feel. Force you to feel. You just didn’t realize that it would lead you to him. That anyone could ever make you feel as much as he did. That you could ever feel like this.

The flickering of the light was bad, but the seemingly deafening silence was worse.

Until it wasn’t.

The entrance door slid open and you vaguely heard the footfall of whoever had just entered approaching behind you while the chilling breeze from outside came rushing in with them.

The shadow loomed over you and you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The creaking of the old chair as he sat directly behind you was irksome, as was his unwanted presence. Maybe if you just pretended he wasn’t there, you wouldn’t have to deal with him right now. Maybe he’d just go away for tonight. Maybe he’d be kind enough to leave you alone.

You could have scoffed out loud at yourself.

Kindness wasn’t really his thing. Not lately. And if you’d learned anything these past six months it was that the times you most wished he’d leave you be, were the times he was sure not to.

Waiting for him to move or speak or to do something, anything at all, was even more frustrating and did nothing to help settle the anxiety that was already turning your stomach. You couldn’t take the silence a moment longer. You spoke with your back to him.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been calling you all night,” he responded without answering your question. You could hear the edge in his tone and it only served to piss you off. He had the audacity to be upset when he knew what was going on. You weren’t stupid enough to just not show up when he expected you at his place, you texted him and told him where you’d be and why. It wasn’t like you were hiding from him. At least not in a way he could prove.

“Yeah, well, I've been a little preoccupied.” you said harshly. Biting your lip as you instantly regretted your tone. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but you couldn’t deal with the repercussions you’d get for it from him right now. You were already on the verge of breaking completely.

“Sweetheart,” he leaned forward in his chair as he spoke, voice hard, getting even closer to you as if his presence wasn’t already all together suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I’m sorry, I just- I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. I’ve been waiting since I texted you. They won’t let me back there.”

Truthfully, you were more upset about the news you’d gotten yesterday than you were about the wait - you weren’t even really sure you wanted to go back there. Their ignorance of you was more helpful than you were sure they realized. You couldn't be accused of not showing up, it’s not like it was your fault they never got to you. You were still there.

You didn’t speak that aloud though, and he wouldn’t have given you any time to if you’d wanted.

He clicked his tongue and got up without saying a word and walked to the receptionist. You watched as they spoke, his charm shining through as the young woman was in complete admiration at the man before her. If only she knew the real him. If only anyone knew what he was really like. But no. He saved his true self for you and you alone.

The shrill laughter of the woman pierced your ears as Andy smiled, charming oozing off of him. You were reminded of the first time you met him. How easily you had fallen for his act, much the same way. Laughing shyly at his compliments and smiling softly at that same smirk you now dread. The one that haunts your dreams at night after he finally grants you some peace. He’d taken over everything. Every aspect of your life. All of you.

He didn’t care. Not really. Not about the situation. Not even truly about you. He could pretend all he liked, but you knew the truth, whether he accepted it or not.

He didn’t care, he just wanted people to believe he did. That’s what it felt like. And damn did they believe. You had, too. Until you got too close. Finally saw him drop the facade.

Sometimes you could convince yourself it was better this way. To really know him, to know the truth. It helped you not feel so much like a fool anymore. And the way you saw people react to him, falling for every kind smile and caring word, that helped too. You couldn’t blame yourself, he was just so damn good at hiding it.

The woman behind the desk pressed a button and the door leading further into the hospital buzzed open. Andy smiled at her again, giving her a soft ‘thank you’.

He stood at the door, looking at you while holding it open, waiting for you to get up. You stared blankly a moment, your body not wanting to move. This was stupid. Seeing her wouldn’t change anything. It’d do no good for either of you. In fact, it’d probably just send you spiraling even further. You never should have come here in the first place. Never should have answered the phone to begin with. You had bigger problems to worry about. This was too much. It was all too much. Maybe you could visit her after she got home, but you couldn’t do this, especially not right now. Your heart was starting to race and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You opened your mouth slightly, wanting to speak but no words would come out. You vaguely heard Andy call your name, but didn’t respond to it, not until he loudly cleared his throat and broke through your trance. You looked at him immediately, his annoyance clear in what used to be such kind eyes. You couldn’t find the softness or warmth you did before. Only harsh blue staring a hole through you. You forced your body to move, albeit slowly, standing up and walking toward him. When you were close enough and he was sure no one was watching, he gripped your arm tight and pulled you through the threshold of the door. You stumbled forward, gasping slightly, and tried to pull your arm away, grimacing as his grip was too tight. You looked up at him, pleading without words, eyes begging him to relent. Instead of just letting go of you, he threw your arm away from him and out of his hold. Another needless aggression.

“Stop acting so goddamn catatonic,” he snarled.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” you murmured. “I can’t do this,” you breathed as you tried to move past him, back through the door you’d just entered through.

“Now you want to leave? The second I get you back here? You’re that fucking stubborn. You won’t let me do any nice thing for you, you just like when I’m mean to you, is that it?”

“Andy, please,” you tried to calm him. “It’s not you, I just, I can’t do this, okay. I can’t see her. Please. Let’s just go, I’ll go with you, alright? Wherever you wanted to go tonight, let’s go,” you pleaded. You really couldn’t fathom having to face her. Now that you were so close, you just couldn’t do it. Hell, you were begging the man you’d been trying to keep away from to take you anywhere else, you were that desperate to avoid this reunion.

