#Long in the Tooth opinions

[lets-bob-michael-blog]

Why Americans No Longer Trust The Media

The mainstream media have long been considered a trusted source of news and information in the United States. However, in recent years, trust in the media has eroded significantly, and many Americans no longer see it as a reliable source of information. So, what has caused this shift in perception, and why do so many Americans no longer trust the mainstream media? One major reason for this lack…

[dracula-enthusiast]

obviously i enjoy cute happy cathartic chainshipping stuff but personally. to me. one of the reasons its so compelling is that they are two deeply incompatible people, trying to cling to each other anyway.

Lawrence, with his need for control and order, who was devoted enough to his family he was willing to cut off his own foot to try and save them, and Adam, who seemingly has no real direction in life, who cut off his parents for an unknown reason and who, in the original script anyway, was shown to be passively suicidal. a surgeon who has friends that are lawyers, and a freelance photographer who has friends like fucking Scott Tibbs.

they cannot be more different from each other. they're like puzzle pieces that don't fit, but by god are they going to try and force them together anyway because if they don't they'll lose the only other person in the world who understands what happened to them in that bathroom. and they can't afford to lose that they need that. they need the reassurance that what happened to them was real and that they made the right decisions and that they're okay now.

they would be messy and they would argue all the time and they would piss each other off to no end but they would be so incredibly dependent on each other that they would put in the effort to be together anyway. do u get it do u see my vision

[solargeist]

teeth are better left stained, crooked, and sharp, in my humble opinion...

[reidrum]

you say ‘what a mind’ | s.r.

A/N: she’s back and with fluff! (?) exams were really putting me through the ringer but i missed posting so i fixed up this draft i had, i hope you enjoy :D ive been listening to sabrina 25/8 since she dropped so hopefully song inspired fics coming soon 🤞🏽

summary: you get really excited about something new you learned and spencer gets really excited about you

wc: a short n sweet 1k

cw: none, tooth rotting fluff

_______________________________________________

With Spencer's extensive knowledge of just about everything, you had assumed that there wasn’t much you contribute to his abundant learning.

You maybe weren’t three-PhD’s smart, but you were smart, averagely speaking. But you knew Spencer was smart, and truth be told it intimidated you. He never made you feel bad about not knowing something, ever. Anytime he gets to talk to you about anything his face lights up like the night sky.

There was, however, one time you had come home all excited to explain a concept from class that finally clicked for you. And the first person you wanted to tell was Spencer.

He watched you bound up to him with a spring in your step, bright eyed and wide cheeks as you told him, “I have to tell you about what I learned about today, it finally made sense to me. Like it felt like a real life light bulb final puzzle piece fitting type moment!”

He smiled warmly down at your eager face, “Alright angel, lay it on me.”

“Okay, I know it’s a little stupid it’s taken me this long to get it, but it’s—“

The call of your name sternly yet fondly falling from Spencer’s lips interrupts your self deprecating preamble, “Hey, we don’t do that, remember? We talked about this.”

Your rants almost always started with some self deprecating remarks, and he would always frown and try to interject and shut them down, to which you’d wave him off under the guise of, “If I stop, I’ll forget!” You were smart, but stubborn to a fault. He loved you for it, but it was hard for him to see you not understand the value you held, the value that your voice and your words and your opinions held. The value that he knew with all certainty you possessed.

A sheepish blush rises on your cheeks as you mumble, “Sorry.”

His fingers trickle closer to yours and wrap around them firmly, bringing you to sit on the couch next to him as he pulls your legs over to rest on his.

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” he says saccharinely, “We’re working on being nicer to ourselves right?”

You nod, he smiles softly back at you and continues, “Okay, tell me what you learned today.”

You start on your long explanation of the inner workings of the nervous system and its intricacies, explaining details and anecdotes that really showcase the inner workings of how your mind processes information.

Spencer can’t help but stare at you in deep fascination, complete with an awestruck smile and glimmering eyes.

He’s met hundreds of scientists, specialists, celebrities even, and listen to them talk about their research in extensive detail and with expansive knowledge. Hell, he’s had to do it himself with his three doctorates.

But as he sits in front of you, watching the person he’s most fond of on this planet watch you talk with so much speed, conviction, passion, with your hands move with purpose and excitement, he truly swears he has never been more in love with you than that moment.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask cautiously.

“You,” he moves closer, “Are so intelligent, did you know that?”

“Spencer, I’m not in the mood for jokes plea—“

“No, my love. You are brilliant,” he moves closer to be an inch away from you, placing his hands on your cheeks, “The way you process information is fascinating. When I watch you explain things to me I can see you organize it in your pretty head. It is actually mesmerizing watching you absorb knowledge the way you do. You’re like, a beautiful puzzle all undone, but by the forces of nature you’re able to put yourself together and bear the finished product to me, to anyone.”

Your eyes tear up, “Spence…what the fuck.”

He chuckles softly, “I mean it,” he holds you firmly, planting you in the roots of his belief, “What a mind you have, darling.”

It’s enough to make you tuck your head into his chest, obstructing his view from your imminent tearfall.

“You can’t just say things like that.” you mumble against the soft fabric of his shirt.

Spencer instinctively wraps his arm around your torso, letting the other hand take purchase in your hair, gently stroking it down, “Why not?” He speaks softly.

“Because…I might think you're like, in love with me or something.” You joke.

His laugh rumbles through his chest and into your rested head, “Would that be so bad?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s going to be another whole moon cycle before I have another a-ha moment like this again. I’ll have nothing to impress you with.”

Spencer smiles and sighs, squeezing you tighter against him, “You always impress me.”

You groan, “Ugh, you don’t have to say that to make me feel better.���

“You do know that you’re really smart, right?” you open your mouth to argue but he cuts you off, “You always underestimate yourself, but you’re really one of the smartest people I know. And I know a lot of smart people.”

A deep sigh leaves you, but he continues, “And you don’t have to believe me. I’ll believe it enough for the both of us. You and your brain are remarkable, so when you come to me with your a-ha moments thinking I’ll be impressed with your spark of knowledge, just know that I am impressed with you, but it’s more because I get to see you realize just how capable you are yourself.”

The calming motion of his fingers through your hair tether you back to this world, your insides fluttering about like butterflies in an open field. It was hard not to believe his words when Spencer was always so kind to you. It was always so easy for you to play it off like you didn’t deserve it.

But Spencer knew wholeheartedly that you did deserve it, that you were even entitled to it. And he’d spend the rest of his life reminding you. That, you knew for a fact.

“I love you,” you say softly, “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me angel, I love you too.” He mumbles in your head, his hand trailing down your sides in comfort.

[beanxiv]

satoru gojo who has the biggest sweet tooth ever but won't hesitate to offer you a bite of his kikufuku-- even though it's his favorite.

satoru gojo who, when you shake your head to him buying you an expensive gift, buys it for you anyways, because no amount of money will be more valuable than seeing you happy with a what he's bought you. especially when he knows its his name on the card that's being slid through the reader to purchase whatever it is you set your eyes on.

satoru gojo who readily pulls his blindfold/sunglasses off in your presence because only you quiet the overlapping, draining echoes in his head.

satoru gojo who peppers you with kisses for as long as you let him, because you deserve to feel just how much adoration he has for you.

satoru gojo who takes you out to gorgeous high-end restaurants, having the both of you dress up just as gorgeously. not to mention, throughout the night you'll hear endless compliments of how "that outfit really compliments your figure," or how, "that color makes your eyes look so pretty." and so on and so forth, satoru can't run out of compliments when you give him so much to talk about

satoru gojo who is the best at princess treatment. do not try opening your own door around him. he will do somersaults to get there before you can. you know those tiktoks of people rolling over the top of the car and dropping onto the ground to open the door for their significant other? yeah, that's satoru.

satoru gojo who surprises you with those giant, beautiful bouquets that have money and your favorite snacks in them because he loves to see your expression when he hands it to you

satoru gojo who loves to show you off. he'll send the gc with him, shoko, and suguru endless texts about how he loves his s/o so much and how he's so lucky to have them. and he sends especially petty messages sometimes about how suguru and shoko are still single while he's happily married (he'll say this before you're even engaged)

satoru gojo who used to not get flustered by anyone because-- well he's satoru gojo-- he's the one who gets people all flustered up. but when you came into his life? try as he might to talk smooth and be flirty, you turned him into a stuttering mess sometimes. he'd play it off when he got lucky, but whenever you caught him off guard? he'd blush to his ears, glancing away and all.

satoru gojo who always texts you if he's at the store to ask if you want him to pick up something for you while he's there.

satoru gojo who, if you're sick, will act like you're dying in his arms. he'll panic, rushing around to get you medicine, whatever snacks you're craving, etc. he showers you in kisses and cuddles like they'll be his last

alternatively, satoru gojo who, when he gets sick, demands attention 24/7. you're not there when he wakes up? he'll pout and be upset until he's had his fill of your cuddles. loves when you feed him while he's sick, it makes him feel so loved and taken care of.

satoru gojo who loves when you ask for his opinion. which outfit is nicer? well both of them look perfect on you, but that one brings out your skin tone. which show should you watch? what about the one where you'll love to watch together? it makes him feel so important when you ask what he prefers.

satoru gojo who kicks his feet and giggles when he gets a text from you. he's on a mission with suguru, shoving his phone in suguru's face giggling over whatever you said. the phone is so close to his face that whatever is on the screen isn't even legible at this proximity but it makes satoru skip like a little schoolgirl as he and suguru walk to wherever they've been assigned to.

satoru gojo who asks shoko for advice since she's a friend of yours. asking her questions like, "should I get them this or this?" or "do they like this or this better?"

satoru gojo who starts a book or tv series just because you recommended it to him. because when has his beautiful partner ever steered him wrong? this applies for any advice you've given him too

satoru gojo who makes you an example for megumi. "see this, megumi? your standards should be this high! look how perfect y/n is, you should find you a partner like that too!"

satoru gojo who shows you megumi's picture album of when he was younger because he loves to see the two most important people in his life bonding, even if it means embarrassing megumi.

on that note, satoru gojo who's apartment is filled with photos of you and megumi and all his friends and family, and his phone's wallpaper is a picture of you too

satoru gojo who watches old tapes of you and him in high school together a lot whenever you're on missions without him. the nostalgia makes him miss the times when everything was okay in high school, but it also makes him so grateful that he finally managed to make you his after pining for you for so long

satoru gojo who's possessive but in a boastful way, you posted a tiktok? he's the first like, comment, and save. spams your comment section saying, "THATS ACTUALLY MY S/O" and whatnot because he's absolutely obsessed with you

satoru gojo, the strongest sorcerer, who is absolutely no match for you because the moment you make eye contact with him, he just goes weak and can't say no to a single request of yours

©beanxiv — all rights reserved. copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is not allowed.

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬✯

IN WHICH...Y/n is tired of Chris and his negligence towards her, so she decides to pull out her Freakum Dress.

WARNINGS.... mentions of cheating (it doesn't happen) drinking, manhandling, hair pulling, slapping, choking, spanking, pussy slapping, titty slapping, sucking on fingers, stomach bulging, raw sex, rough sex, dom! Chris, overstimulation. cum play, cream pie. I think that's it.

"Stop i'm not ready yet!"

Y/n shouts as her friends pose in her body mirror for pictures. She quickly fixes her hair, removing her lace band and running a wide tooth comb through the curls. She smiles at herself in her vanity mirror before snapping her fingers towards her friends.

"Pass me my dress!"

Layla grabs the dress hanging on the hook and passes it to the robe-clad girl. Y/n gawked at the dress, a Cheshire smile on her face. She drops her robe and begins to slip the see-through material over her body.

The dress, if you could call it that, did little to nothing to cover her up. It was her favorite color (baby pink), and completely see-through. The lace material was sewn into roses and the front was held together by a very thin metal bar.

Her boobs were on display, the only thing covering them were the brown pasties on her nipples.

"Girl he is going to beat your ass!" Layla laughed pulling the dress down a bit to cover the girl's ass. Y/n slaps her hand away and smacks her lips.

"I don't care, he should be acting right!" She exclaims in annoyance as she checks herself out in the mirror.

The whole purpose for her going out tonight was because Chris had been neglecting her, and she was fed up. In her opinion she doesn't ask him for much, really just wanting his love and affection, and she hasn't been receiving that. She knows Chris has to work, but he's been brushing her off, ditching her to hang out with his friends, leaving to film and not coming home until 5 am, they haven't even had sex in two weeks! She was tired of being left in the house alone for too long, so she called up her girls, pulled out her freakum dress, and started getting ready.

"Exactly! Since he wants to act up, you should too! It's been a minute since we all went out anyway, the streets are yelling for us!" her friend Thalia proclaimed as she sipped her twisted tea.

After she slips on her Playboy heels and takes a few pictures with her girls, the group leaves the home, ready to take on the night.

