#and halfway through the night he was like

[saltwaterburns]

I walked with you once upon a dream

warnings: astronomically large usage of the word "laugh", "whine" and "blush". not proofread ?? kinda ?? found this in my notes #fuckitweball

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

a/n: Part 2? 😊

The night had been unforgiving on you. You tossed and turned under your blanket, the wooly cover being too thick at one point and too thin at another. Every time you closed your eyes, they rolled back uncomfortably and as soon as you somehow managed to get somewhat comfortable, a song your friend had been singing the day began to play on loop in your mind, haunting you.

Finally, you somehow managed to succumb into a half awake half asleep state, but it seemed like Merlin wasn't done with you just yet.

Your mind was plagued by at least three different dreams, each one stranger than the last. War, pregnancy, the muggle movie Avatar all made a fashionable appearance, and thats why currently you're sat at the Hufflepuff table, your hair nearly not neat enough as you'd like it to be, your eyelids swollen and heavy, your under eyes tinted purple.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Cedric chirps happily as he slides into the seat next to you, his plate filled with his usual breakfast: toast and some grapes. Usually, you'd greet him right back, giving him a tight hug before discussing over both of your classes for the day, whining over the homework.

Today isn't an usual day, though. You manage to give him a small smile, weak enough to be called a grimace, even. His face is instantly taken over by a frown, his hand placed upon your forehead.

"Are you well, love? Did you manage to catch a bug of sorts?" He says, his worried expression reminding you of a mother hen. You can't help but let out a soft laugh at the thought, his worry replaced by an eye roll.

"Laughin' at me, are you now? Pffft, and to think I was worried," he huffs like a first year, offering you a glare. You've always been exceptionally good at reading people's eyes, though, so you see through his act instantly, the playful glint giving it away.

"No, mother hen Cedric. I'm fine, I just kept tossing and turning alllllll night," you giggle, the lovely sound turning into a groan halfway through. You cover your face with your hands, rubbing slow circles over your eyelids, the colourful shapes of all sizes giving you little relief.

Cedric starts going off about how you need to sleep earlier, get those very much needed 8 hours but you tune him out (like always), looking around the Great Hall instead. Most people are groggy while eating their breakfast, leaning their heads on their friends' shoulders, lids half shut.

Your eyes unconsciously drift over to the Slytherin table, curiously taking a peek at their expressions. People are wary of them, everyone knows that. Their mean faces and cold eyes leave little to the imagination, making most people grasp their wands tighter whenever walking past them.

You know better. You see better. You see their faces; their eyes bright and shining, their mouth's pulled into smiles despite the early morning hours, laughter echoing from all around the long table. It brings a smile to your face. You've always been fond of them, to everyone's surprise. You've managed to make quite a few surprising friends, too. Draco, Pansy, Blaise, Enzo, Mattheo, and Theodore.

Theodore Nott. You say his name with a dreamy sigh even in your thoughts. He's sole reason your heart skips a few beats whenever you're looking over at their table, the sole reason you check your lipstick and mascara before hanging out with them, the sole reason you've bought a new, ridiculously overpriced perfume to spray on whenever you know he'll be near.

Most would call this a silly little crush, but you swear on Merlin's beard you're in love. You're completely infatuated with that dark haired boy. He's fascinating, only speaking a few words every so often to express his opinion. He's not shy, by all means. You're smart enough to realise that. He observes, not interrupting unless necessary. You're pretty sure you've seen him smile only once. That was the day you learned the Italian boy had dimples. You haven't stopped thinking about them since.

You like to think that the rare sight called Theo Nott's smile was most of the time, directed at you. The first time you caught a glimpse of one you were walking by the shore of the Black Lake alongside him, the sun setting in the distance, casting gorgeous golden hues all over the place. You rambled on about your day, this particular one having been extremely exhausting, more so than usual.

You're not really sure what made him crack one of those precious smiles, but you suppose it was a joke about your misery. Seeing him like this, it made your heart skip a few beats. The rest of the walk continued in silence, but you wouldn't have had it any other way. You wouldn't have been able to stop yourself from declaring all of your bottled up feelings to him.

Most of your walks happened in comfortable silence, but you preferred that. You liked how with him, you could just, be. Exist, without a need for a meaning. After a long day, you didn't have to force a smile to your face. You could just appear in the Slytherin common room and ask for him to come and walk. He'd always come with you, without a single utter of complaint. You'd walk with him, ask for a few puffs from his cigarette, complaining when he'd shake his head, telling you how the sunshine girl of Hogwarts could in no way be caught smoking with Theodore Nott.

Youre shaken out of your daydreams as your eyes land on a pair of grey ones. Your cheeks heat up instinctively and you pray to Helga up there that he can't see it from that far across the room. You offer him a warm smile and your heart skips a beat (or two) as you see him biting his cheek to hold back a one of his own.

A little smirk still comes through and it makes you grip the table from giddiness, butterflies swarming all around the inside of your stomach. You smile even brighter and somehow manage to tear your gaze away, trying to focus on Cedric's rambling.

".....You're not listening, are you?" He deadpans, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. You don't say anything, just offer him a sweet smile and press a kiss to his cheek before standing up and making your way back to your dorms to grab your books for the day.

First class of the day is divination. You don't think there's ever been a class that makes your eyelids heavier than that. Maybe you'll get to catch up on some of the lost sleep?

The bells rings, indicating the start of the first class. Students scurry off into different classrooms, but you're still quite far from yours.

"Shit, fuck fuck fuck," you curse softly, quickening your step. You grip your books closely against your chest and make a run for it, the sound of your shoes hitting the marble floor echoing across the massive hallway.

You burst through the trapdoor, panting softly from having to climb the ladder with your books in your hands, cutting off professor Trelawney in the middle of explaining today's lesson. She sighs and shakes her head, making you smile sheepishly at her. Hushed apologies spill from your mouth as you make your way to your usual seat in the back of the classroom but you're caught off guard as its taken already. Well, almost taken.