Your head was down now, staring at his solid chest as he continued to keep you blocked from the door. You felt his hand come up, moving some of your hair out of your face. His touch, deceptively gentle. He moved to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You are leaving with me, you already know that. But we’re not going anywhere until I say we are. You’re gonna be a big girl,” he said, voice dripping with condescension as he gripped your chin painfully, “and do what you came here to do. You can’t run from your fears forever.”

You felt tears welling in your eyes but you fought them back with everything you had.

I hate you I hate you I hate you.

That was all that was running through your head as you blinked away the tears threatening to spill. He didn’t deserve your tears. Neither of them did.

You backed away, lips in a tight line and eyes hard.

A nurse was passing by as you did and Andy was quick to put on a show.

He grabbed your hand gently and it took everything in you not to rip it away. He pulled you back closer and wrapped his arms around you, burying your face in his chest. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he spoke softly. You couldn’t see his face, so you didn’t know for sure, but you would have bet money he smiled at the nurse as they passed by. Another phony display of comfort.

You weren’t even sure he realized why he was doing it, or how hollow of a gesture it was. You wondered if he really was that deluded that he could think this was a sincere intimate moment between the two of you. His heavy hand was rubbing your back in an attempt to be soothing, and seemed to confirm your thoughts. He turned you in his hold, your back to his chest as he ushered you in the direction of the room number he had been given.

Your feet were only moving because he was pushing you forward. You didn’t know what room you were going to, but when Andy stopped in front of a cracked door, you figured that must be it. You swallowed hard, turning to face him again. Having to see her on your own was enough to leave you feeling sick, but with the news you got yesterday still weighing on you and Andy hovering so close, you felt nearly immobile. The more you thought about what was about to happen, the more anxious you got. You started to think about the last time you’d had to introduce your mother to the person you were seeing. It went horribly, even he agreed. And Ransom had a pretty low bar set for family as it was. Not that he had any room to judge.. Thinking about him and everything that had gone down those few years ago gave you chills even now. How the hell did you constantly end up in these convoluted, fucked up relationships. You worried it said more about you than it did any of them.

“You, you can’t go in,” you said, shaking your head as you avoided eye contact. “She’ll…it’ll be a whole thing,” you tried to explain.

“She doesn’t know about me?” he sniffed.

“I haven’t seen her in over a year,”

“You don’t call?” You cringed at his tone. Accusatory, like he always was, already putting the blame for the rift you had with your mother on you without knowing any of the details. You swallowed the renewed lump forming in your throat and took a stabilizing breath before you responded.

“It’s been a while,” you choked, your voice thick and throat tight.

“Well I can introduce myself just fine,”

You moved to block him from entering the door, earning a stern glare in response.

“I’m only going to say this once,” he seethed. “Move.”

“Let me just talk to her first,” you refused.

His jaw ticked as he stared down at you, eyes narrowed. He huffed, agitated. You thought for a second he was going to listen, but you should have known better. He took a step closer, bending down and grabbing your face in his large hands.

“You’re gonna remember this exact moment later tonight. And you’re gonna regret it.”

His voice was calm, his eyes sure - and you believed him. Your shoulders sagged as you deflated. You weren’t gonna win this one. He brushed past you and entered the room with a knock on the door as he pushed it open. His previous irritation was quickly replaced by his mask of goodheartedness.

You heard her before you saw her, the lilt of her voice paralyzing you.

Suddenly you were a kid all over again, teary eyed and broken hearted at the words that spilled from her lips as she held up clothes to you in the department store, vicious in meaning but so gentle in her delivery. If you didn’t pay attention to the words, you could convince yourself she was reassuring you instead of tearing you apart. That’s what it looked like to passersby, you were sure. The unadulterated spite and barely concealed hatred was saved for you behind closed doors. Living under her roof was your own personal hell and once you got out from under her thumb, you refused to settle back down anywhere. Never believing you were secure, wanted. You just kept searching for what you were longing for, never accepting when you’d found it, or just too scared to stay. Always wandering to the next. You couldn't stay too long or they'd grow to despise you, too.

Who would have thought you'd find yourself trapped again after all these years, all the time you spent desperate to avoid it. It was almost comical. It had to be cosmic. It was like you ran right into him. You wanted to know what you had done in your past life to have cursed yourself to such a fate in this one. How did they keep finding you and what had you done to deserve it? Another devil holding you down. You should have seen it coming. Maybe you did. Maybe it just felt so familiar, the only love you knew as a kid. Anything else you'd received felt like a joke, like you didn't deserve it. Or maybe it was even simpler than that. Maybe you were just tired of trying to outrun fate.

The people you found yourself closest to were always the wolves in sheep’s clothing. Seeming so gentle and loving from the outside, but ready to tear you apart the second they get you alone. Exposed. Vulnerable.

Maybe you did deserve this. The second you started to believe things were finally going right for you, that maybe you could finally be happy, that seeming reality was shattered for you by the very hands you thought were helping put you back together after spending so much of your life feeling absolutely broken.

You didn’t really hear the words they were exchanging as you walked into the room after a moment, taking a heavy breath. When you finally focused in, you heard the end of their brief introductions.

“There’s my daughter,” she announced as you approached. “Look at you,” she intoned, looking you up and down before landing on your face. “You’re all done up. Got all your makeup on.”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest uncomfortably as you took a breath, looking away from her. You could hear the judgment clear as day laced in her words.