The whole ride Y/n was reading Chris's texts, smirking when she saw him frantically asking where she was going. He ended up calling her and she quickly declined the call, putting their messages on DND and turning the music up in the car.

It's not long before the group arrives at the club. Drinks were immediately purchased thanks to a few guys who found the group attractive, wanting to bag at least one of the girls for the night and rock their world.

One of the boys made it a mission to lay it on thick with Y/n, staying close to her and never her go without a drink. She knew what he wanted, with the way he kept looking her up and down licking his lips, the way his eyes lingered on her chest, how he did a double take when he mistook her skin-colored thong as her being underwear-free, it was obvious what he was looking for.

"You know, your outfit is really nice," he whispers in her ear, both his hands planted firmly on her waist. She giggles and rolls her eyes, pulling back to glance at him.

"Yeah?" She questions as she bats her lashes. He nods and leans down, attempting to catch her lips with his. Y/n ducks the kiss, moving her head to the side.

She finds this whole interaction hilarious.

This guy whose name she doesn't even care to know, is trying so hard to get her attention, attempting to lure her into bed with him. little does he know, Chris is going to be the one to tear this dress off of her tonight.

But little did Y/n know, her friends were posting pictures and videos on their privet stories, and Chris saw all of them.

She was only made aware when she felt herself being pulled back into someone's chest, their breath fanning over her ear.

"I suggest you walk your ass out of here and get the fuck in the car."

She smirks to herself and turns around, throwing her arms over Chris's shoulders. "I don't want to leave, derrick is buying me another drink." She purposely whines. She can tell by the way his eyes narrow that he's fed up with her antics.

One of his hands grips her hair while the other grips her jaw, his face inching closer to hers. Before he can open his mouth to put her in her place, another voice is heard.

"Get your hands off my girl bro!"

Y/n is yanked away from Chris and pulled into 'Derricks' hold, a drink being placed in her hands.

Chris's usual bright blue eyes were already a stormy blue, but seeing this asshole touch his girl has his eyes teetering on the edge of grey. "Your girl?" Chris raises a brow and has an angry scowl on his face.

Y/n leisurely sips her drink, watching the heated interaction as if it were a rerun of her favorite show.

"Yeah, my girl!" Derrick exclaims, his grip tightening on Y/n's waist.

"Do you know that your girl bounces on my dick every night?" Chris deadpans. Derricks tenses and Y/n rolls her eyes.

Chris was never one to be afraid of voicing their sex life. If he could give a TED talk about it, he would.

Chris glowers at 'Derrick', daring him to say something. He takes the hint and drops his hand from Y/n's waist, walking away without a word. Chris's eyes land on Y/n, the two holding such an intense gaze, that she results to looking away.

Chris takes a menacing step forward, grabbing her jaw and forcing her to look at him. "Finish your drink, and then we are going home." He demands, his voice penetrating.

"What if I don't want to go home?"

Chris's face becomes choleric, his eyes finally turning grey. He snatches her forward and throws the drink on the ground, not caring about the glass scattering across the club floor.

Y/n breath hitches, as the hand on her jaw travels to her throat, squeezing the sides tightly.

"Get. The Fuck. In. The Car. NOW!" He doesn't even give her a chance to walk herself, simply grabbing her arm in an iron-like grip and dragging her through the club.

She stumbles as he takes long and fast strides, the two of them making it to the car in record timing.

Despite Chris being angry with her, he still opens the door, smacking her ass harshly in the process of her crawling in. She yelps in shock, turning to give him a dirty look, but she's met with the passenger door slamming in her face.

She grumbles to herself as he climbs in the car, quietly starting the engine and driving off.

The ride was quiet for the most part, the only sounds being the busy streets of California.

They soon make it home, y/n stumbling due to the multiple drinks she had. Chris watches with dark and low eyes as she leans against the wall to take her heels off. Y/n can feel his hungry gaze burning into the back of her head, but she ignores it, choosing to walk into the bedroom.

She makes it into the bedroom, walking towards the closet to grab clothes, but she doesn't make it that far. Chris is quick to grab a fistful of her hair, wrapping his hand in the brunette curls as he pushes her down on the bed.

A mix of a yelp and a gasp exits her throat as his hand comes down hard on her ass, leaving a burning sensation on the jiggling flesh. "You think it's funny to go out of the house looking like this? Huh?" He doesn't give her a chance to answer, slapping her ass once again.

"You think it's funny letting another guy touch all over you like you're his? Letting him buy you drinks?" Another smack is given.

"I think I'm hilarious actu-MMPH!" Chris cuts her off by shoving her face into the comforter.

"Shut the fuck up!" He uses his free hand to hike her waist up, her back arched and face still shoved into the blankets. He goes to yank her underwear down, but stops seeing the damp patch seeping through the skin-colored material.

"You're wet sweetheart-" He takes his ring and index finger, using both digits to rub over the damp material, spreading her wetness around even more. Despite her eyes being closed, she still manages to roll her eyes back, letting out a shakey breath at the feeling of finally being touched.

"-listen to yourself." He demands, his fingers still working her through the underwear. The only thing the two can hear is her wetness moving around, making an erotic sloshing noise. "What are you wet from, hm?"

Y/n manages to lift her head, her body still leaning back into his touch,

"Derrick."

Chris is quick to flip her around, Y/n yelping as his hand slaps the folds between her legs. He loops his fingers through the underwear and tears them off of her, flinging the material somewhere in the room. He roughly shoves two fingers into her seeping hole, immediately thrusting and curling them. Y/n moans at the rough pleasure she's receiving, feeling all the built-up sexual frustration finally being taken care of.

"You're such a fucking whore, telling your boyfriend you're wet from another guy. He didn't even touch you. Are you that desperate and touch starved you get wet from a guy smiling at you?"

She whimpers and arches her back from his degrading words.

"Pathetic"

Chris yanks his finger away and slaps her glistening pussy once more before shoving his wet fingers deep into her mouth. Y/n chokes and gags, her eyes clenching shut and burning as tears form in her eyes. She opens her eyes and stares up at Chris as she manages to suck on his fingers.

He pulls his fingers away from her mouth, trailing them down her chest as she pants heavily. Suddenly, he tears the thin lace material from her body.

"Chris-Shut the fuck up!" He slaps her across the face and smashes his lips against hers. His hands find their way to her breasts, tweaking and twisting at her nipples. She whimpers into the kiss, the stimulation of her nipples going right to her core. She bucks her hips, begging for any type of friction. Chris smirks into the kiss, pulling away and hiding his face in her neck, biting and sucking at the warm and salty skin.

"You want me to fuck you? I thought you wanted Derrick?" He teases, using one of his hands to discreetly pull down his sweats and boxers. Y/n mewls pathetically at his words, "You, I want you! Chris ple-" her jaw drops open and her hands fly to his back, digging her nails into his skin.

Chris grunts feeling her warm and wet gummy walls clamp around him. He doesn't waste a single second in snapping his hips against hers, the sound of skin slapping quickly filling the room. He grunts as he sits up on his knees, pulling her closer by her thighs to go deeper.

Chris pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth, his fingers leaving prints on her plush thighs. He watches as Y/n writhers in pleasure, her body jerking with each thrust. He looks down at where their bodies connect, but he notices something, something that unlocks this primal urge in him.

He allows one of his hands to leave her thigh and pick her head up, forcing her into an upright position. He angles her head down, forcing her to look at the bulge in her stomach.

This is a first for both of them. Chris always fucks her deep, but not deep enough to the point where he can see himself in her stomach

"look at the shit-fuck-" he uses his free hand to press down on the mound, grinning wildly as Y/n sobs at the feeling.

He lets go of her, allowing her head to drop back down on the bed. He throws her legs over his shoulder, leaning forward and basically bending her in half. He wraps both hands around her throat, pistoning his hips at a brutal pace.

Y/n is in heaven, this is all she has been wanting for the past two weeks. Due to his hands being wrapped around her throat, the only noises falling from her mouth were small whistling noises mixed with wheezing. Her eyes roll back and Chris lets out a dry laugh.

He lets go of her throat, watching as she gaps for air, but his thrusting never stops. " That jackass-fuck-he can't fuck you like this could he?" Y/n is too cock drunk and busy trying to breathe properly to answer, causing Chris to slap her breast.

"Answer me mama. You were all talk earlier, run your mouth like you always do."

Just like before, Y/n doesn't answer.

Chris growls and pulls out, flipping her on her hands and knees before shoving himself right back inside of her. Her back arches upward, looking like a cat stretching. Chris shoves her back down onto the bed, grabbing both of her hips and yanking her back into his thrusts.

She hasn't even had one orgasm yet and she's already overstimulated. Not being able to handle it, she reaches back and pathetically attempts to slow him down.

"C-Chris wa-Stop fucking running and take it!" He swats her hand away, shoving her head back into the blankets. Her legs kick wildly, almost as if she's throwing a tantrum. The whole bed is shaking and scratching at the floor from the brute force of his thrusts. he's shocked the mattress hasn't fallen through the wooden bed frame yet.

By this point, Y/n is sobbing from the pleasure and pain. Her once flawlessly done makeup was ruined. Her lipstick is smudged all around her mouth, even on the blankets. Her mascara and eyeliner dripped down her face creating a stream of black salty tears.

"C-close!" she sobs out, her body shaking.

Chris grunts and yanks her back by her hair, her hands shakily holding her up.

"fuck- whose pussy is this?" She moans loudly in response, her fingers gripping the white bedding tightly.

"Tell me whose pussy this is, or you're not cumming."

"Yo-fuck!" She yelps as Chris starts swiping along her clit, drawing figure eights. "Tell me baby, you know I always want you to finish, but if I have to leave you hanging I will." He rasps out. Chris is on the brink himself. He knows this is going to be messy, her juices are already running down her thighs and there's a thick white cream sitting on the base of his dick and abdomen.

"Oh fuck, it's yours-Chris Chris Chri-" Y/n shakes violently as her orgasm rips through her, a loud scream falling out of her mouth as her juices splash onto the bed.

Chris moans loudly and finally lets go, filling her up to the brim. He lets go of her hair, allowing her face to fall forward and back into the bed. Both of them stay in place, panting heavily. Chris slowly pulls out, watching with deranged eyes as his dick falls limp and his seed begins to drip out and onto the comforter underneath them. He bites his lip seeing her hole clench around nothing. He takes two fingers and smears the creamy residue around, nothing but love and possessiveness swarming in his chest.

He turns her onto her back, settling between her legs. He wastes no time and dives in, licking and lapping at her folds like a dehydrated dog. Y/n whines, trying to push his head away from her aching folds. eventually, he does pull away, their mess all over his chin and some of it in his mouth.

He moves to hover over her, forcing her mouth open and quickly spitting their mess into her mouth.

"Next time you decide to wear a fucking dress like that, remember this." He shuts her jaw, Y/n immediately swallowing the creamy liquid and spit.

He picks her up and carries her to the bathroom, getting ready to run the both of them a bath.

As his back is turned to her, a small delirious smile makes its way onto her face,

Thank god for her Freakum Dress.

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🍑: @mattslolita @thenickgirl @guccifrog @luverboychris @zayyluvz @mrsmiagreer @chrisssluttywaist @78yaz @hoesformatt @freshloveforthefit @3lizaluvs @mattsturniolosgirlfriend @jetaimevous @luxy-nyx @ts-is-my-spirt-animal @iihrtsturniol0 @idontexistman @katw4shereee @madisturn @starlace111 @zivall @adoreindie @imwetforyourmom @sturnsxplr-25 @sturncakez @theyluvme-2315 @moonk1ss3d @@babyalliah-777 @sturniololol @oliviasturniolo21 @ariithereyet @blahbel668

[caputvulpinum]

Do you love roleplaying SICK FREAKS who are TRAPPED IN A TIME LOOP or an OTHERWISE CHRONOLOGICALLY UNSTABLE SITUATIONSHIP but are CRUCIALLY+CRITICALLY NOT A GOTH? Then boy howdy do I have the NOT A GUN for you!

The Horus "Pegasus" is a mech that FULFILLS ALL YOUR NEEDS so long as YOUR NEEDS ARE PARACAUSAL+!!RED IN TOOTH&&CLAW!! this beautiful wonderful intelligent awe-inspiring mindnumbingly intricate impossible VERY COOL INVENTION WHICH IS SAFE AND GOOD FOR YOU! comes

equipped with a POTENT ARSENAL for delivering UNSTOPPABLE FORCE to any IMMOVABLE OBJECTS I.E. SOFT-BODY OR OTHER IMPROBABLE OBSTACLES, the "Pegasus" knows EVERYTHING, by the way, and is very EAGER 2 SHOW U ALL OF IT HAHA WINKY FACE. Accusations of instability are OSIRIS-CLASS METAPSYOPS and FAKE NEWS. After all, you have ALREADY SHOT YOUR[--enemies, all around you. but with a simple thought you never had any enemies, only burns in the firmament, like cigarettes that you never smoked.]