One of the seats seems to be unoccupied, but the other is supporting a very, very good looking Slytherin.

"Theo," you breathe out in surprise, cheeks flushing. You look at the free chair, then back at him. "Is it, is it okay if I sit here? I'm usually alone back here. Didn't expect for you to make an appearance."

He nods curtly and you thank him with a little smile, dropping your books on the desk. You sit down and try to tune yourself into Trelawney's teaching, but the heat radiating from Theo and his addictive scent are clouding your senses.

"Now, for the practical part. You are to be paired up with the person next to you. Tell each other about the dream you had tonight and search for the meaning in your books. You've got half an hour for the task."

That certainly snapped you out of your thoughts. You hear a cough next to you and you turn to face him, rolling your eyes playfully as he motions for you to start.

"Well, I don't even know where to start. I could not fall asleep, no matter what i did. When i finally managed to pass out after 5 hours of tossing and turning, i had this weird dream about snakes wanting to kill me." You start, grimacing as you begin to remember. You grab a quill and write a few keywords to the parchment in front of you.

You look back up at him to ask about his dreams but instead, you find Theodore Nott quietly chuckling to himself.

"Stop laughing, you bloke! I've had weird dreams ever since i was a kid!" You try and defend yourself, opening your book to try make sense of at least some aspect of the psychedelic visions. "What about you, though? What did you see?"

He hums in though, chewing on his inner cheek. "I saw me and you on a date at Hogsmeade."

That definitely catches you off guard. "....you what? Actually?

"Yes, actually," he chuckles, shaking his head, looking up at you. "I'm not making this up, i swear!" He adds, raising his hands in defence.

You cant help but laugh, writing that down as well.

"...we could make it a reality. If you're up tor it?" You murmur softly after a few seconds, pretty sure you're on the verge of passing out at any second. You keep your gaze down, not daring to look up. Not wanting to see his grey eyes sparkle with amusement for suggesting something so silly.

"Sure. Three Broomsticks, Saturday, eleven o'clock?" He inquires, and you barely have time to nod in agreement before the bell rings yet again. He leans closer and presses a kiss to your cheek, his signature lazy smirk painted onto his face before he mutters a simple goodbye, literally disappearing into thin air.

You sit still for a good few minutes as the classroom empties out, your hand hovering over the spot that his lips touched, a faint smile adoring your face. Holy fuck.

[blarshwritezz]

Hi can I request yan stalker x pervy male reader, where the reader purposefully sleeps naked, leave their window etc in the hopes thaf stalker yan would take pictures of them can the reader also have a habit of going into alleyways and spaces were there aren't alot of people in the hopes that stalker yan would grope or even just take them right there

Reader: oh no, I hope no big strong INCREDIBLY HORNY psychopaths are in this alleyway where I'm all alone and defenseless...ahem, I SAID-

Yandere Stalker x Pervy Reader

M yan x M reader

TW - general yandere behavior, stalking, NSFW

You've been dealing with a stalker for months now. He'd sneak into your room at night, take pictures of you, even steal your things sometimes. He'd send you "gifts" like wilted flowers, or pictures of you covered in what you were 90% sure was cum. He'd send sexy articles of clothing.

All this has been going on for months...and he hasn't even fucked you yet! Seriously, what more could you do?! You've been sleeping naked, leaving your windows open and all your doors unlocked, wearing the clothes he gave you, frequenting dangerous and isolated areas, everything! But not once have you woken up late at night to him even touching you!

Life was so unfair like that.

So tonight, you had a plan. You've gotten so much sleep lately, and had the day off, that tonight you wouldn't be very tired at all so you could wake up and finally confront him!

It took nearly an hour for him to finally get in, and you had to admit, he was discreet. You barely heard his soft steps on your floor. When he was finally close enough that you could feel his hot breath on your neck, your eyes shot open and you grabbed his arm.

He struggled, stopping once you asked why on earth he hasn't absolutely demolished your ass yet. Why he hasn't even groped you!

"Wait...what?" He was confused. You...wanted to have sex with him?

"Well why else would I sleep naked and leave my windows open?"

"I thought you were hot."

"Aww, thanks. Now if I'm so hot then fuck me. Come on, I'll be a good boy~" You teased. He was all flustered, it was pretty cute.

With the way you were laying, you were easily able to feel his bulge on your ass. It was definitely bigger than you expected. All the more exciting.

"I'll even-" You were cut off by his fingers being shoved down your throat.

"Don't speak. The only noise that I want to hear from you is moaning got it?"

You nodded, moaning around his fingers. He smirked before pulling them out and lubricating his cock with them.

As he did, you flipped over so your shoulders were on your bed and your ass in the air. He got behind you, smacking your ass before stretching your hole with his cock.

He wasted no time, pounding into you like an animal in heat. Exactly what you've been craving. You wanted him to fuck you until your mind went totally blank. You wanted your skin to be sticky with his cum. To be fucked absolutely raw.

"Good boy...taking this so well." He growled in your ear as your moans echoed off your walls.

He didn't let up for even a second, occasionally spanking you. Just until his red handprints were covering your ass. Maybe even a bruise or two.

His cock twitched inside you as he hit all the right spots to make you scream with pleasure. You could tell he was already getting close to climax, the first of the night. Thinking of it put you on the edge too.

He took a fistful of your hair tightly in his hand, holding your face down into your pillow, practically suffocating you. Finally, only after making sure to kindly jerk you off too, he unleashed his load deep inside you.

...only to start again after only 5 seconds.