“It looks pretty,” she tried to compliment when you looked to her, face solemn. “I wish I could do my makeup like that,” she said smiling.

“Thanks, mom,” you replied, taking a step further into the room. You could feel Andy’s gaze on you, watching you intently, waiting for you to make your way to him, you were sure. “...How are you?”

You felt stupid for even asking, but you didn’t really know what else to say.

“Oh, ya know,” she tried to play off. “I’m fine, honey, I’m fine,” she assured you when you looked at her with a slightly raised brow. She took a breath. “I haven’t seen you in over a year. Haven’t heard from you nearly at all, either, I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah. Sorry,” you said, feeling guilty.

“Hey, that’s life, though. Gets hard. Trust me, I know,” she said before she considered you a moment. With just the tilt of her head you knew she was about to say something provocative. “You look so different…. A lot can change in over a year, though, right?” she continued, looking over to Andy deliberately.

“Uhm. Mom, this is Andy Barber. Andy, my mother,” you introduced them only out of obligation. Manners were important to both of them. Something else they had in common.

“So he told me,” she smiled. “I’m assuming you’re… dating?” You swallowed hard as you looked at her before looking to Andy.

“Six months now,” he responded for you, walking to where you were still standing, smiling softly as he put his arm around you. It was deceptively sweet, comforting. You almost wanted to let yourself relax into him, use him as a shield against the vitrole you knew would be coming eventually.

“Six months? Wow. That must be a record for you, right?” she baited you with a laugh. You didn’t respond, just looked down to the one teal tile on the floor amongst the sea of white. You could feel her eyes on you before she realized she wouldn’t be getting a response, turning her attention to Andy instead.

“So, what do you do for work?” she prodded.

“I’m an assistant DA,” he answered her.

“A lawyer?” your mother said, shocked evident in her voice as she looked at you. “Well, better make sure this one lasts,'' she told you. “And if it does last, you’d better get a prenup,” she laughed again as she nodded to Andy.

You stiffened as Andy did beside you and bit your cheek, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. She noticed your face and her scoff made your stomach turn. You looked up to see her rolling her eyes as she looked away like she was exhausted by you already. “You just always have to have an attitude don’t you?” she said almost under her breath, frustrated. “Why are you so sensitive? You’re an adult. Stop taking things so personally. Lighten up, grow some skin. I’m trying to have a conversation and it's like everything I say you have an issue with.

God, y/n, ya know, why are you even here? To make me feel worse? Remind me how much of a fuck up mother I am?” You knew it was coming. It always did. And yet you were still jostled by her flip. You felt Andy’s hand squeeze your waist as you unconsciously backed further into him, pressing closer to his side like a frightened puppy trying to hide yourself.

“Mom, I didn’t say anyt-”

“Why are you here?” she enunciated each word loudly, interrupting and talking over you.

“They called when they brought you in. I’m your emergency contact, remember?”

“Remember? Don’t talk to me like I’m senile.” she nearly sneered.

You bite your tongue and cursed yourself for feeling tears well up already.

“Yeah, that’s great. Bring out the waterworks. Put on a show, make me the bad guy. It’s always me, right? It’s always my fault,” she continued. “What do you have to cry for? I’m the one who was abandoned by you. You show up after over a year of rejecting my calls and one word text responses, what to make yourself feel better? Where were you when I needed you, huh?” she questioned, words like knives in your heart. You felt so small under her angry gaze. You felt like the worst person in the world. You felt like a child. A weak, scared, sorry child.

“Andy was it?” she asked, pulling her eyes from you as she turned them to Andy.

“Mr. Barber is fine,” he corrected, voice hard and defensive.

“Well, Mr. Barber,” she mimicked, “I’m sorry you have to see this, but let me just warn you. If I know my daughter, I know she's not much for sticking around. She’ll run as soon as she gets the chance. She’s like her father that way. The second she gets tired of you. The second you can’t offer her anything anymore,” the bitterness was dripping from her every word, “she’ll be gone.”

You gulped down the lump in your throat and squeezed your own hand to try and keep yourself calm.

“If you don’t believe me, just ask her ex. He’ll tell you the same thing,” she said.

“What are you talking about?” you said dumbfounded and exasperated.

“What do you think I’m talking about? Ransom,” she said as if it was obvious. The mention of his name had you frozen. “The second you found out he was written out of that will, you left him like it was nothing.”

“Are you serious? You’re gonna bring that up right now? He went to prison for murder, mom!” you raged. “And you know what, my relationships are none of your business,” you seethed.

“You slept with him for his money, you and I both know it. Just because it turned into something more after doesn’t change the way it started.”

“That’s not true,” you whispered angrily.

“I don’t believe you,” she told you, voice eerily level as tears renewed in your eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” you asked, voice breaking as Andy pulled you behind him.

“That’s enough. It’s clear this was a bad idea,” he stated, making you want to scream. As if you hadn’t told him as much before he forced you in here. You turned to the side as you held your head in your hands, trying to regain your composure.

“Oh my god,” your mother breathed as she took in your side profile for the first time. Her voice was full of worry and your head shot over to her immediately in response to your name being spoken in near reprimand. “Are...are you pregnant?” she asked out of nowhere.

“What?” you breathed.