Good for: INSUFFERABLE MUNCHKINS, RULES LAWYERS, LICH-ANNOYERS, SEXY WAR CRIMES

Bad for: PEOPLE WHO DO NOT LIKE THEIR MECHS TO HAVE MEAT AND/OR THOUGHTS AND OPINIONS OF THEIR OWN, DIPLOMATS, INTERPERSONAL COMMUNICATION, TAXES

[ohnoitstbskyen]

What are your thoughts and the same-face-syndrome Oda has going on with Nami, Vivi, Rebecca, and Shirahoshi?

Oda is kind of a frustrating artist in this regard, as he is in many regards.

Because on the one hand he demonstrates, to a greater extent than almost any of his peers, the ability to design interesting, varied, creative, compelling and fun characters, with a huge variety in presentation and body type, and without the dehumanizing distancing that a lot of artists employ when depicting non-normative bodies.

Charlotte Lola for example, one of my favourites, is a character who is extremely caricatured, and depicted as stocky, broad, and rough around the edges, with a missing tooth and odd proportions. But the story consistently treats her interiority with respect and depicts her as complex and interesting beyond her sillier surface traits.

... and then up AGAINST that you have the Infinite Leggy Busty Beauty Brigade, which includes Nami, Robin, Carrot, Pudding, Doll, Domino, Boa Hancock, Vivi, Kalifa, Shakuyaku, Alivda, and on and on and on and on.

And it's this frustrating binary where Oda seems to know exactly ONE way to visually present feminine beauty: thin, curvy, busty, with long legs and a round face, and he repeats it over and over and over again like his only two modes of design are either Copy Paste Pin-Up or Crazy Caricature.

The same face syndrome comes out of that, I think. Because the gamut of what A Beautiful Woman™ can look like in One Piece is so narrow and has so few traits available to it, repetition becomes inevitable.

And idk if this is just Oda's personal indulgence, maybe he just draws the kinds of women he's attracted to, and fair enough I guess, people have the right to be self-indulgent in their art, but it is consistently one of his biggest weaknesses as an artist and designer that he just can't seem to stop reproducing the same hot babe design over and over again.

I will say that Oda is not noticeably any worse in this regard than most anime and manga - copy pasted normative bodies with same-face syndrome is the norm, not the exception, especially for female characters. And that doesn't make it not a flaw in Oda's work, just a flaw that should be understood and assessed within its context, where Oda's repetitive babes are (at least in my opinion) still more distinct and interesting than how most of the industry treats its Hot Babe characters visually.

Still wish he would incorporate, like, ONE new idea for what a beautiful woman can look like, though.

[itneverendshere]

erase all of my memories without you - rafe cameron.

part 2 of can't remember anything before you.

pairing: rafe cameron x thornton!reader; brother's best friend! trope or best friend's sister! trope lmao; fem!reader.

word count: a lot??

WARNINGS: boyfriend!rafe <3; rafe being the biggest lover boy; tooth-rotting fluff if im being honest; topper's a dick but just for a sec; rafe is down bad; so cute.

“rafe, i told you, no hickeys!”

“can you blame me?” he has that mischievous gleam in his eyes, like he's testing just how far he can push your boundaries. “you’re just so pretty, baby.”

you roll your eyes, trying to maintain a serious tone despite the playful grin pulling at your lips. “shut up.” 

being with rafe cameron was not on your yearly plans, but every single day, you thank your lucky stars for finally doing something right. he's a total game-changer, your personal slice of heaven. 

who would have thought the universe had that kind of surprise up its sleeve? 

he leans in closer, breath warm against your ear, arms wrapped securely around your waist, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. "i should visit more often if that’s how you’re going to greet me each time.”

you can't help but lean back into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness.

"you should." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers gently tracing circles on his hand. “wouldn't mind that at all."

you’d been together ever since that fateful night in your garden, months ago. 

sneaking around had its thrills, especially with your brother always lurking nearby, but nothing compared to the challenge of a long-distance relationship. late-night calls, stolen moments of intimacy over video chats, and endless messages are your lifelines. 

so when rafe finally stepped through the door of your new york apartment last night, after weeks apart, it was no surprise that you couldn't help but pounce on him, eager to make up for lost time. his slutty grey sweatpants, his choice of comfortable for a flight, were imprinted into your brain. 

“so, so pretty." he murmurs, lips brushing against your earlobe, “y'know i can't resist leaving my mark on you."

you playfully swat at him, a grin spreading across your face despite your half-hearted protest, “topper would kill you."

rafe snorts, the sound traveling through your body as he presses a kiss to your temple, “he can try.”

you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of keeping your relationship with rafe under wraps. it’s not like you don’t want to make it official, god, you do. but you’ve spent the last four months having him all to yourself, you don’t want other people to butt in and ruin everything with their unsolicited opinions. 

being with him feels right. he's your rock, your constant in a world that's always changing. 

“can we go back to bed now?” rafe’s warm breath tickles your ear as he speaks, his voice laced with a hint of grogginess, sleep still clouding his brain, “it’s fucking freezing.”

you chuckle quietly at his sleepy request, the sound mixing with the gentle hum of the heater as it struggles to combat the winter chill.

“course." you murmur, unwrapping yourself from his arms to press a tender kiss to his cheek, "let's get you warmed up."

his fingers don’t let you move an inch away, circling your wrist to pull you closer against his chest again, big cheeky smile on his face as he looks down at you. “you gonna warm me up, peach?”

"i might." you reply with a sly smirk, trailing a finger down his shirtless chest. "but you might have to work for it a little."

rafe's eyes widen with mock surprise. "is that so?" he asks, his voice low and husky as he pulls you closer. “well, lucky for you, i’m up for a challenge."

you’d never felt butterflies in your tummy until you started dating this man. he has you wrapped around his fingers, and you don’t want out. it physically hurts you to even think about a time when you didn’t have rafe like this.

you can't imagine being anywhere else but here, wrapped in his embrace.

with a playful giggle, you give him a knowing look. "’m counting on it," you murmur, as you pull him closer. you stand on your barefoot tiptoes, arms lacing around his neck. “really missed you.”

rafe's arms tighten around you as he pulls you impossibly close, his warmth enveloping you like a cozy blanket. his gaze softens, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter even faster.

 “missed you too, more than you know." he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours as he leans in to press a docile kiss to your lips.

“always thinking about my girl.” 

as his lips meet yours, a wave of warmth washes over you, melting away any lingering traces of cold or distance. fuck, you’re in love with him and if he keeps kissing you like this, you might confess earlier. you’re way in over your head.

you sigh contentedly against his lips, savoring the feeling of being so close to him after being apart for so long. his touch, his scent, his presence—all of it feels like home to you. breaking the kiss reluctantly, you rest your forehead against his.

“stop staring at me like that peach.” he scolds, but there’s no bite to his tone as his fingertips brush your cheek lightly. “gonna end up buying this fucking building if you keep that up.”

you smile again, that’s all you seem to do around him anyway, as his beautiful eyes sweep up from your lips to meet your own. “rafe cameron living in new york? i’d pay to see that.”

rafe chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending pleasant vibrations through your body. his fingers trace lazy patterns along your cheek, his touch sweet and affectionate.

“you'd pay to see it, huh?" he teases, a playful glint in his face as he leans in closer to you, his breath warm against your skin. “’m that good of an investment?”

you can't help but laugh at his playful banter, shaking your head. you love that you get to see this side of him, how soft he is with you, only you.

“you’re alright cameron.”

"jus’ alright?" he feigns offense, his hand moving to rest over his heart in an exaggerated manner. "take it back.”

“nop.”

rafe lets out a dramatic sigh, pretending to be wounded. "no?” 

you can't help but giggle at his theatrics, finding it endearing how he always manages to lighten the mood.

"you big baby." you tease, poking him playfully in the side.

“oh, i’ll show you big.”

before you can even wrap your brain around his innuendo, you’re being thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. he does it so effortlessly you almost swoon. 

you squeal in surprise, the sudden movement catching you off guard. "rafe, what the fuck?" you laugh, squirming slightly as he carries you effortlessly across the room. “what are you doing—hey!”

his palm smacks against one of your cheeks, covered by nothing except a pair of his ralph lauren boxers. “taking you to bed, where you belong.”

you play along, pretending to protest even as you secretly enjoy the attention. 

"and what if i don't want to go to bed?" you retort, trying to sound defiant.

rafe stops in his tracks, his grip tightening around your legs. "oh, trust me, peach," he says, his tone turning serious for a moment, "you definitely want to go to bed."

“hmm, not sure.”

“it’s okay brat, you’ll be sure soon enough." he teases, deep voice making you want to do the most immoral things on every single surface of your apartment.

a repeat of last night. 

you play along, feigning uncertainty as he deposits you gently onto the queen-sized bed, his stare burning with desire as he hovers over you, thick arms caging you in. one of your hands wraps around his bicep, nails grazing the skin as you glance up at him, head tilted to the side.

rafe’s eyes instantly move to your neck as your hair slips behind, tongue poking out to wet his lips, "i don't know, baby, might have to convince me."

he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "consider it my pleasure." he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizingly gentle kiss.

you feel a shiver run down your back as rafe's lips meet yours, his kiss sending a surge of electricity through your body. you’ll never get used to this. his touch is both tender and assertive, his lips moving against yours with a practiced finesse that leaves you breathless. 

it's like every nerve in your being wakes up, responding eagerly to his touch.

as he deepens the kiss, his hands roam over your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips with a possessive urgency, with a sense of familiarity as if committing every curve to memory. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss even further, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips before delving into your mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss. you melt against him, surrendering. 

you feel a surge of heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, your breath catching in your throat as he explores you with a hunger that leaves you trembling.

“better than alright?” he mumbles against your lips and you find yourself unable to resist the pull of his touch, arching against him in silent invitation. his lips trail a path of fire along your jawline and down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake, “lost your voice, huh?”

he’s so addicted to sucking harshly on your skin, nibbling it playfully to drag out and elicit the sweetest sounds from your mouth. a melodic moan escapes your parted lips.

“you’re such an asshole.”

“there she is.” rafe's husky chuckle fills the air, sending pleasant vibrations through your body as he continues to pepper kisses along your neck, each one igniting a fiery trail of craving in its wake. “’m your asshole though.”

“not if you keep teasing.” 

his lips pause their trail, hovering just above your skin as he looks up at you, one of his brows raised, "teasing?”

before you can protest his lips are on yours again, hungry and demanding. his hands roam over your body with a newfound urgency, tracing every corner and eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. he has the audacity to hush you when he pins you harder with his hips, clothed cock rubbing perfectly against you. 

your nails can’t help but dig into his shoulders, pulling at the skin. the way he's moving against you makes you feel like getting on your knees and letting him do whatever he wants to you, for however long he wishes to.

but then, your stupid intercom is buzzing.

you both freeze, caught in the throes of passion interrupted. rafe drops his head on your shoulder, groaning. 

"seriously?" he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration as he rolls off you, giving you space to sit up.

“it’s probably breakfast.” you’re smoothing out your rumpled clothes— if you can call an oversized tee and boxers an outfit.

rafe lets out an exaggerated sigh, flopping back onto the bed, “’m so hard it hurts.” he whines, throwing an arm over his face.

“you’ll be fine.”

“can’t even see you right now, might cum in my sweats.” he mutters, his voice muffled by the fabric of your pillows.

you stifle a laugh, shaking your head at his melodramatic response.

"you're ridiculous." you tease, moving to sit beside him on the bed.

rafe peeks out from under his arm, giving you a glare, his bottom lip jutting out in a comically exaggerated pout. “and you're making me harder, stop touching me and go get the door.”

you lean in to press a quick kiss to his cheek, feet planted on the ground as you attempt to get up, but he’s quick to pull you down again. his beefy arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back on top of him.

“rafe.”

“gimme a kiss before you go.”

“though you didn’t want me to touch you.” you tease, leaning down to press a short kiss to his lips. it's meant to be quick, just a peck, but his hand snakes up to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. settling on your lower lip, he draws it into his mouth, sucking lightly, pushing you even closer. he runs his hands along your sides, one stopping just below your covered breasts—

“the door,” you manage to stutter out between kisses, “behave.”

when he finally pulls away, both your lips are slightly swollen, red and you’re both breathless.

 "there," you say as you push yourself off the bed once more. but this time, rafe lets you go without protest, admiring you with a lazy smile as you make your way to the door. 

when you moved back to new york three months ago, you chose to do it independently. while your parents owned at least three penthouses in the city, you needed something smaller. what was the point in living alone in such big apartments? you’d be miserable and alone most of the time.

you chose a smaller studio, fancy enough to be your type, but cozy enough to make you feel at home, even though you were miles away. 

as you reach the door, you glance back to see rafe still lounging in your bed, arms crossed lazily behind his head. you shake your own, turn back, and open the door.

your heart immediately falls through your ass.