Hope this was okay! Writer's block acted up like halfway through lol

[otdiaftg]

The King's Men - Chapter Seventeen (19)

Day: Friday, April 26th / 27th* Time: 9:33 PM EST

The only Raven making a second appearance on the court tonight is Riko. The other two filing on are brand new, another striker to balance Riko out and an offensive dealer Neil remembers from last October's game. The Ravens intend to tear the Foxes' defense wide open, and by this point it won't take a lot of work. They are almost halfway through the second half. Even though the Foxes are built for the long haul they are quickly running out of steam. It costs them too much to go up against a team like this. "They're not fast enough," Andrew says. He has to mean their defense line, so Neil says, "I know." "Are you tired?" Andrew asks. It isn't concern, Neil knows, but that doesn't make it a less confusing question. He hasn't gotten the ball often enough tonight to be tired, but he can't say that with Matt standing two feet away from him. "Not yet." "Then I'm taking my turn. Matt," Andrew says, and Matt turns toward them immediately. Andrew lifts a finger from his racquet to point at Neil. "We're subbing Dan for Neil and Neil for you." Matt stares. "We're what?" "You're limping," Andrew returns. Neil hadn't even noticed, too focused on the ball and the Ravens. He shoots a startled look down at Matt's feet like he can somehow see the source of Matt's pain. "You're no use to me right now. Get Abby to put a brace on that. Neil can hold them in the meantime." They've said all night that speed is the fatal weakness on their defense line. Neil is the fastest player in Class I Exy, but how Andrew thinks this is a feasible solution Neil doesn't know. Neil wants to point out every reason this is a bad idea, but he doesn't have the right to turn Andrew down. "I started this game as a backliner, remember?" Neil says to Matt. "The Ravens put me up against Riko when I stayed with them in December. I know how he moves." "Two weeks of practice don't make you ready to face the best striker in the game." "Kevin's the best striker," Neil corrects him, "and I don't have to be the best backliner to counter Riko. I just have to be faster than he is. We both know I am. Trust me. I can keep him away from Andrew while you rest." "Coach will never go for it," Matt says. "Tell him he has to," Andrew says, like it was that simple.

Art used with permission by Ziegenking094. Thank you @ziegenkind094!

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

[teslvo]

The Rookie ⋆｡°✩ Intro

Detective!Joel Miller x Detective!Reader AU

A series chronicling a Rookie Detective and her Sergeant Partner.

Warnings Include : 18+ Readers Only , no outbreak, AU, Blood, Homicide, Language, eventual SMUT, descriptions of sexual desires, yearning (I know I need a warning for that), ANGST, age gap - More warnings to be added to each individual chapter

As Joel pulled out his Zippo, you watched his face be illuminated by the flame. Pink puckered lips take a drag from his menthol. He exhaled, letting smoke swirl around the both of you and into the somber night. Twinkling stars and ambulance sirens acted as a backdrop to your two-man show.

Some days, all this job seemed to be was a fucked-up television show production. Anticipating if your character would be written off, shot dead, or worse. Maybe the episode ended on a cliffhanger? Long nights searching for any clues or connections you could find. 

Today was the season's finale.

You clutched the silver thermal rescue blanket closer to your chest while watching the medical examiners wheel out multiple bodies from the house.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Joel noticed.

Of course, he noticed.

Casually moving in front of you, he blocked your line of sight. His thermal was halfway off his frame, as if he couldn’t be bothered with it. Your focus was now attuned to the specks of blood that littered his light blue button-up. The first three buttons from the collar down were roughly undone, and tiny bits of blood had landed on his thick neck.

You hadn’t realized you had spaced off until Joel gently placed his hand underneath your jaw. He couldn’t help looking you over for the third time since backup arrived. His warm brown eyes were swimming in sadness, exhaustion, and worry. The pinch between his eyebrows was a dead giveaway of the toll the day had taken on him.

“All good, rookie?” Joel’s paw of a hand brushed the top of your head, pushing back some flyaways while simultaneously leaning your head back to meet his eyes. His voice had grown raspy and deeper. It was warm, like Bourbon, accented with his southern drawl.

When he pulled his hand away, the warmth left with it. Flakes of dried blood had collected on his palm as a result of touching you.

"Yeah, I’m good.”

⋆｡°✩

Author's Note: Hooray! I'm so excited to get on with my first project in such a long time. Y'all, after being such a Joel Miller obsessor for so long, this idea kept running through my head that I had to start on it. This will be a sort of anthology series, as stories I think are fitting for the characters and world-building manifest in my brain. So sit back and relax; I'll see you very soon. 

[amaranthineghost]

hi! could u write a fic where lando and the reader were fucking and lando takes his phone out halfway through (to take a photo for himself) but accidentally gets it posted on his instagram story and they only find out in the morning idk i just thought this would be funny af

OOPS? ( lando norris. )

lando norris x reader

to commemorate the sight in front of him, he snaps a picture on his phone without realizing he's just posted it for millions to see.

warnings: smut

authors note: I really liked writing this!!! it's a bit shorter than usual, but I enjoyed it a lot so thanks anon!!! <333

HE DIDN'T KNOW HOW HE DID IT. maybe he was just in the haze of sex, buried deep in her cunt with her leg over his shoulder, her other around his lower back pulling him in further.

he was hovering over her, hand pressed against her mouth as strings of muffled moans spilled from her lips, warm tears against his skin. god, she looked so good, too good. he just wanted to remember how fucked out her expression was.

leaning over to the nightstand, slowing his thrusts ever so much as he clutched his phone, flash on to compensate for the darkness of the bedroom. he snapped the photo, throwing the phone to the side, face side up.

he turned his focus back to the messy masterpiece in front of him, returning to the pace he had set before.

he pulled his hand away from her mouth to hear her symphony of moans, music to his ears. his hand took its place on her neck.

lando norris has posted to his story

he was so lost in the moment, he should've realized sooner the mistake he made. he should've realized at the instant texts that lit up his screen because who would be texting him this late?

all he did was flip over the phone, ignoring whatever notified him as he pulled her leg off his shoulder, pushed her leg down from his back. he fell beside her, prompting her to crawl across him, straddling him weakly as his hands settled on her hips.

fuck, she looked so good from this angle. hair messy from the pillows, face red from the tears down her cheeks, but also flushed from how hard he fucked her. he had already coaxed one orgasm ouf of her.

she sank down on his cock, causing him to curse under his breath with praise, “fuck, such a good girl.” his hands clawed into the flesh of her hips, guiding her pace once he saw her struggle.

the view was immaculate, he could've came at the sight of her tits bouncing up and down as she slid on his cock alone. it was salivating.

his hands left her hips to grasp her breasts, and he couldn't care if her pace faltered because everything felt too good in the moment.

if only they knew.

he planted his feet firmly against the bed, grasping her sides again as he lifted his hips to meet her halfway. it was rough, causing her to steady herself with her hands against his chest as he thrusted up and forced her hips down. his cock buried deep in her brought her over the edge so easily as tears fell from her face onto the bare skin of his chest.

she collapsed against his chest as his cock sank into her, feeling the warmth of his seed inside her cunt. she groaned against his chest as his arm spread across her bare back and pressed a kiss to her hair. the tears from her face wet his skin.