“Your stomach looks bigger. Like there’s a bump there. It’s been a year but I know what you look like when you put on weight,” she started, eyes locked on your tummy. “And I know what baby weight looks like.. Yo-you’re pregnant aren’t you?” she asked again. She sounded..scared.

You were looking at her, confounded as Andy turned to you, looking much the same. He eyed you up and down before you felt his gaze settle on your stomach. Your hands came up to your lower belly self consciously.. Or maybe it was protectively.

You didn’t know how she knew. You’d only just found out yourself. You didn’t think you were showing noticeably in the slightest. Your periods were always irregular. Skipping cycles wasn’t anything you would think twice about. You were on the pill. You thought maybe you were just more bloated lately. Gaining weight wasn’t anything new for you, either. You didn’t piece any of it together right away. You had no reason to. You were protected. Or so you thought. And you had zero plans of informing Andy of the news. Not yet. You were still trying to process it. You couldn’t be a mother. You couldn’t become your mother. But what were you supposed to do? You could deny it easily enough, put the conversation off, but you knew Andy wouldn’t let it go. He’d want a test to know for sure either way. He’d find out the truth. You were planning to make your appointment next week to find out how far along you were. See if you had any options left.

“Are you pregnant?” Andy asked softly, walking closer to you.

Your mouth was dry. You didn’t want to answer him, but you knew you’d have to. You licked your lips before you spoke.

“I don’t- I- I think.. maybe,” you breathed, words fumbling while you were avoiding eye contact with both of them.

Your attention was caught by your mother lamenting your nickname, pained and sorrowful. “Don’t do this to yourself,” she pleaded. “You’re so young, you’re not ready to be a mother. You-”

“All due respect,” Andy snapped, “- which is near none,” he added, sneering as he turned on your mother while you watched in sudden shock, mouth slightly agape while your mind spun, “you have absolutely no say here. In fact, it’s none of your business. This is a private matter between your daughter and I - no one else. But if you really want to worry about anyone’s ability to mother, I’d focus on yourself first. You’ve done a real bang up job so far,” he said sarcastically.

“Andy,” you reproached, walking quietly to him, wanting to calm things before they got worse.

“We’re leaving,” he said to you while sending daggers to your mother who looked at you with tears in her eyes, “You never should have come here.”

You looked at your mom, discontent clear on your face.

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” she said, voice cracking. You had to look away before your own tears started to fall, lip wobbling. You weren’t sure what she was apologizing for, but it was the first time you ever heard her say those words sincerely. And it broke your heart. Andy grabbed your hand in his as he pulled you to the door and out of the room. The second you were past the door, you immediately broke down in tears. Everything hitting you all at once. Suddenly you were gasping for air as you felt like your legs were about to give out beneath you. Andy’s arms wrapped around you, turning you to pull you into his chest, his strength keeping you up as you leaned fully into him. One hand was holding your head while the other was wrapped around you, rubbing your back as you cried. He placed a kiss atop your head while he hushed you quietly, both of you standing in the empty hospital hallway.

You caught your breath after a minute and let yourself believe he was holding you so gently because he really cared. Because he was sorry for not listening to you. Because he wanted you to feel better, to comfort you. Whether it was true or not, it helped. Slowly you pulled away from him, and his hand came up to brush the tears off your puffy cheeks.

“How far along are you?”

“I really don’t know,” you said honestly. “If I had to guess, at least ten weeks,”

“How long have you known?” he asked quietly, thumb still stroking your cheek.

You looked at him doe eyed, lips set in a small pout. You opened your mouth to speak before he cut you off,

“I’m gonna tell you right now, don’t lie to me,” he warned, an ocean storm brewing in his normally brilliant blue eyes as he forced you to look him in the eye.

“Since yesterday,” you murmured. “I swear.”

He nodded slightly then took you by surprise, pulling you closer for a slow and deep kiss. Your brows were furrowed as he pulled away to allow you both a breath.

“You should have told me right when you found out,” he reproached.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. “I was still trying to wrap my head around it. I wasn’t sure how you’d react. I don’t know how this even happened,” you confessed. But Andy knew.

He’d been switching out your birth control for nearly four months now and had long since stopped wearing condoms with you, though that you were aware of. He didn’t think it was important to tell you about the swap he’d made with your pills, so he decided to keep that to himself. No need to get you worked up again. Especially now that he knew you finally were pregnant. He’d have to figure out a way to keep you as stress free as possible. Keeping you home would be easy enough, he basically had you living with him already, but he’d have to make that change slowly, you would surely resist his attempts to keep you at home if he made it too obvious.

He found your mother’s warning funny, though. As if you’d ever be able to run from him. You’d tried, but he was always two steps ahead. You didn’t go anywhere without him knowing, whether you knew that or not. You were his now. You had been since the day he first laid eyes on you. You weren’t going anywhere. As he thought about the changes he’d have to make now that you were pregnant, he remembered the punishment he’d given you a few nights ago. It reminded him you had another one coming tonight, too. He’d have to go about them differently now, though. As much as he loved discipling you, his tactics would have to change, he’d need to be even more careful with you. And more lenient, he realized. He loved your responses to spankings, but he was looking forward to changing your punishments up with edging or overstimulation now instead. Either way, he was sure to make you cry. Make sure you’d learn your lessons. And he’d get started tonight. You brought out the darkness in him, but you brought the softness out, too. He wanted to remind you how good things could be. There was just one more thing bugging him at the moment that he’d have to let out.