“topper?!”

he ignores you, pushing you aside to enter as he focuses on removing the thick scarf around his neck, struggling to get it off as he rants.

“about damn time, you know how long i was outside?! swear to god i hate this city, it’s freezing for no reason and—is that rafe fucking cameron on your bed?!”

you freeze in place, feeling a knot form in your stomach as you watch topper's reaction unfold. rafe, ever the cool customer, sits up in bed, a smirk playing at his lips as he meets your brother’s incredulous gaze head-on. you can feel a headache forming in the back of your head. 

"hey, top." rafe geets, his tone casual as if he's just encountered an old friend. which he has because that’s his best friend. "long time no see?"

topper's eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of rafe lounging on your bed, “okay, okay. what the fuck is going on?”

he's going to freak out on you.

you clear your throat, trying to find the right words to explain the situation, “he’s visiting.”

top nods, not leaving his best friend out of his sight, “clearly! why are you in my sister’s bed, cameron?”

“was i supposed to sleep on the floor?” rafe replies, tone nonchalantly as he shrugs casually.

you’re going to kill him.

topper's jaw clenches as he shoots rafe a glare, clearly unimpressed by his answer. "you know damn well what i mean." he says, his voice menacing, so different from what you're used to.

rafe's smirk only widens, “relax, man," he says, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "we were just hanging out."

and about to have sex, but your brother doesn’t need all the details. 

topper's expression darkens further at your boyfriend’s flippant attitude, and you can practically feel the terrible outcome. 

"in her bed?" he asks, his voice dangerously low.

you step forward, hoping to defuse the situation before it escalates any further.

 "topper, it's not what you think," you begin, but your brother holds up a hand to silence you.

“and why are you wearing his clothes?”

you glance down at your choice of outfit, flustered, you try to come up with a plausible explanation, “uh—well—it's a funny story, i-i'm out of clothes actually, who knew doing your laundry took so much work?”

his attention flickers between you and rafe, suspicion evident in his expression. you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

"out of clothes?" he repeats, his tone incredulous. "and you decided to borrow his?"

you shift uncomfortably under his scrutinization, trying to come up with a better explanation, but you can’t. “yeah?”

he squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s in pain, “please tell me my sister isn’t fucking my best friend.”

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you, but rafe speaks before you can conjure the words. 

“your sister isn’t fucking your best friend, happy?” 

you shoot rafe a warning look, silently pleading for him to play along and not make the situation worse.

you step forward, again. “topper, please, it's not what you think,” you say, your voice tinged with desperation. “rafe just came to visit, that's all.”

topper's stare softens as he contemplates, but his expression remains guarded. “and you didn't think to tell me?”

you bite your lip, feeling guilty for keeping your relationship with rafe a secret from your brother. “i wanted to, i just... didn't know how.”

rafe interjects, his tone more serious now. “top, i know this probably looks bad—”

“it looks really bad,” topper interrupts, his frustration evident.

“but nothing's happened,” rafe continues, ignoring the interruption. “we're just friends.”

but your brother is still inspecting you. and it’s only when his eyes descend to your neck, you realize what he’s looking at.

“is that why she got at least three hickeys on her neck?”

you feel a flush rise to your cheeks as topper's accusation hangs heavy in the air. you stare nervously at rafe, hoping he'll come up with a believable explanation, but he just shrugs nonchalantly, as if the hickeys are no big deal. 

“they’re not hickeys, i burned myself with my curling iron.”

“yeah and i’m fucking adriana lima on my spare time.”

“okay?” you quickly turn your head back to the wall because you think you're about to puke up everything you just ingested.

"oh fuck, not you." top groans in frustration, seeing where rafe googly looks are directed, “not you two! you can't be serious?! that's my sister, dude; come on!" 

rafe finally stands up from your bed, his tone is firm, his expression serious as he steps closer to your brother, his hands held out in a placating gesture. “it’s not like that.”

topper glances back and forth between you two, focusing on the blush of your cheeks and the adoration in rafe’s face now that you are looking back at him. a sick, knowing feeling had been building inside of him since he walked through the door. 

“i can’t fucking believe this.” 

“it’s not like that,” rafe repeats, walking to your side, hating the way your eyes are starting to water. he keeps his hand on your arm, thumb brushing circles over your cold skin, “we’re together. and watch your fucking tone when you speak to her.”

“don’t tell me how to speak to my sister!"

rafe's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. despite that, his hand remains steady on your arm, offering you a silent anchor of support. you feel a knot tighten in your stomach as you testify the tension between the two most important men in your life escalates.

"guys, please," you interject, your voice trembling, "this isn't helping anything."

“you’re in love with her, cameron?”

topper’s question makes you want to dig a hole in the middle of your studio and run.

what the hell?!

he can’t just barge in and make everything a mess. this is what you were afraid of, people meddling with your relationship. you and rafe haven’t discussed it yet. yeah it’s clear you’re in love with him, but you want to be the one to tell him and vice versa. you don’t want him to feel pressured to do it.

rafe's hand tightens on your arm, anchoring himself with the feeling of you beneath his fingertips. his eyes search yours for guidance. you can see the conflict in his expression.

he doesn’t shy away from the question, and his gaze never leaves yours. he traces every line of your face, “yeah, i am.”

the words hang in the air, a declaration that changes everything and nothing all at once. then time stops. your stomach turns unhelpfully, and you feel your skin turn clammy. 

from the corner of your eye, you see the shock register on your brother’s face before he can hide it. strangely, he seems to understand now, perhaps more than you realized he would. for a moment, there's silence in the room, the weight of rafe's confession settling over all of you. but then topper lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging with the weight of understanding.

"okay," he says, his voice softer now, lacking the edge of anger from before. "okay."

you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, feeling a sense of relief flood through you. despite the uncertainty of what comes next. 

rafe's hand finds yours, intertwining his fingers with yours in a silent gesture of solidarity. you squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch grounding you. 

"thank you," you say to topper, your voice barely above a whisper but brimmed with gratitude.

he nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "just... take care of each other, okay?"

“can you leave now?” rafe all but interrupts the sentimental exchange, “kinda need to properly confess.”

topper raises an eyebrow at his abrupt request, clearly caught off guard by the bluntness. but after a second of hesitation, he nods, pushing himself off the wall where he's been leaning.

"yeah, sure," he says, giving you a meaningful look before turning to leave. "just... be careful, both of you. i’ll stop by later for dinner."

you offer him a small smile in return, feeling a shit ton of emotions swirling inside you as you watch him go. once he's out of sight, you let out a sigh, the tension in the room finally dissipating.

rafe releases your hand, moving to close the door behind topper before returning to your side. his expression is softer now, focused solely on you. 

"you okay?" he asks, his voice soft as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you nod, offering him a shaky smile. "yeah, think so. that was... unexpected."

rafe pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he never wants to let you go. 

"m’ sorry peach," he murmurs against your hair, his voice filled with regret. "didn't mean to drop that bomb on ya like that."

you sink into his embrace, finding comfort in the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart. "t's okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you nuzzle into his chest. "just wish it had been different."

he presses a kiss to the top of your head, arms tightening around you protectively. "i know," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

then, as if a floodgate has opened within you, the words spill from your lips, raw and unfiltered. "i’m in love with you too, rafe."

his arms around you tighten, as if to reassure himself that your words are real. 

"i love you," he murmurs against your hair, "more than anything."

you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “you’re gonna make me cry.”

he pulls back slowly, cupping your face in his hands and wiping away the tears that have started to fall. "hey now, no tears, baby. only happy ones, yeah?"

you nod, sniffling but managing a watery smile. "yeah, happy tears. because i love you, rafe cameron."

he smiles back, a gentleness in him you've never seen before. 

"and i love you, more than anything in this world."

you can't help but lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palms against your cheeks. his stare is full of tenderness, his thumb gently brushing away the last traces of tears.

"you're everything, y’know that?" he murmurs, his voice overflowing with sincerity.

you nod, feeling a lump forming in your throat at the depth of his words. "yeah, i do. and so are you.”

he leans in closer, lips capturing yours in a sweet kiss. he moves against you with a gentle fervor, his hands cradling your face as if you're the most precious thing in the world to him. and in that moment, you know without a doubt that you are and as you pull away, breathless yet content, you rest your forehead against his, savoring the closeness and the warmth that surrounds you.

"i love you," you whisper.

"i love you too, always," rafe replies, his voice a gentle caress against your skin.

[some-bunniii]

Consoling Lucifer on Charlie’s first day of school

・❥ Charlie’s growing up, and Lucifer isn’t taking it well. Luckily, you’re there to keep the King of Hell standing on two feet.

x: just a short fic about a super soft lucifer who loves his daughter, i had some fun with this haha. reader is g/n and also has a parental role. no use of y/n.

~ 1.5k words

warning: tooth-rotting parental love

“Are you crying, Daddy?” The tiny apple-cheeked figure asked, her head tilted curiously up towards the almost identical-looking porcelain face standing a few feet away from her, his hand over his eyes as he rubbed at them feverishly. 

“No,” He lied, his lips curved into a tight-lipped smile as he bit back tears, “It’s just allergies, Apple Pie.”

Lucifer’s eyes trailed back onto the poofy red dress Charlie wore. The intricate, black lines and little hearts woven into its soft fabric made her even more adorable in the outfit. She also sported snow-white stockings, and a pair of sparkly red shoes that glinted in the light as Charlie smiled giddily, excited about the new adventure.

A small red bowtie was nestled into her hair, which was styled in a large braid that ended at the middle of her back. It swayed softly as the young girl bounced in place, becoming antsy by the second. 

You stood right beside him, smiling happily at Charlie as she looked up at the two of you. It was you who had gotten her ready, no doubt did you think she looked like a beautiful little princess. However, you were not expecting such an emotional reaction from your husband, Lucifer Morningstar, when you presented her outfit to him. 

It was Charlie’s first day of lessons, which means—in Lucifer’s opinion—she was finally leaving the nest. Except for the fact she was still considered just a youngling when it came to being Hellborn, and Charlie still needed her father to read her a story every night before bed. She still has trouble reaching items on the counter, and remembering all the letters of the alphabet. She was far from flying off on her own, she was still her father’s little duckling.

He was already nervous the days leading up to this morning, and you had watched him flip through baby book after baby book. Each contains hundreds of photos depicting from when Charlie was a newborn, and through last Sunday. 

Whenever Charlie so much and breathed cutely, Lucifer was pulling out that camera and saving it for the album. Especially when he got a hold of a yellow duck onesie? The man was a goner, and the bookshelf was beginning to fill with rows of binders filled with polaroids.

Yesterday, you had been in the process of cleaning out a closet of rarely used items, when you stumbled upon a pair of Charlie’s old baby boots. 

Lucifer had just walked into the room when his eyes landed on the tiny boots. They obviously wouldn’t fit the girl now, as she had grown out of them long ago. It definitely stirred something inside the fallen angel when his lip began to quiver from the doorway, and slowly walked over to you sitting on the edge of the bed.

He took the boots from your hands, his thumb brushing softly over the small velcro straps. Charlie was old enough to start wearing laces, and she needed his help getting tying her shoes less and less as the months went by. That thought made him collapse onto you, tears brimming his eyes. 

“She had such adorable little feet!” Lucifer wailed in your lap, as you soothingly petted his hair. There were multiple photos in his hands, all of baby Charlie, “Her toes just don’t look like little sausages anymore, it’s not as cute!”

“At least she’s not a hobbit,” you replied, brushing a stray tear from his face.

“I don’t even know what that means!” He had sobbed.

It wasn’t like she was going off to college or anything, yet the way Lucifer clutched her baby blanket in his free hand—which she only stopped sleeping with 2 days ago—made it seem like the girl was not coming back from a few hours of teachings. 

“I packed you some snacks. Apple slices, and some funnel cake. Eat the fruit first, it’s healthy for you. Want to grow up big and strong, don’t you?” 

“Uh-huh!” Charlie nodded with enthusiasm, smiling brightly.

“That’s my girl,” Lucifer choked back tears, nodding approvingly. 

“Honey, she’s going to be late, hurry up and say goodbye,” you prodded gently, smiling warmly with clasped hands. You had been silently on standby, this was a much more emotional moment for Lucifer than you, he needed the space and time with his munchkin.

“You’re right, you’re right,” he growled softly at himself, “look at me, all worked up over nothing. What a joke of a King.”

Lucifer lowered himself to one knee and reached out a hand, and Charlie walked forward returning the touch. Her tiny hands were engulfed in his palm as he curled his fingers tenderly around them. The fallen angel met his daughter's gaze, before taking a deep breath.