“did so good, baby,” he cooed, running fingers across her flesh as she hummed into his chest.

they laid together for a while before going and cleaning up. since it was already late in the night, they got back into bed and fell asleep.

when lando awoke the next morning, his phone was nearly dead and hundreds of texts and missed calls from his friends was the cause. hot to the touch, he carefully held his phone, brows furrowed as he laid on his side, back to his girlfriend, who was still fast asleep on the other side of the bed.

first, he opened the texts from his friend, max, who’s messages were in all caps. his eyes widened at the content, squinting at the screen in disbelief. no way he was that stupid, no the photo he took was in his camera roll—no it wasn't.

he discovered that, unfortunately, the photo he had taken was posted to his Instagram story, and it hadn't been taken down.

if it weren't for the circumstances, he could've stared at the photo all day because it was truly that good, but first he had to get rid of the post—and get the photo into his camera roll.

he nearly jumped out of his skin when she stirred in her sleep, now right against his back with her cheek pressed to his bare skin.

“morning,” she groaned and he mumbled back. she moved to rest her head on his shoulder, squinting to see what was on his phone screen, “why’re you on your phone so early?”

“i'm sorry.” he gulped, turning his head to watch the expression knot on her face, mostly confusion.

she sat up, leaning on her arm as she practically hovered over him, “lando, what did you do?”

“i’m so sorry,” was all he could say.

“lando,” she paused, an underlying tone of irritation laced in her voice as she emphasized her words, “what did you do?”

he glanced back at his phone, not even trying to hide the guilty expression written all over his face. she snatched the phone from his hand, and he didn't stop her. he covered his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes before leaving them to cover the lower half of his face as he watched her face.

“what the fuck?” she shoved his shoulder.

“i didn't mean to!” he sat up, throwing his hands up before running them through his messy curls, “i don't know how i did it.”

“oh my god,”she muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples as she hunched over the phone, “i’m deleting it.”

“wait–” his hand touched hers, he bit his lip, “at least save it to my photos–ow!”

she hit the backside of his head at the idiocy of his words. she exhaled deeply, anger taking over her body. of course, he didn't care as much as she did. he wasn't in the photo at all to begin with and this wouldn't affect his career as deeply as it would affect hers.

“why? so you can post it somewhere else? text it to your friends?” she raised her voice, groaning out in frustration.

“baby, calm down–” he tenderly placed a hand on her shoulder, which she shrugged off.

“how can i calm down, lando?” she threw his phone down on the bedding, falling back down onto the bed with her hands covering her face in shame. now that picture is all everyone will ever see her as, all thanks to her idiot of a boyfriend.

he grabbed his phone back, seeing the photo had been taken down from his story, but they both knew that image would be circling the internet for a long time.

“at least the photo didn't show anything,” he tried to make light of the situation, but it was to no avail as she spat back with venom in her tone.

“you don't even care about the photo because you aren't the one in it, lando.” she scoffed.

“i’m sorry, okay?” he turned to her, “i really didn't mean to, you know i would never do that.”

she sighed, “i know, but i’m still mad, lan.”

“i know, darling,” he laid beside her on his side, looking at her side profile as she stared at the ceiling, “you have every right to be mad.”

she stayed silent, and he didn't know if it was a good or bad thing.

he gulped again, speaking up, “and i promise to never take a photo of you when we're fucking ever again.”

a laugh forced it's way past her lips, “oh, please we both know you'll try and fail,” she said with a smile on her lips, shaking her head.

“okay, yeah, but i promise i’ll triple check it's not in any social media post,” he flipped over onto his stomach, propped up by his elbows with his pinky held out. she took it and the promise was made. the situation dealt with, for the most part.

“did you happen to save the photo though–ow, okay!”

—

taglist (found here): @poppyflower-22 @sapphiccloud @slut4lrh @kaa12 @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @nhlfs @beskardroids @hiireadstuff @lorenica @delululeclerc @c-losur3 @casperlikej

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[alchemicaladarna]

Hi sorry, I'm ill about the soul vulture arc again. Because q!Bad made choices in his grief, in his rage, thinking he will never feel an ounce of happiness again because he thought his kids were dead. Q!Bad's Acceptance was never of accepting that grief and learning to live after it, but rather, it was the silent admission that his children were dead and there was nothing he could do. No rage, no monster, no demon, no power in heaven or hell could bring them back. It was Acceptance. But the cruel twist of fate was the fact that he was wrong. Pomme, Dapper, and the other eggs were alive, actually. By the time he found out, however, it was already too late. He was long gone, and every choice has a consequence, and he suffered the consequences of his choices like hell.

Q!Bad was dead long before he fell in the lavender field one hundred feet away from the house his children built. One hundred steps away from his sleeping children he fought so hard to keep safe, under all costs. He died the night they were taken away, because they were his soul, his happiness. Everything that mattered in the millenia he's existed, nothing could compare to his children. He died that night; and all those months where it seemed like he was alive, where he was "healing" was the grim reaper bargaining with himself to hold on a little longer for his children.

Q!Bad loved Dapper and Pomme, and Richas, and all the eggs- he loved them so much it hurt. He loved them so much that love became his hell- his purgatory. Q!Bad loved them until the moment he finally stepped in his grave and couldn't bargain any more.