“Come on,” he instructed. “I parked in the garage.”

You walked with him to the entrance before he led the way to his car.

He opened the door for you and helped you in before he went around and got in himself. He sighed heavily as you sat in silence for a moment before he turned to you.

“Who the fuck is Ransom?”

[faejilly]

so I wanted to riff off of @alexanderlightweight's response to the Alec/Bow/Quiver/summoning meta post by @ralfstrashcan that I reblogged recently, but also I didn't want it to get lost in an increasingly long reblog chain, so I'm gonna quote and start over here:

100%

my headcanon is that it's alec's shadowhunter ability like clary's rune ability and apparently the herondale ghost talking ability(??)

if we really want to take it a step further. we can even talk about how izzy has specially made weapons that have to be super tricky to use which means weapons ability

but that's just my brain. which made that one scene where alec goes back to the institute make no sense, to retrieve his bow because literally every other time he doesn't need to (they just wanted to give clace the training moment and set up the whole hodge thing)

1: I also think Alec's 'have to go get a bow' is just an excuse, but he's using it to a) get away from Jace behaving incomprehensibly & Clary being So Very Clary, AND b) to cover their tracks now that he's realized just HOW comprehensively his siblings are going to go off the rails in the next day or so. (And on a narrative level I really like the scene with Hodge so I'm glad it exists. 😅)

2: I headcanon that part of the reason Alec (& to a lesser extent but still noticeably so, Izzy) can get away with pushing so many Clave/Nephilim boundaries without actually getting deruned despite their parents being on Thin Fucking Ice™️ with well, everyone, is that they have inherited both Family Traits and that's valuable enough (especially after all the losses during and after the Uprising) that the Clave really really doesn't want to get rid of them.

(Similarly, there's some hope that Jace and/or his expected children might show signs of the Wayland traits coming to life again as they've died out otherwise. Obviously that goes a bit sideways once they finally pick up on How Very Herondale he is, but luckily he's Herondale so that's still a benefit.)

Truebloods: very literally truth-tellers. Variations on their skills include the ability to recognize lies, off the charts charisma when they are invoking what they believe to be the truth, and an ability to make the most awkward truths palatable to audiences that normally wouldn't want to engage with them. They were traditionally the guardians of the Soul Sword whenever it left the City of Bones, but that honor faded away over the years as the Council with the Consul/Inquisitor as heads centralized power in their own hands.

Izzy can be seen doing this during her trial, because even when her personal behavior has included digs & microaggressions against Downworlders, she believes that they as a people can and should do better and her speech clearly works in-universe because of that resonance of truth.

(She even occasionally manages the sincere/heart-felt clunky dialogue that works despite being clunky that Alec's so good at, and poor Jace doesn't, despite his best attempts, because for all he's a Lightwood in every other way that matters, he's not actually part Trueblood.)

Maryse has several hints of Alec's same blunt (inexplicably successful) sincerity once she lets herself stop hiding behind Politics & Expectations. When she's upset with Izzy about spending time with the Seelie in s1, she has a line that always felt very self-recriminating to me; (I'm paraphrasing here since I'm too lazy to pull up the script or episode): 'never trust a people who can't lie, they'll find more imaginative ways to stab you in the back'. She knows this about the Seelie because it's what she's always done.

(Alec's shock at his parents being in the Circle can't be because it's against their politics as they've never really tried to behave better. Perhaps it's because it never occurred to him that they could lie that well. Especially his mother, since he has a much better relationship with her than Robert.)

This means that Maryse buying into Valentine's rhetoric was invaluable to him, because she could back him up and help make sure people would fall for it, because she was a Trueblood. Equally, when she turns, that is part of why the Clave lets them back in. Her vow to now toe the party line is completely believable, because she promised on her children... who are also Truebloods.

This also means that their bloodline is one that would not always be popular since they can call out power when it's behaving badly; thus the apparent decline of Trueblood standing in the way that the show refuses to ever really acknowledge it in the present day timeline, and instead talks about Lightwood honor.

(But countered in the way The Clave doesn't move directly against Alec Lightwood, HotI, despite gay and living with a Downworlder, despite how much clear disdain he has for so many of them and their policies. They aren't willing to risk what a Trueblood could do if pushed into active rebellion.)

Lightwoods have a much more palatable martial gift. Their affinity for the adamas in their weapons means they can bond with them, sometimes strongly enough to summon them, manipulate them in the field, adapt them and rune them and enhance them in ways most Shadowhunters can't. (We never see anyone doing anything resembling Alec runing his arrows in s1 after all. What if most of them can't?)

As shown by Izzy in s3 as Weapon's Master, in Alec's ability to beat his parabatai (the supposed best fighter of a generation) when they're sparring with weapons even if he loses once they get to hand-to-hand, Izzy's unique skill with a whip, Alec fighting with everything he gets his hands on, from seraph blades to his signature bow to actual arrows for stabbing. (As seen in everything in ralf's original meta post and delightful fic.)

There's even something in the fact that Izzy was interested in joining the Iron Sisters (which while prestigious also involves even more sacrifice from a people who have to sacrifice a lot already and are thus vital enough that they let Cleophas join despite her past because they needed her) and yet Izzy stayed active duty -- and presumably eventually marriageable.