“I love you, Charlie.” 

“I love you too, Daddy,” Charlie laughed, before leaping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. Lucifer pulled her in, nuzzling into her hair as she squeezed him tightly. 

Even if Charlie grew apart from her father as she got older, you’d know she’d always be a daddy’s girl. It was Lucifer whom she invited for tea time among her stuffed animals, and it was he she asked to dance with when the radio’s soft melodies filled the lounge during the evenings as the three of you relaxed by the warm fireplace. 

It made your heart flutter with how similar the two were, and the way Lucifer fawned over Charlie like he’d never seen a more beautiful soul. 

“My best creation,” he had whispered with a smile one night, while the two of you were sitting on the balcony, the alcohol buzzing inside your mind as you held his hand from across the small table. Those words had made your love for him continue to grow, if that were even possible in the first place.

Lucifer and Charlie stayed locked in an embrace for a few moments on the floor before the girl released him, and Lucifer’s arms slowly lowered from her abdomen as she took a few steps back towards the door.

“Go on, now! Don’t let me keep you waiting, just remember to crush it.” Lucifer waved his daughter off, and she jumped with joy.

“Okay! Bye, Daddy!” Charlie giggled, her little red dress bouncing along with her toes as she quickly turned away towards the open door of her room. 

“Have fun, Charlie!” You called after her, as Lucifer slowly rose from his position near the floor.

“I will! Bye!” She replied, running down the hall, her little bag bouncing in her hands as she scampered away to…

…her private tutor’s small classroom at the end of the long hallway. The three of you had been wishing the girl farewell in her large bedroom inside the family manor, which meant Charlie’s teaching wasn't even outside of the home. 

That made Lucifer’s reaction even more humorous, but it was also incredibly sweet. The ruler of Hell, a nasty, bitter place, was a cinnamon roll behind the bad-boy act that he played so well in front of the rest of the realm.

When Lucifer stood straight again, you turned your head to face him. The sight before you caused you to clamp your lips shut tight, trying to suppress your laughter at Lucifer’s disheveled figure.

His hair looked messier than before he had said goodbye, and his face was soaked with tears. Lucifer’s lip quivered, and he quickly averted his gaze, slamming his hand over his face to contain his quiet sobs. The man was practically in shambles. 

“What’s wrong with me?” He groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, “I can’t control my emotions when it comes to Charlie.”

“Sorry to break it to you, Your Highness, but you’re in love,” you cooed, shaking your head with a smile as Lucifer sniffled beside you. He pulled a hand-embroidered handkerchief from his waistcoat, dabbing underneath his eyes to clean the fresh tears. 

“Come on, Lou. How about I make you some pancakes for breakfast?” You said softly, lacing your fingers with his as you tugged him towards the opposite end of the hall. 

“Really?” He sniffled, looking at you with glistening eyes.

“Mhmm,” your hands lifted to cup his face, tenderly squishing those small red spots as you replied with a honeyed tone, “Heaven knows how the ‘Big Boss of Hell’ can be such a softy. Don’t worry, Charlie will be back by lunchtime, and maybe we’ll go on a picnic, hm?”

Your free hand went up toward the fallen angel’s head, and your nails softly grazed his scalp as you pulled his hair back into a more uniform appearance. After fussing with it for a moment, you leaned in and placed a tender kiss on his forehead.

“A picnic sounds nice, I have no idea how you always have a remedy to everything,” He said softly as you pulled away, an adoring smile on his lips as you turned to tug him down the hall.

“Years of practice,” you laughed, as the two of you walked towards the large kitchen, passing loving glances between the other. 

At least, with Charlie away for a few hours, you and your husband could get some alone time together. God knows the poor man needed it. 

lucifer is just so soft for his little princess whether it’s beating the shit out of adam or playing tea party it makes me just 🤭🥴 like damn

hope you enjoyed the lil snack, have a great day! 🤍

tags 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0

[miupow]

⭑𓂃 GETTING STONED W/ TXT .ᐟ ୭ ˚. [ HEADCANONS]

☆〜（ゝ。∂）txt x gn!reader ⋆ cw// drugs/marijuana mentions! sfw, tooth rotting fluff <𝟑 kissing, cuddling, implied established relationships

⤷ what i imagine it's like smoking with the boys . . .

연준 YEONJUN

i imagine him high is a lot like him drunk lol

soft, sleepy, cuddly and just the biggest baby whining that he wants kisses now

likes using your lap as a pillow for his head, the type to nuzzle his face in your belly and wrap his arms tight around you-- won't you play with his hair? tell him what an amazingwonderfulhandsome boyfriend he is?

tries very hard not to fall asleep on you but fails every time

pls take care of him :(

finds the other boys annoying when they're high lol but still does it with them because they're his baby brothers and he loves them no matter how much they piss him off <33

cannot smoke without you because he'd spend the entire sesh going "where's my baby?? i wanna see my baby, i miss them so much :(("

수빈 SOOBIN ⭑𓂃

the kind to just stare blankly at the wall for hours

"bin, you okay?" "uh huh..."

probably gets sensory overload easily, don’t have too much going on at once or he’ll get a headache :<

soogyu is my dream blunt rotation im gonna be honest they're so fucking funny they just be sayin shit

high bin says the some of funniest things you've ever heard in your life but he has no idea he's even being funny

"why are you laughing at me??? :(("

gasps when you tell him you love him even though you tell him every day

“REALLY??? I LOVE YOU TOO!!!”

will get into the dumbest arguments, especially with gyu?? “what do you think would happen if you put a werewolf on the moon…” “what the hell is wrong with you??”

“no, dumbass, that’s not even how ufos work. look it up.”

범규 BEOMGYU ⭑𓂃

true delulu headcanon time here but hear me out okay

he's so crazy adhd brain high energy when he's sober but i feel like when he's stoned he's so. chill?

put a movie on or something and he'll be quiet for hours he's just so transfixed by the moving colors and lights

just wants to cuddle with you in silence or like. talk about deep shit

you honestly kind of love it because you'll have conversations about your future and your relationship that gyu wouldn't take seriously sober

he's very upfront and straightforward with his feelings when he's stoned, which is so unlike him

says some corny shit with stars in his eyes like "i wanna spend forever with you" and then regrets it later because he sounded like a dweeb

he's so whipped for you and he can't hide it :<

let him lay on your chest, playing with his long pretty hair, calling him beomie while he looks up at you with hazy, unfocused but so in love eyes

again soogyu = dream blunt rotation gyu is so funny

“do crabs think fish are flying??” type mf i love him very much

태현 TAEHYUN ⭑𓂃

this might be an unpopular opinion but tyun is absolutely the biggest stoner out of the five of them

i feel like he would smoke to relax, not necessarily to get high-- he's on stress overdrive 24/7, especially during comeback season,, he smokes to finally make his brain go quiet for at least a night

big social smoker but also enjoys smoking alone or just with you

i see him the most like his sober self, quiet and content and not really paying much attention to anything

normally you have to fight him to get his picture taken but when he's stoned he'll just let you shove a camera in his face and you love it sm,, "tyunnie!! baby! smile!"

very content with letting you sit on his lap while he zones out, nuzzling his neck-- he loves feeling needed, loves taking care of you

thinks everyone else is very entertaining, just enjoys watching his brothers act like idiots

he's such a bottled up guy, doesn't like to show or talk about how he's feeling ;; but he'll open up easily once you get him loosened up

휴닝카이 HUENING KAI ⭑𓂃

i want to smoke with this boy so bad. it's not even funny.

he's so cuddly and sweet and giggly,,, i lob him,,

he gets too out of it to kiss you so he makes your plushies kiss eachother instead hehe

kiss his freckles :< just give him so many smooches all over his face while he laughs that it tickles

spooning is a need not a want. he'd rest his chin on the top of your head and hold you soso close while you lay on his bed watching a movie ;;

like soobin he probably gets overstimulated easily,, he needs the lights off and he likes when you wear soft/fuzzy clothes,, ur his plushie now :<

will not let you get up for anything at all. will literally follow you to the bathroom and wait outside of the door like a puppy

SOOO much skinship he needs to touch and be touched so badly

goes totally nonverbal when he's stoned. will not say a word for hours

TUMMY RUBS also lays his head on your belly ;;

thinks literally everything is funny. show him a picture of like. a horse and he'd laugh at it

[lets-bob-michael-blog]

Never Say It Can’t Get Any Worse

Never Say It Can’t Get Any Worse

I often hear people say, “boy it’s bad, but it can’t get any worse.“ Well I’m sorry but it can, and very, very often it does. I recently remarked to my wife, “ I going to stop saying, “Can some people be any more ignorant?”, because these people seem to take it as a challenge. Sadly, today, people are starving right here in the fruited plains, the US, and many more are struggling to decide if…

[stealthetrees]

Fox and the Mandalorian Adoption Instinct VS all the People he’s Stolen from

Rex- biggest rivalry. Fox got all the favorites, Fives, Echo, Dogma, and Tup but that’s only the main characters. The 501st are too chaotic and often end up involved in something top secret and they get a fake death certificate and drafted into the Guard as a result. The collective is referred to as Rex’s Idiots cause they’re too unruly to be trusted anywhere near the senate. Great for off world missions tho. Rex would fight tooth and nail to get them back once he finds out they’re not dead but Corries are too territorial. Anyone who goes back chose to.

Wolffe- very few, and only in extreme cases. Their adopted father/general always wants to get involved in the case and therefore it must be watertight. Avoided at all costs. Causes a huge custody battle after the war. The Clones being fought over have long since accepted having two fathers and are just enjoying the show.

Cody- pissed he never knew bc he didn’t figure it out till he got the memo. “I have your troopers and you can’t have them back finders keepers lol” is just something he opposes on principle. Trusts Fox to be a good dad but still.

Ponds- complains to Windu about it, and when he hints he may have known about Fox’s nonconsensual adoption program he pretends like he did too

Hunter- he don’t get an opinion on this because Fox claims Echo as part of the Domino Twin set and got adopted as collateral. Only a little grumpy about it

Anakin- when he finds out Fox tried to fake Ashokas death to get a second Jedi working for him (Quinlan Vos being the first) he’s not really sure how to feel about about it

Padme- her handmaidens dividing their loyalty equally between Fox and Padme is understandable, and she only tolerates him because he used their help to scam so many people she also worked against. They have a civil negotiation on who gets them on what holidays.

[satangcrush]

the wise sorcerer, solomon

✦ PAIRING: solomon x reader ✦ SUMMARY: reimagined first meeting with solomon & dark!solomon brain rot goes crazy lol ✦ WC: 2.8k

| MASTERLIST

══════════════════

There is no reassurance in the Devildom, at least not for you yet. The fear is always there, an underlying current that thrums through your veins whenever a demon comes in range of you. Sometimes, when you lie awake at night, you wonder if they could smell your distress, if they could hear how your heartbeat races despite your brave front. You often mediate if the promise from the current Devildom ruler would hold strong and you know the fear in your heart does not abade even with his ressurance.

That was when you met Solomon – the Wise Sorcerer as people call him. The demon prince introduced him as a human, but does humans smile the way he does? In your opinion, you don’t quite think he was human at all, his lips curled in a way that made your skin crawl with unease. His eyes bore into your soul and it makes a question rise to the tip of your tongue. You almost want to ask him, what do you see there? 

You don’t ask your question. Instead, you reluctantly accept his handshake. A voice in the back of your mind noted that when his steady hands wraps around yours, the callouses that forms the shape of his life, burn where he touches. And when you look up to meet his perceptive gaze, his laughter, lilting and incomprehensible, fills the room and rings in your head as it encompasses your entire being.

You swallow inaudibly, and unable to hold his stare, you turned to look at the demon prince. From your peripheral vision, Solomon’s gaze darkened almost imperceptibly, as he waits for a reaction. You just don’t know if it’s yours or the demon prince’s that he’s looking for.

Your first meeting with him only left an unending question in the depths of your mind.

.

Time was the only constant in the Devildom, as well as a haunting reminder that you didn’t belong there, that you were ripped away from your own reality. Even as you fought tooth and nail to carve your space into the demon brothers’ lives, you still felt hollow as if something was missing. You often come up blank, confused at this feeling that you can’t quite place your finger on.

You sit by Asmodeus’s side on the bed in his room. Both of you have finished doing the skincare routine that he had prepared – a long time ago, and the now familiar nasally voice of his relaxes your mind as you sink further into the mattress, careful to not smear the product on your face lest he admonishes you.

The soothing voice of his washes over you with a fog, a tell-tale sign that you don’t have the slightest clue of what the Avatar of Lust has been telling you for the past hour. Your thoughts remain hazy and when he asks you that damned question, you mistakenly told him your thoughts on Solomon.