He deteriorated for months. He was literally melting from the inside. The vultures pecked at his body and fractured his soul. The radiation melted the skin off his limbs, and the brain inside his skull. It hurt like no other death, but if it meant seeing his kids for one more day, then that hell was more than worth it. And the physical pain wasn't the worst of it- no, eventually, he forgot his children's names, their faces, he forgot his own name, and he forgot himself. Memories slipping away like lost fragments of time. Until his death, when he was barely himself anymore.

People noticed, but never really did anything to stop it did they? I mean, who are we kidding, even if anyone spoke up, nothing they could have done would have prevented the inevitable. Dapper knew the fate his father subjected himself to. She knew what scars from soul vultures looked like, and she tried to find a cure. He tried, when he still had his lab, but there was never enough time. No science or magic could ever remedy what was already destined to happen.

And Pomme, sweet Pomme, stayed with her father until the end. She gave him health potions- "medicine"- to help his ailments. And she had so much hope she lived in denial- she thought he was getting better. But the truth is that the memory lapses and the illness never ceased because no medicine could ever resurrect a fractured soul clinging on to his deceased body.

Then Q!Bad finally relinquished himself to the sweet mercy of death. And when he arrived, he found the promise of paradise- the promise of Home, where he would never have had to suffer a painful hell again. But he chose to come back to live and to suffer once more because this time, his children were waiting on the other side. For the first time, the scales were balanced, and his happiness was halved because he had a home that was worth living in, and a life that was worth living. For the first time in the millennia q!bad had been alone, he had love. And that was enough.

The story has always been about love and loss, and the beauty of love and life, despite that loss. That's why the soul vultures arc is my favorite, and also why I nearly cried halfway through writing this. Because love thrives in spite of the loss, and the grief, and the personal hell. When death comes, and it always does, and time has eroded every portrait, or photograph, or memory- all that is left is love. And that love is hope, as well as grief. It is joy and sadness. It is heaven and hell. It is simply love.

[gothushi]

pressure

pairing: rob x photographer!reader

warnings: none

note: definitely just a filler chapter because i want the inital attack to be its own! that’s coming next;)

word count: 3.1k

part 1 | this is part 2!

——————♡

Day three out of the car, it’s hot, humid, and it’s only getting worse as it nears noon. The group has stopped for a break on a small cliffside that overlooks a larger part of the river you’ve been traveling along. It’s been a bit tense today, Michelle’s attitude not faring very nicely due to a few spats here and there, being scolded by John, getting upset with James. However it doesn’t bother you too much, focused on actually enjoying this experience and currently, focused on your job.

Stood near the edge of the small cliffside, your frustration is growing with each snapshot you get. It just isn’t right.. it feels off, not satisfactory. Rob’s watching you, keeping an eye out. The way you’re so close to that edge makes him feel nervous, has him not wanting to tear his eyes from you. He’s leant against a tree, arms crossed over his broad chest as he stares. Eyes follow your movements as you crouch down, then sit on the edge of the rock, legs over the edge, leaning forward a little, and God you’re trying to give him a heart attack.

“Be careful!” He calls out, louder than he intended to as he walks over, crouching down next to you with a hand finding your back.

“I’m fine, just frustrated..” Is the reply you offer, sighing as you flick through the photos you just took.

“Yeah, that’s what concerns me. I’m worried your frustration is going to lead you to making a dumb choice.” His tone is flat, “The view isn’t going to be that much better from a position that gives me a heart attack.”

Narrowing your eyes with no real malice, you sigh. It’s like you can physically see the shot you want, but can’t get. A little pout actually forms on your lips as you look down at the water below. “Yes it would be.”

Rob sighs, leaning in a little more, “I really don’t think it’s worth risking your life for a photo.” His hand drifts from your back to tuck some hair behind your ear, the touch gentle like he’s trying to distract you.

So focused on your frustration, it takes a moment for his action to register in your brain. A slight flush rises on your cheeks, easily blamed on the sticky heat, but it makes his own heart speed up nonetheless, “I know, it’s just frustrating because I can see what I want but can’t get it.”

“What exactly is it that you want?” he asks, keeping his tone a bit playful but also genuine. He’s not going to deny that it’s adorable to see how upset you are over getting a certain angle.

“The water but- from down there. It’s too high up here.” For the photo you really want, you’d need to be about six feet down the cliffside, halfway down. There is a trail below.. but it’s a long drop if you were to fall.

Deep blues glance downwards, studying the area, “It’s a pretty steep drop, how did you exactly plan on getting down there?”

“I didn’t.” You mutter, “I was gonna sit here pouting until we have to keep hiking.” Stubborn as you are, you’re smart enough to not actually risk your life.

He laughs at the blunt truth, looking back to you again. He stares for a moment before speaking, “You really want that photo, don’t you?”

“It’d look so nice,” you sigh, frowning down at the pretty water, calm and flowing into a large lake, ‘I wish I was like one of those goats that climb mountains.”

He chuckles again, cheeks a bit red against his tanned skin, “Alright, what if I offered to help you down there?” In his mind, it’s not that drastic of a descent. Not halfway at least. There are rocks below on a steep side that you could use to step on, the key would be being able to stay steady against the drop. His words make you stare at him for a moment. Surely not, he’s the professional here after all, jungle wise, he shouldn’t be encouraging this.

“It’s fine, really. I’ll forget about it before the nights over. It’s just frustrating right now.”

“No, no really, I’m serious.” He shrugs, not willing to back down. He likes adventure, and after seeing it he’s sure he can get a safe path down, at least part way. “I promise I won’t let you plummet to your death. Besides, maybe you’re right, it’ll look way better down there.”

“Well- how? One wrong step and I’m falling for sure.” You spare another glance down, feet dangling over the edge. It’s steep, maybe not as steep as the mountains those goats climb but.. steep. Large rocks embedded in dirt, big tree roots sticking out, even a large tree growing from the cliffside.