(I frequently wonder if part of why she chose to make herself as unpalatable as possible for a traditional/political match was a lingering bit of awareness that that was what The Clave most wanted from her, regardless of who she wanted to be.)

ALSO! There has to be a reason that Robert Lightwood was valuable enough to keep even when they got rid of Maryse, a reason the show reiterates Lightwood honor over and over again, a reason he & Maryse got to be co-Heads of an Institute (even if the general fanon that they were more constrained than most Proper Heads does fit what little we see), and we never actually see Robert fighting or sparring, but we are repeatedly told that his children are the best of the best.

But it's seldom mentioned as a compliment, is it? More like an expectation. They're Lightwoods, they have to be the best with their weapons, or what is the point of them? It's just another weight added to Alec's so-called crown, another expectation Izzy has to both flaunt and fight against every day so she can have at least a little bit of herself left to hold onto.

(The one thing Jace is good at, the one bit of the monster his father built that helps; he's as good with a blade as a Lightwood. It's the only thing that gives him hope for redemption, the only thing that gives him enough conviction to ask Alec to be his parabatai and protect his soul from himself.)

[loosingmoreletters]

For the ask game Ghostbat, 37

I barely go here anymore babe, you’ll have to excuse the characterizations.

meeting in prison au

Bruce Wayne’s parents die. He copes with it and everything else that happens to him in the next decade as well as one would expect for the richest orphan in the world, pushed around by relatives with sharp teeth and greedy hands. Maybe, in some other world, there’d be someone who cares, but in this one, the Wayne and Kane names are not spoken kindly. Any cousins he has, are much older, distant, and more likely to tell Bruce to stay quiet and out of sight.

Bruce is pulled from school after the first fight he gets into over his parents’ death. It’s just until he’s learned to manage his grief a little better, until he’s fit for society again. He never returns and it suits him just fine. He occupies his days with self-studies in whatever matter interests him and remains unseen as is demanded.

The first real decision Bruce Wayne, all of nineteen, makes about his life, is taking a gun into his hand and shoot the man who ruined his life three times in the chest.

He does so in broad daylight, is caught on the spot, though the police doesn’t have to tackle him down, he’d already on the ground, heaving, throwing up over the gun. Erratic, the report will say later, not a practiced shooter. He isn’t, he’s fired the handgun he nicked from his uncle a hundred times in the forest behind the manor, practiced until perfection, for three shots that will have his parents’ murderer most certainly die a slow and agonizing death.

Poor Bruce Wayne, a fragile child presented only at the right occasions like expensive jewelry.

The sentence they give him is barely a slap on the wrist. After all, so proclaim the papers, what good son wouldn’t avenge their parents?

It should matter, Bruce thinks somewhere, that he perpetuated the same violence as the one that ruined him, ruins him still. It doesn’t matter to anyone, it just feels hollow.

It’s Gotham, they decide on a year in Arkham.

His mental health has never been great, his aunt proclaims in some interview, crying crocodile tears. We had to pull him from school because of it! We tried our best, but poor Bruce, he was hurting so much.

Bruce has no doubt that by the time he is released from Arkham, all of his assets will be seized. All the papers he had to sign to even get admitted, he knows exactly what freedoms he gave up. Bruce Wayne will no longer be of worth to anyone, and that suits him just fine.

It’s fine anyway, there’s no need to live beyond this.

The first month is surprisingly quiet for all that he now resides in Arkham. He supposes the doctors are still careful with him, paid to keep him docile and quiet. They’re probably happy that this criminally insane inmate never throws a fuss, isn’t anything like the freaks they keep downstairs. After all, Bruce Wayne really only got revenge. The motif is clear, his trigger as well. He’s a predictable patient, and the diagnosis they write on their little clipboards amount to nothing more than severe depression. The doses of depressants he’s prescribed is too high, and since nobody expects Bruce to act out, nobody checks if he actually takes them.

More often than not, his therapists end up telling Bruce how happy they are to speak to him instead of anyone downstairs. Bruce’s monotone behavior is well rewarded after the six-month mark, he gets a cellmate.

Anton smiles, flirts, charms, and never speaks of what sentence brought him here.

Bruce isn’t stupid, he figures that whatever it is, it isn’t what he’s actually here for. Anton is amusing in his own way, though Bruce supposes his own reactions to Anton’s flirting are the true entertainment to the other. It’s what you get when you raise yourself in isolation. Anton cracks a joke about attraction and Bruce replies with formula for dopamine.

“You’re smarter than you look,” Anton says one night, out of the blue.

“How’d you know?” Bruce asks in return, his eyes never straying from the page of the book he’s reading, thankful for the moonlight. He can read and keep up a conversation at a same time just fine. Could probably add a third task if he had anything else to occupy his hands with that wasn’t turning a page. Maybe he should ask the doctors to add some creative classes. Cooking would be fun, though he supposes the knives would be a challenge. It’s sad, he misses chemistry.

“The way you talk,” Anton answers.

Bruce doesn’t think there’s anything special about the way he talks. He’s blunt to a fault.

Why did you kill him?

He murdered my parents.

Did you plan this?

Obviously.

Are you taking this seriously at all, Mr. Wayne?

No, sir.

“I don’t say much.”

Nobody wants to listen to poor, orphan Bruce Wayne after all.