“Hm,” Asmodeus says cordially, a serene smile placed on his porcelain-like face. He stares down at you as he crawls over to pat your face patronisingly, “I can’t have my two favourite humans disliking each other, can I?”

A flicker of panic rises through your haze but Asmodeus tempers your resistance down with a coo. Your gaze only magnetises towards his face and your thoughts fade away as you bask in the full attention from the Avatar of Lust. Only an afterthought stayed in your head, something that sounds suspiciously like a warning bell.

.

Solomon could tell you didn’t like him. Maybe dislike was too strong of a word, but you certainly weren’t pleased to be around him. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. Whenever he was around in your vicinity, you always made an excuse to disappear on him. 

He didn’t get it. Weren’t humans like you and him supposed to stick together? He found it amusing and a little audacious that you much preferred the company of a demon over him. He supposed that humans nowadays are much more interesting than he had given credit for previously. 

The very first time he met you, he could see the reflection of his younger self staring back at him, the expression on your face so painfully human that it had lit a fire in the dark crevices in his heart. The more he interacted with you, the more he wanted to bury himself in every nook and cranny and explore every part of you. Thus, he tries very hard to set himself up to be a trustworthy and reliable character that you can rely on.

Yet, you had deviated from his grand plan and chose to instead find comfort in the brothers. He didn’t understand why. Wasn’t he trying enough? And when he found out that you had done something that he was unable to do – making a pact with the Seven Rulers of Hell, gaining their trust and even becoming their family, he couldn’t help the selfish desire to know more.

 Solomon had lived a very long life and this was far from the first time that someone had caught his interest, but something was different this time. You were an enigma that he wanted to unravel. The burning air in his lungs as he exhaled whenever he was around you tells him so.

He knows it’s fairly evident that he’s selfish and he wants to ruin you. You’re a blank canvas, covered in sin, the honeyed allure of your pact marks drips down your back and marks your descent to hell. The sin sings to him, and he wants to watch the honey trickle through his fingers.

Solomon wonders just exactly what about you intrigues him. It plagues him throughout the day, in his waking moments all the way to when he is in bed. These days, he just couldn’t seem to remember the faces of the people who he had once taken interest in. 

He wonders if the taste of you is as sweet as he had imagined.

.

You bristle lightly at Solomon’s laugh, the sound seeming delicately deceitful falling from his mouth.

Damn it, Asmo. You scowled softly as the Avatar of Lust’s pout popped up again in your mind. If it wasn’t for the promise that Asmodeus had coerced you into making, you would have already made an excuse to leave. Solomon is unsettling and you already feel discomforted by having to be in his presence much less spending a full day with him.

Yet, Solomon was nice. Unnervingly nice to you. This only made the case of him even more puzzling to you. You supposed the reason why you were so on guard around him was because you couldn’t get a read on him. 

Why does he seem inhuman to you? What are his goals? Why, and why on earth is he so curious about you?

You felt vaguely disconcerted in this warm atmosphere, apprehensively glancing around to take in the establishment from where you were seated in the corner booth that the sorcerer had chosen.

A flash of the cafe light falls down the curve of Solomon’s face and you begrudgingly admit that he was sort of pretty, in a sick and twisted way. You sort of want to gag at that admission. In this view, he looks less like the demon you have made him out to be and more like the human that Diavolo had introduced him to be.

A shiver ran down your back as you desperately dug your nails into the palm of your hand to try and starve off the nervousness that you must be sure is rolling off in waves around you.

“So… how are you coping in the Devildom?” Solomon suddenly asks cheerily. You almost jump out of your skin to hiss at him, despite it being your fault for being so over in your head. 

His expression twitches into a frown as the silence continues to extend, voicing your displeasure at the sound of him speaking. Unluckily, he waits for you to answer instead of disappearing from your sight. The itchy urge to talk builds up and finally, you bit out some pleasantries as you nursed a cup of coffee that has now gone cold during your silent wage of war against the sorcerer.

There’s a hint of shiftiness in the set of Solomon’s mouth, and it irks you to no end. You straighten up with a sniff, thoughts running wild with all the despicable and borderline criminal things you want to do to wipe that irritating smile off him. 

“I saw a cat on the way here.” Solomon abruptly announced as he picked up a napkin to wipe at his mouth while offering you the other piece that he had kept at his end of the table. You ignored his outstretched arm, as you raise your gaze from your cup to stare at him.

“Cat?” You repeated, perplexed by his revelation. You hadn’t taken him to be an animal person – you would have believed him if he told you that he was luring cats into his dungeon instead to use as sacrifices. And why was he telling you this? You were convinced that he must have found out from someone that you had a soft spot for strays.

His eyes brighten as he latches onto your response. You watch warily as he digs through his multiple coat pockets to bring out his D.D.D, fingers moving dexterously across the screen to pull up something.

“Her name is Coffee.” He offers as an additional piece of trinket that he waved in front of your face. You suppress the urge to hurl and gingerly take his D.D.D to peer at the picture closer. It was a horrible photo. Unfocused and blurry, you could only see a vague resemblance of a brown creature at the edge of the screen.

“Do you want to see-” 

“No.” You quickly cut him off, anticipating the end of his sentence. You did not want to spend more time than necessary with him, and you already had plans with Levi for an anime watch party back at the House of Lamentation.

You vowed to yourself that you would never spend time with the sorcerer alone again.

.

“Isn’t she cute?” 

You look down at the fluffy lump at your feet, squinting at the sorcerer who is currently petting the brown cat. Unfortunately, you had to acknowledge that the sight was rather cute and you had to fend off the urge to take a memento from your perspective.

“...Yes.” You similarly squatted down to start scratching the cat under her chin. It’s beside the point, that yes, you had lamented at the thought of spending more time with Solomon but here you are, knocking knees with him in a picture of domestic bliss with some stupid stray that he had seen on the street.

In some sort of incredulousness at your situation, you paused in your movement in petting the cat as your mouth opened. And before any sense of self-preservation could kick you in the face, you blurted out, “Why do you keep trying to get close to me?”

Solomon pulls his hand away from the cat as if he were burnt – shifting his weight to face you as you backed away from his gaze until you hit the wall behind you. “Am I not allowed to?” Your face scrunches up into one of confusion and you could see it mirrored back on his stupid pretty face.

A few moments of silence stretched out between the two of you as you floundered for a response. “Do you not want me to talk to you?” Solomon repeats, and in the corner of your eyes, you faintly register the furry brown creature yawning and stretching out behind him.

He looks at the wall behind you, giving you time to think. You bit your bottom lip as the full intensity of his gaze falls back on you, making you wish that the ground could open up and swallow you whole. “I don’t know.” You finally admitted as your face burns with the unadulterated idiocy of your statement.

“Have I done something to you?” He questions distantly, a far-away look in his eyes. He looks at you with something akin to uncertainty, and he shuffles a step back to give you space. This time, you forced yourself to deliberate slowly before you could bark out something stupid again.

“No.” Your voice was strained as you answered, “No, you did nothing to me.” This time, the awkwardness was palpable in the air and you could almost feel the guilt start to set into you with that awful feeling as if you had stepped on a puppy’s tail and it was now whining for help.

In silence, Solomon stood up while dusting the front of his black slacks which were littered full of cat fur. On a regular day, you would have taken this chance to shove this image into the corner of your mind that you reach for when you need something to laugh at. But now, you kept your downward gaze on his loafers as you are once again reminded of the fact that you had caused this situation and why, oh why, did you not shut the hell up when you had the chance to.

“Do you hate me?” His voice, full of doubt, cuts through your self-depreciation haze and you immediately cringed at the almost-near truth. Your hands immediately flew up to grab onto the fabric of his pants, as you paused to give yourself the chance to come up with some justification.

“N-no!” Even you could tell that your tone wasn’t convincing in the least and you could also see that Solomon doesn’t believe you either, “It’s my fault, I’m sorry.” You glanced to the side, face pained as you wrangled the apology out from your throat. Another minute passes and you force yourself to look at Solomon, giving your best impression of a wounded puppy, in hopes that he would actually accept your invitation of a peace offering. 

He frowns down at you instead, “I don’t understand why you dislike me, especially considering we are the only two humans here,” He admits, and that actually sent a pang of guilt straight to your heart. “I was hoping to get to know you better so we could rely on each other.” His voice had shifted to a softer, sadder tone and it made you writhe in discomfort.

You groaned, letting go of his pants in favour of shoving a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry, okay! I know I’m messed up for disliking you without a reason, but you’re just… so weird!” This time, you fully stood up with your lips pressed together into a straight line as you once again avoided looking at him. 

“Are you trying to apologise or insult me?” He said sourly, brows pinched together as if he had smelt something bad. When you turned to look at him, he had his arms folded across the front of his chest with one hand brought up to his chin.

“It’s unfair for me to feel this way, I know! I’ll fix it okay, I’m seriously really sorry for judging you,” You winced, before hurriedly adding on, “I’ll pay for the next outing! Don’t be mad at me, I know I was wrong,” Your plea trailed off into a mumble as you fixed him with a hopeful gaze.

You held your breath as another few seconds passed before you heard him sigh, “Apology accepted, next time don’t avoid me and just… talk to me okay?” Solomon brings his knuckle up to knock on the side of your head, ignoring your insulted gasp. “Do you want to see another stray?” 

You nod animatedly in agreement, desperate to make up for your misgivings. You peered past him only to realise that the brown cat you had initially come here for, had long disappeared into the dark alley behind Solomon.

As you tried to walk past him, the sorcerer stared at you with an unreadable smile and offered his hand for you to hold. For some reason, your heart started to beat faster and you couldn’t help but question yourself.

This was the right thing to do, right?

.

Solomon almost wants to laugh. He certainly didn’t think that you would bring this up by yourself. He had long crafted a plan to get closer to you but surprisingly, you had flipped that metaphorical table upside down and started playing fetch instead.

He hummed. You really were interesting, and that made him crave you even more. Whatever he has with you – It’s not nearly enough to curb his curiosity. He wants to breathe you in and learn exactly what makes you tick.

And maybe, just maybe, he could finally learn why exactly you intrigued him so much.

══════════════════

a/n▸ i was too ambitious writing this without a plan and now im tired. (note to self to have an outline before writing anything concrete 🫠)

[wosoimagines]

Alone - Arsenal W.F.C./Reader

prompt: R, one of the newest signings, is going to be alone for the holidays.

warnings: none

words: 2313

(Y/N) POV

I tried not to pay attention as the rest of the team discussed their own holiday plans. I really did try to make sure that it didn’t get to me. I hadn’t celebrated any holidays in such a long time that it normally didn’t faze me.

Maybe it was because I was already starting to see the rest of the team as my own family. Or because I had grown so used to seeing some of my teammates every day and I knew that I wouldn’t get to see any of them during the holidays like I currently was able to.

“What about you, Yankee?”

I scowled at the nickname as I sent Katie a glare. It didn’t even make sense considering I wasn’t a Yankee fan or from the North.

“Thought I told you not to call me that.”

“Oh, come on, Yankee Doodle!”

Before I could say anything else, I felt someone nudge my shoulder.

“What are you doing for next week?” Lotte asked. I furrowed my brow because I wasn't entirely sure what she meant. “Don’t we have a game on Thanksgiving? I’m sure the team’s granted you a leave to go spend it with your family.”

“Why would they do that?” I asked.

It wouldn’t have made sense for the team to give me leave, especially when I didn’t ask for one.

“Next week would be when fall break is,” Alessia pointed out causing me to turn my head to where the blonde striker was sitting. I had honestly forgotten that Alessia and Lotte would both know when Thanksgiving was due to their time in America. “Don’t you want to go home and spend Thanksgiving with your parents?”

I only gave a small shrug. I’d much rather play on Thanksgiving Day than spend it with my family. I especially didn’t want to be ignored on a day that was supposed be enjoyed with your family.

“You don’t want to see your family?” Kyra asked as she tilted her head to the side. “I thought that was like the whole point of Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah, well, it’s not that fun when you’re the one who has to cook everything and then everyone wants to complain about it all being made wrong,” I said as I turned away from the team so that I could put my shoes up. “Even better is when everyone ignores you if they’re not complaining about your cooking.”

“(Y/N)…”

“Real great considering that last year I tried to tell everyone that I was gonna accept a scholarship to play with UNC only for everyone to ignore me and tell me to shut up,” I continued as if I hadn’t heard Beth. “Then turn around after everyone leaves and your parents explode on you telling you there’s no way you can go to college because you’re supposed to turn pro so that you can pay them back for everything they did to make sure you succeeded as if I didn’t have to fight them tooth and nail to get them to support me.”

“You were going to be a Tar Heel?”

My eyes met Alessia’s before I nodded.

Where I was looking at going to college had been heavily debated with my own national team. Everyone had their own opinions of where I should go except for Lindsey and Mal since they both had skipped college to turn pro immediately out of high school. But that wasn’t what I had wanted. I wanted to go to college so that I could get my degree because I knew that I wouldn’t be playing forever.