“Oh, the normal way, carefully.” Rob retorts bluntly, making you stare. He twists and lowers his pack, pulling some rope from his bag, “The trick is to not fall.”

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” He nods, standing up and holding a hand out, which you take, “If we start to slide, I’ll have you. You just worry about getting the photo.” He helps you stand and then unfurls the thick rope, tossing it out on the ground. He takes the end and loops it around the tree he was leaning against earlier, securing a tight knot on it and tugging hard, “John!” He calls, beckoning the other man over. He exchanges a few words, and John stays by the tree to keep an eye on the rope. You just watch, camera resting against your stomach where it hangs from the strap around your neck. Is he serious? Isn’t this kinda dangerous?

Rob has the rope secured around his waist, testing the strength as he walks back over. Without a word his arms wrap around you, tugging you close. It startles you, his strength with just a simple action impressive and making something flutter in your gut. “Easy, let me do it.” He’s close to your ear, muttering lowly as he steps you both closer to the edge. Lowering down, he keeps a strong hold on you whilst digging his heels into the side, letting the rope help to keep him upright as he uses the rocks and firm dirt to step down.

He’s holding you like fucking nothing, making heat stir in your stomach. Are you really that easy? That this is all it takes? One strong man and you’re a puddle of mush? Your arguing thoughts are interrupted by hearing him grunt in your ear, his entire body pressed against yours, and you finally speak, “This- this is good.” He’s managed to get you both lowered down enough to where the top of his head is out of John’s view above, and you’re a bit nervous to go any further down even with the rope holding Rob steady. He holds you still, keen eyes watching as you take a rapid succession of photos. His arms are tight around you, digging into your sides, hands clasped on them. Your own feet knock onto the tops of his boots and it clicks that he’s just fully holding you up. A dull throb of arousal forms between your thighs, only for a moment as you swallow, “Um- that’s good. I got enough.”

Your hand finds his forearm, the other holding your camera. Rob can feel his skin tingle where you touch, skin warm and smooth. The contact sends a jolt of arousal up his spine, something he has to will away quickly, “You sure? Did you wanna go lower?”

The idea makes you feel a bit nervous even though you trust him, so you shake your head. He hums a small noise so you know he understands and then begins to back up, using the path he took down and one hand on the rope- Lord help please he’s holding you with just one arm-

“Get some good photos?” John is right there at the top to help you up first, snapping you from that flustered daze.

“Yeah! Yeah, turned out nice.” Liar, you didn’t even look at them yet. John helps Rob up and then the latter begins to undo the knot in the rope around his waist. The professor claps a hand onto Rob’s arm and then walks to the tree to undo the rope there.

You clear your throat, sparing a glance at Rob as you hold your camera, needing something to keep your hands steady, “Um- thanks.”

His eyes flit to your face, hands on the rope, scanning over the pinkish hue on your cheeks, before grinning, “No problem.”

You need some water.

—

Some hours pass along the trails. John getting a scorpion off of Tim’s back, Michelle and James arguing at the rear of the group, crossing a small river and venturing into a shadier area of the jungle.

“I’m not too sure- actually..”

“Wha- aren’t you supposed to be an expert?”

“Oh God it’s huge!”

You’re looking on as John joins the others, James filming, Maria sat off by herself watching. Lisa’s found.. something, though you aren’t sure what it is yet. They’re all staring behind the log of a fallen tree covered in moss.

“Is it awesome?” James’ question makes Lisa laugh, she’s actually excited, agreeing that it is indeed awesome. John climbs over the tree, on one end as Rob is on the other. He waves his hat, seemingly distracting something, and you forget all about your camera for a moment to just watch in pure curiosity. Even Rob is grinning big. Seconds of silence pass before John moves quick, grabbing whatever it is with Rob’s help.

A fucking python. A beautiful, long, yellow python. The professor carries him over the log, stepping down onto the trail with Rob’s hand on his arm for balance. The creature is coiled up, twisting its body along John’s front as he speaks, “Now he’s obviously a constrictor, a python, but, that’d be strange because they’re not indigenous to this area. Now.. that means he’s either a migrant species so.. come in on a boat or something..” They’re all so happy, James filming, and Rob keeps reaching a hand up to pet over the python, keeping it distracted from going closer to the professor's face.

“Or..” He continues on, “there’s an emergence of a new species in this area.. and if that’s the case, that’s what we came here for.” You’re already snapping photos, stood off to the side. Some of them you find yourself zoomed further onto Rob, on his pretty smile as he pets the snake, before snapping out of it and getting a wider shot of the actual animal and not your crush. They start to do a piece for the camera itself, talking about how one of the researchers found him basking in the warm sunlight. The python twists its tail end around John’s leg, earning some chuckles as Rob untangles him and then takes the python from John’s arms to take him back to the spot he was resting previously, Michelle speaking with the professor to the camera James is holding.

You follow Rob, snapping some photos. God his arms are so muscular.. strong.. he held you so easily earlier.. veins stand out, muscles flexing as he carries the no doubt heavy animal back to the fallen tree. Heat coils in your core as you flick through the photos, eyes trained on Rob in each one rather than actually checking if it’s a viable picture or not. He could probably lift you and f-

“Get some good ones?” His voice startles you, your face red, and you nod quickly.

“Yeah! Yeah, um- that’s really cool. This is what you guys wanted.” Lord he gave you a heart attack. His hand finds your back, rubbing over it lightly as a silent appreciation. No more words are exchanged as John shares a hug with Lisa and then Rob, before the group carries on.

—

Further west back towards the river, the group stumbles upon the most beautiful waterfall. It’s huge, capturing James’ attention as he films it. You hear Tim vaguely say something about crocodiles, making the professor laugh loudly. You stand idly, admiring the falling water as James sets his camera down. Michelle’s looking up and doesn’t notice when James runs up and puts his arm around her, but she definitely gets upset and snaps at him. They’re bickering at the base of the waterfall, making your eyes practically start twitching.