“And yet, if I were to ask you how to get to the bottom levels undetected, I’m sure you could tell me, probably open our door as well without anyone noticing.”

Bruce does look away from his page now and finds Anton staring at him with interest, a sincerity about his own character that Bruce hasn’t expected. Anton, Bruce thinks, beneath all his smiles, is angry in a way Bruce doesn’t have the energy or patience for anymore.

Don’t lose your heart, Master Wayne, Alfred said before he returned to England. Perhaps love would’ve suited Bruce better than endless anger.

“Is that what you’re actually here for?” Bruce asks instead.

“Mhm.” Anton leans back on his bed. He brags about his morning routine outside of Arkham, but he looks plenty pretty to Bruce even without. “My teacher sent me here with a little task. Said Gotham is the best place to practice.”

It’s Gotham, Bruce doesn’t really want to imagine what kind of task Anton has been sent here for.

“Do you want my help?” It’s easier to simply cut the chase.

“Maybe.” Anton tilts his head. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Bruce shrugs. He’s got nowhere better to be, really. “Are you offering a place to stay after?”

Anton grins and it’s more honest than any of his previous flirting, though Bruce supposes that wasn’t entirely for show either. “Oh, I’ve got a whole damn world for a brain like yours. Are you in?”

He holds out his hand.

[freeuselandonorris]

Fic ask game: how do you approach writing the balance between the character’s internal thoughts/feelings vs the physical sensations they’re experiencing? I feel like in my own writing I’m always yoyoing between the two and it’s so hard to make it balanced/immersive. You always manage to convey character headspaces so strongly and I’m wondering about the process for that

ahh thank you anon, that’s such a lovely compliment!

i actually pretty rarely directly describe thoughts and feelings. generally it’s quite a clunky way of pulling the reader into the narrative, because it can just end up as reportage, where it just ends up as a kind of list of “lando felt x. oscar did y. lando felt z.” - obviously i’m vastly oversimplifying here but pace-wise, you see how there’s nothing actually moving the narrative on? where i do use it, it’s where a character IS stuck in their own head, usually on their own, and we’re not meant to be seeing the story move on yet.

so for instance, in the first section of it’s just self-defence until you’re building a weapon (sorry, AO3 is down again so i can’t link, i’m using my gdocs here!) you have a lot of lando’s thoughts and feelings because he’s in a mental spiral, and he’s not talking to anyone else about it yet:

It’s there, the feeling, as he drives into parc fermé, huge and heavy and bad. He breathes, in-hold-out-hold, moves his thumbs through the familiar pattern of button-pressing and menu-scrolling to put the car into neutral. For a minute he thinks he might burst into frustrated tears, in which case he’s gonna have to find an excuse to stay in the car a bit longer before someone sticks a camera in his face – but then the anger and adrenaline drain abruptly from his body like pulling a plug out of a sink full of water, and he wants very badly to see Oscar.

but as soon as oscar makes an appearance in the next paragraph (i.e. driving into parc ferme next to him), we’re into the bodily: lando’s out of the car, he feels like someone’s dumping freezing water down his back, his chest’s aching.

this ‘bodily’ description — describing the physical sensations rather than just reporting on what’s caused them — will instantly make your writing more immersive. it’s a good twofer because you can describe actions at the same time (i do massively overuse adverbs!) but also it’s just a lot easier for a reader’s brain to unconsciously ‘feel’ the clench of an anxious stomach or that low-belly kick of lust when you see someone you really wanna fuck, rather than you telling them “he really wanted to fuck oscar” and the reader having to work out for themselves how that feels, ygm?

so if you contrast that quote above ^ with this one from some poor sucker at the bottom of the lake:

There’s a sort of tussle, afterwards. Lando drags him down and Oscar allows himself to be dragged, or maybe it’s the other way around. Either way, Lando ends up pinned, Oscar’s soaked gym shirt in his mouth, Oscar’s hand shoved inside his shorts. When he comes, an uncontrollable noise rips itself from his throat, and he bites down to muffle it. In the rush of sensation, he barely even notices he’s doing it.

we’re getting a lot about both of them with no direct description of what either of them are thinking until right until the end. i use quite violent verbs — dragged, pinned, shoved, rips, uncontrollable — and they do the job for me, without me having to spell it out. we can tell how they’re feeling, that they’re both half-feral and not really thinking straight, that they’re pissed off with each other as much as they want each other, the frustration and the way they can’t leave each other alone.

something else i like doing occasionally is to use a ‘thought metaphor’ (a term i have just invented, i’m sure there’s a proper technical term for it):

Oscar nods, dry-mouthed, watching the way Lando’s face sags with relief. He tips forward until he’s braced over Oscar’s body and moves his hips in a slow, muscular roll. It makes Oscar think of nature documentaries: one creature, pinned down by another.

so at the end there i could have just said “oscar feels pinned, like something from a nature documentary” and it would’ve worked pretty well, but by having him think of something adjacent (animalistic sex -> nature documentary, and then looping back round to -> THEREFORE they’re both creatures) you can kind of do something a bit more exciting that allows the reader to go OH okay, instead of just telling them. if that makes sense??

okay this is already far too long so i’ll stop now lmao BUT i hope at least something in here was useful??

ama about my fics!

[robininthelabyrinth]

A prompt: I'm still in love with Second madam nie. Anything from her POV, maybe including her favourite person, nie mingjue?

ao3

"Send Huaisang to my office. Immediately."