Thankfully, Arsenal had offered to support me through my studies. It wasn’t exactly what I had wanted, but it did give me the ability to get away from my family.

Still, I was upset that I hadn’t been able to go to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill like I had dreamed of. UNC had been my favorite college ever since I had discovered who Tobin Heath was and I had wanted to follow in her footsteps as well. So much so that I had even reached out to her when I joined the national team to make sure that she was okay with me wearing the number seventeen like she did.

“Hey, (Y/N), you know you can talk to us about anything that’s going on, right?” Viv started to say as she moved closer to me. “You don’t have to shut –“

“What I would like is for you all to drop it. I’m a big girl. I don’t need any of you to coddle me like I’m some child.”

I pushed past Viv as I headed out of the locker room. I knew it was harsh and that I’d have to apologize later, but I just didn’t want to deal with it right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m sorry.”

Viv looked over her shoulder at me. I had been avoiding her since we got into it late last week. It hadn’t been too hard to avoid the Dutch striker since she gave me my space.

“You were just trying to help me, and I was a bitch.”

“We shouldn’t have tried pushing you so hard.” Viv shrugged before turning around to actually face me rather than just look over her shoulder at me. “We aren’t trying to coddle you. But it’s hard being your age and being away from the only support system you’ve ever known. We just want to make sure that you know we’re all here for you.”

“I really do appreciate it,” I admitted. Viv sent me a soft smile. “I guess it’s just weird since I’ve never had a support system. My parents got me into soccer to keep me busy after school ended so that they didn’t have to pick me up as early in the afternoon. And it wasn’t like either of them were actually happy to make sure that I did as good as I could with soccer until I got called up to the national team.”

“First off, it’s football. That’s the first thing we’re going to have to fix,” Viv corrected causing me to let out a laugh. It had been an argument we often had during training as I had yet to start calling it anything other than soccer. “Second off, I’m always going to be here for you. It won’t ever matter if you leave Arsenal or if I do. I’ll always have your back. Got it?”

“Got it,” I saluted Viv, “Dad.”

Viv rolled her eyes at that. I had been hanging around Laura lately.

“And third off, you stop hanging around Laura so much.”

“Oh, come on,” I said as I followed behind Viv as we both moved to get back into the line that was warming up. “You and Beth are totally parents to Laura now. And you’re definitely the dad.”

“How do you figure that?”

“You just have Dad Vibes.”

I wasn’t sure how to explain it, but Viv really did have all the Dad Vibes. It just made sense once you hung around Beth and Viv long enough.

“So, are you coming tomorrow?”

I furrowed my brow as Beth joined the two of us. I wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

“I hadn’t asked yet.”

My eyes darted between Viv and Beth. I wasn’t sure what either of them were talking about.

“If you really want to make it up to me,” Viv started as Beth grinned at me, “you’ll come over tomorrow for lunch.”

“For lunch?”

“Yeah, for lunch.”

I shrugged at that. I didn’t really have any plans for tomorrow, but I wasn’t sure that I would actually want to do something. Especially with it being so close to Thanksgiving.

“I don’t know.”

“None of that,” Viv said as she shook her head. I sighed as my shoulders slumped forward. There was no way that I was going to get out of this. “Lunch tomorrow at mine and Beth’s.”

“Fine. Lunch at your place tomorrow.”

Beth grinned before she ruffled my hair and took off to join some of the others. Viv only smiled as she threw an arm around my shoulder and pulled me along the line we were in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Has Viv started to Dad you yet?” Laura asked as she took a seat next to me on the couch. Both of us looked over to where Viv was cooking in the kitchen with Beth watching. “Or has Beth been able to Mom you yet?”

“They keep trying,” I admitted. Neither Viv or Beth would let me help them cook. Viv wasn’t even letting Beth help. “Beth asked me today if I was eating enough.”

“Yeah, they’ll grow on you.”

The two of us fell into silence as we turned our attention back to the game that was playing on the tv.

“What are they even cooking?” I asked causing Laura to look at me. “They wouldn’t tell me, and Viv has forbidden me from going into the kitchen.”

“I’ve been sworn to secrecy,” Laura said before she pretended to zip her mouth shut. I frowned as I gave her a shove. “Mom! (Y/N)’s being mean to me.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Can we put them up for adoption?”

Both Laura and I whipped our heads around to look at Beth as we cried out in complaint. Beth only stuck her tongue out at us as we both grumbled. Neither of us had any real time to respond though as there was a knock at the door.

I furrowed my brow at that. Laura being here wasn’t too surprising considering that Viv and Beth had taken young defender in when she tore her ACL. But no one had told me that others would be coming over.

“Get the door?”

“Why me? You’re their kid.”

“You are too! And you’re not injured.”

I rolled my eyes at that. I was hardly Viv and Beth’s kid. I couldn’t wait for Laura to get back to training with the rest of this so that she wouldn’t be able to use her injury as an excuse. I got up though and got the door.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Alessia said as soon as I opened the door. I tilted my head in confusion at that. Thanksgiving had definitely been yesterday, but I also had no idea why she was here. “The others aren’t that far behind me.”

I hadn’t even realized that it seemed like the rest of the team was either behind Alessia or getting out of their own cars or pulling down the road. Alessia pushed past me as she ruffled my hair. It wasn’t until a few more of our teammates made their way inside that I finally left where I was standing at the door to move further inside.

“What’s going on?”

Viv and Beth grinned at me before Viv bent down to pull something out of the oven.

“Thanksgiving lunch,” Beth announced once I could see the turkey that Viv had pulled from the oven.

I shook my head with a small chuckle, but I moved to help Viv get everything plated up and presented as she pulled a ham out of the oven as well.

“What all did you make?” Katie asked as she was the last one who came inside.

“All of the traditional foods for Thanksgiving,” Viv said as she motioned to everything. “At least according to Google.”

“You did a pretty good job,” I told her as I looked at everything we had out. “Oh! I call dibs on the wishbone!”

“The what?”

“You don’t know what a wishbone is?” I asked as I turned to look at Kyra. She shook her head and I huffed. “Every turkey has a wishbone. We’ll find it when we carve the turkey. Once the meal is done, two of us will make a wish and we’ll break the wishbone. Whoever has the bigger piece will have their wish come true and good luck for the next year.”

“And how many of your wishes have ever come true?” Kyra asked as she nudged my shoulder before she reached and tried to steal some of the stuffing only for Viv to slap her hand away.

“I’ve never gotten to break the wishbone before,” I admitted. It was usually my cousins who got to break the wishbone.

“Can I break it with (Y/N) since Dad cooked?” Laura asked.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Yeah, whatever, Dad.”

I snorted at Viv’s scowl. My attention was drawn away as I was quick to catch the football that had been tossed my way.

“Hey! Not near the food!”

Viv’s scowl had turned from Laura to Lotte who was guilty of tossing the football.

“You brought a football?” I asked her.

Lotte shrugged as she threw an arm around Alessia’s shoulders. I knew that they were both probably the most familiar with Thanksgiving and the traditions we had with the holiday since they were the two who had actually gone to college in the States.

“Figured you could show us how to throw it since the big football game was on yesterday,” Lotte explained.

“And then we can make plans for Christmas,” Alessia added. I furrowed my brow at that. I knew that we would be having some kind of party for the team, but we still had time to plan it. “Cause Mum already told me that I have to bring you with me.”

“Wait, what?”

“Well, I was telling Mum how you weren’t going to spend the holidays with your family cause they were assholes and she told me that I have to bring you,” Alessia explained. Alessia’s mom wanted me to join them for Christmas. “And before you try to say no, Mum has already told me that you are not weaseling your way out of it. So, you will be coming to the Russo Family Christmas.”

[thegnomelord]

CH 1: With a Spark It Starts Just Like It Ended

CW: NSFW Blood, gore, cannon typical violence, M reader but can be read as GN, Mage reader, Monster 141 AU, reader is described as having thick fucked up arms.

AO3 3.7k words, more of an intro to what's to come lol.

Old man Abdul had lived a good life. A harsh one. But a good one.

He was amongst the first to grab a gun and raise the fight against the Russians, risking life and limb for the freedom of Urzikstan even as members of his pack bled and died to artillery fire and noxious gas. And he alone had survived to see his country set free of tyranny and chose to stay in the military long after his hair had greyed.

And how was he rewarded for his service?

With a 'promotion' to guard the basement of a conference hall. They even called it the 'Peace House' as if that made his position grander, though in his humble opinion the only peaceful thing happening within the halls above was the lack of physical violence.

"Hey, did you fall asleep on me old man?" Taim, a bright eyed and gap-toothed human private so young he could've been one of his grandsons, asks as he throws down five playing cards on the floor between them. Royal flush, again.

Old man Abdul's eyes are soft with a glare and he throws down his own cards, already knowing he'd lost. "Go fish." He huffs, leaning back into the chair they'd been able to squirrel away.

It was embarrassing to think that boredom could torture him more than the Russians did, but they were only a few hours into their shift and he was already thinking of biting a bullet. Chances were they'd stay down here long after the diplomats up top finished bickering about who knows what...

"Hey," Taim perks up, and from the few weeks he's known him, Abdul knows the glint in his brown eyes heralds something stupid. "How about whoever loses this round takes a shot from your leg?"

He is proven correct.

"How about I throw you into a minefield so we can match?" Old man Abdul responds, his tail wagging from side to side. His tail looks more at home on a rat than any werewolf, the fur there an accidental casualty of a Russian fire mage's spell that had taken his leg off. The prosthetic leg only fitting on his human body isn't nearly as insulting as the warding totem they'd given him to protect against lethal magic after his leg had gone flying.

Taim gulps and holds his hands up. "There's no need for that sir." He quickly adds, clearing his throat and reaching to the floor to pick up their cards and shuffle them.

Taim's warding totem slips out from beneath his jacket, but it's different from old man Abdul's. Not in appearance, with the same materials every mage will make theirs differently, but in feel. It feels different...wrong.

Eyes narrowing he reaches out and holds the piece of faintly glowing rock between his claws. Heat radiates into his fingers, the magic inside pulsing in a steady even thrum like a machine instead of beating like a heartbeat; like something not quite alive.

Abdul had been in combat long enough to know how good a warding totem is with how his body reacts to it.

The shit one he'd been given barely gets the remaining fur on his tail to bristle.

Taim's makes his skin want to melt off.

"Where did you get this?" Abdul asks, tail curling up as he lets go of the totem with disgust clear on his face. "That rock could probably protect you from L3 mage without cracking, maybe even L4." Call him paranoid, but a private getting a totem to protect him from mages rarer than unicorns doesn't make any sense.

"Oh, that-" The young man clears his throat, the totem laying flat against his chest like an insult to life. "Came from up top a few days ago, guess all those terror attacks spooked command and they want to keep us normal people safe." He realizes his words and quickly adds. "-not that I'm calling you not normal or anything sir, it's just that-"

"-You're squishier than me, yes, I know." Old man Abdul rolls his eyes, leaning back into his chair with a huff.

Taim gives a nervous little giggle, scratching at his curly dark hair. "No offence sir. It's just...you know."

"We all look out for our kinfolk first." Old man Abdul sighs, going to wave him off.

His pointy ear twitches and immediately he's jumping to his feet when his sensitive hearing picks up the sound of the elevator mechanism running. No one is supposed to come down at this time, and Abdul already has his rifle raised to point at the elevator doors by the time Taim is able to get to his own feet. The old werewolf doesn't even need to say anything for the young man to stand on opposite side of him, they work together well, both guns aimed at the person revealed by the opening elevator doors.

It's just the janitor.

Taim lets out a small breath and lowers his gun, relaxing as the janitor gives them a small greeting both of them have to strain their ears to hear as a face mask muffles their words.

"That was a bit embarrassing." Taim chuckles weakly, nodding his own greeting and taking a step back so the janitor can push the heavy cart past them. Abdul notes the janitor's hands are thick and large, the veins poking out beneath latex gloves. Murky water sloshes inside the mop bucket, the trash bag filled to the brim and budging.

It's just a janitor.

But like an annoying tick on his ass, something doesn't let old man Abdul relax.

There's a buzz in the back of his mind like the one he'd get when he was being watched, and when he catches sight of the janitor's eyes beneath the wide-brimmed cap that buzzing stops; Instead replaced with a flash sense of wrongness in his bones and the feeling of tar inside his heart and an indescribable scent — like stale beer and burnt grass and deep dark rot — it has his fingers moving to the trigger before the sight of magic melting through latex can make the short trip from his eyes to his brain—

Glowing lines spring into thin air to form magic circles before their eyes.

The warding totems shatter.

'Pop' goes a head.

Both bodies drop to the ground.