“Will you two move!?” You yell, catching their attention above the water falling, crashing into the otherwise calm river. With a wave of your arm, obviously agitated, they scurry out of the way, Michelle looking pissed off and James a bit sheepish. Rob noticed, obviously, he hasn’t been able to really keep his eyes off of you for most of the day, and he huffs a small laugh, sauntering over. He doesn’t even say anything, watching as you take some photos, and then you turn around to look for him and light up when your eyes meet his, “C’mere, go stand by the water where they were.”

He complies easily, he doesn’t think he could tell you no even if he wanted to. Finding himself in the spot where the other two just were, he rests his hands on his vest, looking up at the water. He’s obviously aware you’re taking photos of him, so he tries to relax his face, trying not to look too stiff, probably overthinking the entire state of his body.

“Okay!” You call to him, voice a bit fainter over the sound of the water. He hears you though, looking over at you as he makes his way closer whilst you take a few steps to excitedly show him your camera screen, “They look good, huh?”

And oh.. they do. He actually smiles at the sight of himself. They’re zoomed in closer than he imagined, good quality, capturing his steely gaze as he was admiring the waterfall and looking up at the cliffside high above. “I-.. yeah.. yeah I really like these.” He grins big, smiling down at you. Your attention is focused on your screen, flicking through the handful of photos, but he’s watching the sweet look on your face, the pure excitement shining in your eyes.

“Can you take my photo?” James appears beside you two, asking excitedly but also a bit sheepish. It makes you laugh and nod, smiling at him.

“Of course I will, go on.”

—

Late at night now, all sat around a little fire, John is prattling on about lions or something. Masai’s and lions back home, reassuring James that he isn’t going to see a lion here, but your focus is on Rob. He’s sat next to you, leant in close, having low conversation. Beforehand, anytime you made eye contact with him during the day made heat coil in your stomach, a shudder run up your spine. There’s a heat between the two of you, something more, you can tell that much, or you at least hope you aren’t imagining it.

He smiles softly, keeping eye contact as he speaks, something about a trip to Africa he took a few years ago. He’s so close, crowding your space almost, grinning in the low firelight, when James interrupts to get Rob’s attention.

“Have you ever seen a real lion? Like out in the wild?”

Rob gives him a glare, staring down James’ face overtop the camera, “Yes.”

“Have you ever seen a lion kill someone?”

He fights back the urge to roll his eyes, “Yes.”

“Really? Like actually-” Michelle’s giving him a look to knock it off but it isn’t working, “Professor were you there?” He turns the camera, and John gives him the obvious yes as an answer.

The entire interaction pulls a small laugh out of you, leaning into Rob’s space just as much as he is in yours, “Y’gotta admit he makes this trip entertaining.”

A huffed sigh from Rob, turning his gaze back to you as James talks to Tim, “That’s one word for it.”

His dry words make you nudge him with your arm, scolding softly, “Be nice.. I remember how excited I was on my first real expedition.”

“Well- you’re a lot cuter than him so I’d actually tolerate that.” The flirtation comes out before he processes it, and it makes your cheeks heat up as you laugh, before James is interrupting again to ask you some questions. You happily answer them, about how you started photography, and he was also curious about the camera you have. Maria, Lisa and Tim all filter off to bed as you talk, then Michelle, then John ushers the rest of you off to bed. When it’s just him and Rob by the fire, he speaks.

“What you did earlier was risky.”

“Is my flirting really that bad? Could you hear?”

“No, at the cliff.”

“I’m aware.” Rob sighs, glancing in the direction of your tent before gazing back at the small fire. It’s clear he’s gonna get scolded right now. “I was being careful.”

“I’m just saying. You wouldn’t have done that for anyone else.” John shrugs. He fully understands Rob was careful but.. it was dangerous.

“I guess that’s probably true.” Rob mutters back, eyes low. At this point, he’s thinking about it for the millionth time. The way his heart was pounding, his arms tight around you, holding your weight like nothing, the arousal it sends up his spine everytime.

“Hey,” John sighs, staring at Rob, “I have no problem if you like her. But don’t let it affect your judgment here. I didn’t say anything because I was there, knew you could handle it, but don’t try a stunt like that again.” His words ring true, he knows that, but Rob is reluctant to acknowledge it.

“I know..” He sighs, “I get it wasn’t the smartest but.. she really wanted those pictures..”

“Wrapped around her finger.” John muses, grinning at his friend.

It makes him flush, he doesn’t like being called out. Heat blooms on his cheeks, and he hopes John can’t see the color since it’s so dark, “I-.. yeah.”

“So now you admit it?” The latter chuckles.

“Oh shut up.” His lips twist into a big smile, glancing at the professor. “Yeah. She has me wrapped around her finger. Happy now?”

“Very. Just keep it in your pants until we get home.”

That makes him groan, rubbing a hand over his face in embarrassment, “Shut up.”

John snorts out a laugh, poking the fire with his stick but no longer teases Rob, saying that it’s probably a good idea for them to go to bed now.

———————♡

[sisters-sideblog]

And my other fill for Ravioli ship week, for that most classic trope of "Only One Bed!" Read it here or on Ao3.

△△△

Link wasn’t home much for a while. After his recovery and agreement that Ravio could use his house while he was away, he promptly found himself halfway across the country chasing clues for several weeks straight. 

He did make it back home eventually. Shaking off the dungeon dust, he staggered back to rest and resupply, so tired he’d forgotten Ravio would be there and nearly drew his sword at the enthusiastic greeting that waited for him in what he was used to thinking of as an empty house. 

In fairness, his abrupt return seemed to startle Ravio as well. 

Now he slumped over dinner, already eyeing the corner where his bed had been shoved aside. It looked like there was just enough room to push one of Ravio’s added tables out of the way and crawl in.

…In fact.

Yes. 

There were scuff marks on the floor. New ones, as if someone had been doing exactly that for several nights. 

Link realized he’d stopped chewing, spoon dangling precariously from limp fingers. At his back, the sounds of Ravio enjoying his own meal fell suspiciously silent. 