Nie Mingjue’s order went out, and no sooner out than fulfilled, even if Nie Huaisang did show up looking disgruntled and a little disheveled, as if someone strong had hoisted him up over his protests, thrown him over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and whisked him away when he'd much rather be in his room reading or in a shop buying something. This was precisely what had happened, so Nie Huaisang felt entirely justified, even if his brother frowned ominously at his not-befitting-an-heir-of-a-Great-Sect appearance. 

Still, his brother refrained from scolding (for once) and merely said, "Close the door."

Nie Huaisang did, his interest reluctantly piqued. 

"Something political that I'm not supposed to know about?" he asked. "Or...?"

"Or," Nie Mingjue confirmed, and produced a letter. "Your mother wrote to you."

Nie Huaisang couldn't stop himself from wrinkling his nose.

Nie Mingjue noticed. "What's the matter? You don't want to hear from Second Mother?"

Actually, no.

Neither Nie Huaisang nor his mother had ever managed to properly explain to the bull-headed Nie Mingjue that certain types of people simply couldn't abide sharing space with another of their own kind - yes, even their own children, yes, even from a young age - and as a result he worked tirelessly to maintain his little brother's relationship with his long-absent, presumed-dead-by-most-people mother over both their protests. His persistence and earnest insistence that familial relationships were important was a little cute, actually, but it did mean that it was awfully hard to skive off without actually engaging. 

Of course, the same was true on his mother's side. Nie Huaisang had to suppress a snigger at the thought of his brother hunting down and officiously scolding a fox in some forest somewhere with instructions to write more often.

"Are you going to read it?" Nie Mingjue prompted, and the expression on his face suggested that the answer to the question was required to be 'yes' and also 'right now, in this room, while being watched’. Nie Mingjue would never be so rude as to actually interfere with or eavesdrop on Nie Huaisang's correspondence, but previous experience had already shown him that listening to Nie Huaisang's claims of wanting to read it later or in private would only result in the letter not being read at all, whether due to negligence or it "accidentally" being destroyed in a fire or somesuch.

Damn Nie Huaisang's former self for having used up all the good excuses too early!

"Oh, all right," Nie Huaisang grumbled, and settled himself down to read. At least he could be fairly sure that the content would be about a subject of his liking - after all, the only thing Nie Huaisang had in common with his mother, other than a shared bloodline, was a fondness for his older brother.

-

Hey, pigface -

(Rude as always, Mother.)

I would say that I hope you're doing well, but I don't actually care (it's mutual!) and I'm sure that if there was anything wrong with you, my darling pork bun would have already conveyed it to me. (Almost certainly true.) He'd be ever so distressed about it, the poor tasty little lamb, so you'd better keep yourself in one piece for his sake, you hear me? (Like Nie Huaisang was going to get anywhere near danger anyway. She wasn't wrong about how much Nie Mingjue would worry, though, so Nie Huaisang reluctantly agreed with the sentiment - he'd be able to point to that when his brother ever so politely inquired as to what his mother had written. See, a positive interaction! They were capable of it! Mostly!)

As for your delicious older brother...(She'd better not say anything about Nie Huaisang stopping him from getting into danger, because that was impossible; Nie Mingjue and danger were practically best friends) well, I will only say, if he dies, you are to avenge him.

(Obviously.)

Now, I'm equally certain that you don't give one fig for my own state of health (completely correct), so I won't bore you with that. I will say that your cousin in Dongying is doing very well (that was good, Nie Huaisang had liked him, though of course he'd liked the fact that the man lived all the way away in Dongying even better) and his musically inclined partner sends you in particular his regards. (He'd probably mispronounced it.) I'll spare you how he mangled it (called it!) and tell you instead that he is still proficient in that song you taught him (aww, how cute). I enclose some little tricks that you might find useful (please no) assuming you ever endeavor to be useful (never!)  

Now, onto the most important subject (about time) - how is my tender little zongzi doing? (What a stupid question, she literally saw da-ge when she gave him this message.) He seemed fine in person, but you know he doesn't want to burden people with his troubles (sad, but true) and he is especially cautious when there's a chance that the person in question wants to help out (that's because certain people thought the only way to help any situation involved murder and/or eating people). I expect at least four pages of his day-to-day activities (psst, like Nie Huaisang was going to strain himself to do something like that) in exchange of which I will provide a brand new illustrated set of your preferred brand of picture book (...damn her for knowing his weaknesses). 

Stay alive and in your own territory (same to you, Mother), and best wishes to my best little savory dumpling in the world, may he be ever delicious and ready to eat.

(Stop being weird, Mother.)

(Also, he wasn’t hers, he was Nie Huaisang’s.)

-

"No signature, as always," Nie Huaisang observed, and Nie Mingjue snorted.

"Like anyone could mimic how your mother talks."

Nie Huaisang thought about it, then shrugged in agreement. 

"How is she doing?"

Nie Huaisang gave his brother an incredulous look, which (rightfully) made the older man flush. 

"I have no idea how to tell," he defended himself. "I just want to know that she's not facing any difficulties, that's all. She'd never admit it if she was."

Only da-ge, Nie Huaisang thought fondly, and also No wonder she likes him so much.

It was, he had to admit, the one area in which his mother had impeccable taste that completely accorded with his own. 

His da-ge was simply, unquestionably, the best.