"Could have told me there was a dog." Your words scrape against your throat like shards of glass from the disuse, melted latex stretching into long strands as you take off the cleaner gloves and throw them away, your fingers steaming and glowing hot with mana before you hide them away in tactical gloves.

"I-" Taim tries to say but his voice fails him, eyes and mind still blinded by the harsh glare of magical fire.

"Save it." You cut him off, pulling open the lip of the trash bag to dig out your facemask helmet. It's both a full face helmet and a gasmask, scratched up from years of use but still able to protect your head while keeping you anonymous. A shame it can't filter out the stench of burnt flesh, but you've gotten used to it.

Taim's vision clears and the moment his eyes settle on the charred remains of Abdul's head— the hollowed out skull where concentrated flame had burned a hole straight through everything in it's path, the flesh and bone charred black —he's scrambling away as fast as his feet can push him, the shattered remains of your warding totem crumbling beneath his fingers. Bile rises in his throat and he coughs when he breaths in, but his stomach is thankfully empty so he ends up dry heaving.

"On your feet." Your words are hard to understand under your gasmask, but you don't need to raise your voice. The tone you use has him scrambling to his feet in seconds.

"I- I- yes sir!" Taim manages to stutter out, doesn't even have to fake his fear as he stands at attention. He watches you reach into the dirty water to pull out a Handheld Personal Computer and shake off the residual droplets to ensure it still works before putting it in your pocket.

"When is the next check in?" You ask, reaching further into the trash bag to grasp the handhold on the heavy gas canister hidden beneath office trash. You pull it out without much effort, setting it carefully on the ground so you can recheck that the release valve is intact.

"20 minutes sir." Taim responds and he doesn't need to know Arabic to know what's inside the canister when a grinning skull is printed on the metal.

You let out a low sound, and Taim tries not to peer too closely at you. Sometimes he wonders what face a person who burns people alive without a single second of hesitation could have, but then you look at him and he sees that unnatural glow of mana in your eyes behind the darkened lenses of the helmet and he's glad he's met with the emotionless visage of the mask rather than the one beneath it.

"You have 10 to get out before Hell opens up." You say, standing back up and picking up the canister without complaint. "Use the emergency tunnels, don't spook the VIPs."

Taim is human, not sensitive to magic like the monsters are, but even he can feel the latent mana in your veins that strengthens your body. Like maggots at the back of his skull. It makes a second round of bile rise to his throat. "Yes sir."

You pay close attention to him until he disappears down the corridor before going the opposite way. Alone, it is easier to calm the lingering heat in your veins until the eternal engine of mana in your chest fizzles down to embers like a sleeping beast. Can't have your mana mess with sensitive electronics, even if that does leave you exposed on the cams (as if there's anyone alive to watch them)

"Ifrit, status?" The small radio in your ear crackles.

"Moving to the target, encountered and neutralized a wolf." You answer, taking sharp turns as you follow a path you'd memorized beforehand. "No other monsters to report."

You were lucky to run into one down in the bowels of the conference hall instead of at the front gate. Otherwise your espionage mission would have turned into a frontal assault. Not that Khaled would have minded, you were getting paid to send a loud statement after all.

"Good." You don't need to see his face to know he's smirking, your employer wasn't a huge fan of subhumans. "Continue to the objective."

You respond in affirmative, coming to a heavy metal door, locked with a passcode and even a palm scanner; It's all a valiant effort to keep sensitive data safe, but it may as well be cardboard to you. You summon another circle, this time right on the door, biting your tongue. You're not good with 'subtle' but you haven't forgotten what Taurus or Sierra had taught you; first pushing a bit of loose ash magic between the large atoms making up the metal to disrupt the bonds, then a single pulse of fire ignites the volatile ash and has the entire bottom half crumbling into red hot shards.

Molten slag drips down to the floor when you duck down under the remaining half of the door to find yourself in the server room. Steam rises when the cold air meets your hot skin, but you hardly notice as you first head to the ventilation system at the back of the room. It's dark, but you don't bother turning on the lights, the subtle mana in your eyes enough to give you primitive night vision.

"Ifrit to Alpha-Actual, connecting the payload right now." You say, setting the canister down. The ventilation collects the air from the server room to push it through the entire building and then outside, so all you have to do is melt a hole through the exit pipe until it's big enough for the hose on the canister to fit snugly inside.

"And the files?" Khaled's voice sounds in your ear once you're finished.

"Going now." Standing back up you head to the central server. Taking out the HPC you hook it up to the mainframe, watching the screen until it shows 'connection secure'. "I'm connected."

"Copy that." Your eyes scan the cracked screen (which you broke less than a week after getting it), seeing the file transfer start before Khaled even finishes speaking and trying to read and memorize the names of dozens the files but they change too quickly. "File transfer ETA 5 minutes. Sit tight."

Giving confirmation you keep an eye on the doorway. Though you are positioned in such a way that you'd see the shadow of someone coming in before they see you, years of being behind enemy lines and acting as a friendly to your foes has taught you to be careful. Especially when you can't use more than a smidgeon of mana without frying the entire server system.

You are lucky that no-one comes, the remaining guards too busy guarding the diplomats above you to check what's beneath their noses. While waiting you access the public stream to watch the peace talks, setting the sound to the lowest possible setting so you can keep an eye on the diplomats in case you need a change of plan.

"Got the files, you're clear to finish." You're moving before Khaled can finish speaking, leaving the HPC to hang by the cord from the server. "Oh, and remember: Loud."

"You get what you pay for sir." Kneeling down next to the gas canister you check to ensure your gas mask is firmly on and breathing in deeply; It restricts your breathing and makes muscles work harder, but your body is so used to it that it feels like coming back home.

"Letting the gas out now." Even with the gas mask you still hold your breath when you open the valve, the gas hissing as it escapes the canister, the fan right next to you helping push it through the system. You know there's not enough gas to reach the diplomats on the top floor, it's part of the plan, so when the gas pitters out you cast another circle inside the pipe.

The servers around you flicker meekly and crackle with electricity when you use your mana fully; Something intense and suffocating burns behind your sternum for just a second before liquid mana is rushing down your veins into your hands and coming out through the magic circle as copious amounts of ash.

The rotating fan right next to you spews some of your ash right back at you, flooding the server room in magic that has long since accepted your body enough not to hurt you. But even your seasoned stomach feels tight when you breathe in the mixture of ash and toxic gas, the chemicals turning your magic a nasty shade of green, and you make a mental note to change the filter when you're done with the op otherwise the toxified sediment collecting in there will poison you for months.

You can hear the diplomats begin to cough over the livestream in the HPC, but it all feels so distant when you shift and feel cold dog tags press against your burning chest. They're light like a noose around your neck, yet the absence of weight mocks you in a way their owners no longer can.

There's a familiar sting in your bones when your mana reservoir begins dwindling, but it's easy to push through it until the engine in your chest goes into overdrive from the stress the magic puts on your body. You only stop when the burning mana in your veins starts burning small holes in the sleeves of the janitor jacket, revealing bits of your mage marked skin.

Stopping the flow of ash your hands find themselves in your pocket, taking out a lighter. It's one of those old zippo lighters, the exterior is rusted from years of action and numerous initials are scratched into the metal, but somehow it still functions; It's the strange thing about it— the more you use it, the longer it lasts. Stop, and it dies.

"It's a bit like you, firebug."

Absentmindedly you trace the scratched initials in the metal, trying to ignore the hollowness in your chest when the screams beyond the smokescreen of ash start sounding familiar.

"Going dark." You say to them, flicking it open.

One spark is all it takes.

. . .

With Makarov having gone underground like a wanker after his escape from the gulag, Price and Laswell had been stuck with their heads in mountains of paperwork searching for the bastard. Price had known he'd be in for a headache the moment he agreed to let the boys watch a live football game between England and Scotland, but he reasoned they'd all been working hard enough to earn even a small break.

At the very least it gave them all a moment of reprieve from the stress of a possible world war.

It didn't stop Soap from being a bloody muppet.

"Oh fockin' 'ell!" Soap roars and jumps to his feet, growling at the teli where a ref held a red card above her head. "That should've been a yellow! Fock, one more eye and the ref's a right cyclops." He waves obscenities at the teli as if the ref can see them, his tail hitting Gaz every time it wagged.

"Soap!" Gaz groans and stretches one black wing to smack the werewolf over the head with his long flight feathers to stop him blocking the screen.

Though Gaz's wings are hollow, the smack still hurts. "Ow, what's that for?" Soap groans, rubbing the back of his head.

"At least take your defeat with a wee bit of dignity." Gaz smirks, folding his wings.

"Bold assumption he has any." Ghost mutters next to Price, making him chuckle.

“Oh ho! I’ll get me dignity when the bloody ref gets off 'er knees an’ stops blowing the entire game.” Soap turns to playfully snap his teeth at Gaz. "And what's tha-"

The football match cuts out, replaced with a news segment.

"-Oh, what the fock?" Soap grows quiet when the newscaster begins speaking.

"We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you breaking news. As we speak, the conference hall in Al Mazra, where diplomats from over 40 countries had come to discuss peace and trade agreements with the newly reinstated Urzikstan government, burns in the flames of another terrorist attack."

The footage shifts to a drone filming a bird's eye view shot of violent flames spewing from every hole and window to engulf the entire three story building in consuming fire, heavy plumes of smoke rising into the sky like a maw of a hungering beast to spew a storm of ash and cinders down to the ground. The clouds of ash have a sick green undertone to them.

"Shit." Gaz sucks in a breath.

"Mokarov's done hiding." Ghost notes, leaning in to look closely at the screen with narrowed eyes.

"How the fock did we miss this?" Soap asks the question in their minds, turning to look at Price. "This popped up like bloody whack-a-mole."

At that same time Price's phone rings. The dragon quickly fishes it out of his pocket, seeing Laswell's name as the caller ID before he picks it up while the reporter drawls on.

"Price, are you-"

"Yeah, I'm watching the teli." He cuts her off, knowing what she's going to say. Distantly he can hear the same news report sounding on her end.

"Authorities warn citizens to vacate the immediate area as toxic gas has been detected in the air. Military forces are already enroute, but the prospects for the diplomats survival are nonexistent."

Price's draconic eyes focus on the screen when the footage shifts to that inside the conference hall. Two diplomats argue about something Price can't begin to try and untangle, his focus on one man near the back who begins coughing. More follow suit, and even over the screen Price can tell the signs of toxic gas inhalation by the way more diplomats begin wheezing and coughing wetly.

"This isn't the Russians." Kate says after Price has put her on speaker.

"How come? Looks like some terrorist shite Makarov would pull." Johnny says, his tail curled up and the tip wagging occasionally as he pays attention to the screen.

Seconds later plumes of blackish-green smog erupt from the vents above the diplomats, spewing out with such force it knocks the the camera and the man behind it down to the ground. Ash Magic, Price realizes when he sees smoldering cinders drift almost peacefully in the all consuming fog. Seconds later something causes a spark and the volatile ash magic explodes.

"Ash mage." Ghost grunts, "Just great."

"Makarov doesn't use mages." Price says, scratching his beard.

"No, but Al-Asad does." Kate's voice drifts through the silent room as they watch several APC's arrive on the scene, armored soldiers exiting. But without any monsters who can stomach the heat like Price and with the fog of ash so thick it could be cut with a knife, the best they can do is secure the perimeter. "The CIA intercepted his broadcast before it went public, this is just the start."

Gaz hops off the couch, crossing the small distance to tap one claw at the screen. "What is that?" He asks. Seemingly hearing him, the drone camera focuses on where the main entrance of the building had been.

A dark silhouette of a person can be seen in the flames, growing darker and more refined until finally a featureless helmet emerges from the flames, a deep glow emanating from behind the lenses. It's followed by a body, clothes burnt away in some parts but the flesh beneath unharmed. Price can tell immediately it's a mage by the state of the arms — even from far away it's easy to tell the mage marks, the skin turned rough and dark like cooled magma, veins brimming with volatile mana.

Before the soldiers can fire a single bullet you lift one hand up, the dark mage marks turning to bright like fresh lava when mana flows from your chest to your fingers. A magic circle etches itself into the ground in an instant, so large the surrounding buildings fall into it's perimeter.

And with a second motion of your hand everything erupts into an all consuming cloud of ash.

Laswell's voice rings out. "That's Khaled's new attack dog."

Price and Ghost share a look, both know what will happen long before some nervous soldier caught in the ash cloud pulls the trigger. The cloud of ash explodes the second a spark is created in a weapon's chamber, plunging everything into chaos.

Great, a new wanker to worry about.

Price sighs, brows furrowing. "That's trouble all right."

Tag list: @resident-cryptid @diejager @lovingtyrantkitten @lieutnt

Masterlist <- Chapter 1 (you are here) -> Chapter 2

You can imagine the helmet however you want, but it's in the style of the Devtac Ronin helmet.