It occurred to Link. Finally, belatedly. That he perhaps should have thought of this sooner. 

He hadn’t seen any of Ravio’s possessions aside from the stuff he sold. Wasn’t honestly sure he even had any. But the bag was obviously magical, so maybe…?

Link cleared his throat. Ravio twitched at the sound, spoon clattering against his bowl. 

“Where have you been sleeping?” Link asked in the most neutral tone he could manage. 

“Um. Well. You see.”

When Ravio didn’t continue, Link waited. But aside from clearing his own throat in a distinctly nervous manner, Ravio didn’t continue. Link finally turned to look at him. From the way Ravio dropped his spoon entirely, there was some kind of expression on his face.

“You’ve been sleeping in my bed.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mister Hero!” Ravio immediately returned in a loud but not terribly sincere tone. “I had to leave home so quickly, you see, and I was sleeping on the ground with all those dreadful monsters around before you so graciously lent me your home. It isn’t very comfortable down there. As, ah. As you know. since you’ve probably been sleeping on the ground, too.” He faltered to a stop rather than try to dig himself back out of the hole he’d talked himself into. His hands were wringing together, his posture hunched in a way that made Link think he might be about to throw himself back down on the ground like he had when he was begging for a place to stay. Link couldn’t see the extraordinarily sad puppydog eyes, but he could feel them aimed right at him. 

He had spare blankets and a bedroll. The space in front of the fire would be perfectly warm. 

But Link wouldn’t get any sleep himself if he made Ravio sleep on the ground while he enjoyed the comfort of a bed mere steps away. If the guilt didn’t keep him up, the sounds of Ravio shifting around certainly would. 

He sighed. “Fine.”

Rounded shoulders immediately straightened. Link swore the fake ears on the hood perked straight up. “Really? Oh, thank you, Mister Hero! I promise you won’t even notice I’m there!”

Link doubted that. 

△△△

The problem of logistics returned once, after much arguing, they had cleared sufficient space around the bed for them to both now be standing on either side of it. The dying fire cast a dull orange glow through the room, the door locked and the shutters closed for the night. Link was halfway through trying not to think too hard as he stripped down to his nightclothes before he realized Ravio had pulled his boots off and stopped, reaching to fold back his side of the covers with the bunny hood still on.

“Are you going to sleep with that on?” Link didn’t really want those giant embroidered eyes staring at him in the middle of the night. 

“I usually don’t,” Ravio said, which wasn’t an answer. 

“I don’t care what you look like,” Link tried. 

It didn’t seem to help. Ravio faltered, wringing his hands and just standing there awkwardly. He finally cleared his throat. “Could you turn around?”

Eyes narrowed, Link gave him a suspicious visual sweep. “Why?”

“I’m going to take it off.” 

“I might roll over in my sleep,” Link warned. He still didn’t have the faintest idea why Ravio didn’t want him to know what he looked like, but obviously he cared quite a bit. It was only fair to warn him.

“I know, friend, I didn’t mean you had to stay facing away all night! I have this!” He pulled something from one voluminous sleeve; after a bit of squinting, Link first thought it a mask, then a blindfold. But it had no eyeholes to be the former and looked too padded and comfortable to be the latter. 

“I’m not wearing a blindfold!” he said hotly. 

Ravio, Link had noticed, seemed to almost fluff up and out when he worried he’d angered someone against himself. Like a frightened cat with puffed out fur trying to make itself bigger than it was. “It’s not for you, it’s for me! And it’s a sleeping mask, not a blindfold!”

They stared at each other from across the bed. One beat. Two. 

Feeling red in the cheeks and more than a little foolish, Link turned around. Rustling sounds behind him; the covers folding back. He heard Ravio sit, then near silence for several long moments, save Ravio hissing a brief curse to himself. 

“You can turn around now,” he finally said. When Link did, he found Ravio sitting upright in the bed, hugging the far side, his hood traded for some kind of silk wrap that completely covered his hair and ears and the “sleeping mask.” Between the two, he was still nearly as covered as with the hood alone. Unlike with the hood, it was obvious he could no longer see, the direction of his head aimed somewhere more towards the middle of the room than Link himself. 

“Well. Good night, Mister Hero,” Ravio said, sounding as awkward as Link felt. 

“Good night,” Link echoed. He watched Ravio lie down and roll onto his side, facing away. 

Climbing into his bed with someone else already in it was… odd. Link tried to lay on his back, since that seemed the safest way to not actually touch his bedmate. But he’d never been much of a back sleeper. It didn’t take long for things to start to ache, and no amount of fidgeting was making it any better. 

Ravio politely didn’t mention Link’s shifting, but his shoulders drew up under the covers. 

This wasn’t going to work. Time for Plan B. 

Trying hard to roll over without pulling any of the covers off of his bedmate, Link gave in and flipped to his side. 

This presented a new problem. His bed wasn’t terribly large. When he tried to curl up it pressed their backs together; a feeling startling in its intimacy. But more importantly, drawing his feet up meant he encountered Ravio’s own. 

“Your toes are cold!” Link yelped. 

“So are yours!” Ravio lied. 

“They are not!” Link yanked them further up regardless to get his poor innocent calves away from Ravio’s freezing toes, but that just pressed their backs more firmly together. Grumbling, he flipped over again. Onto his stomach now, head turned to the side on his pillow so he could breathe, one arm hugging the pillow and the other curled up against himself; a position Gully had found him in more than once when he was sent to see why Link wasn’t yet awake and working at his apprenticeship. He’d turned his head habitually to the left, and so now faced Ravio, his nose nearly tucked all the way up against the back of his neck. He thought he saw Ravio shiver when he exhaled. 

Link liked the way he smelled. 

“Is this okay?” He felt the need to check. 

“Perfectly fine, Mister Hero!” Ravio returned in a pitch that could accurately be described as a squeak. Link didn’t have the mental energy left to check whether he meant it. The past few weeks had been long, and now that he was finally comfortable they were catching up to him. Incoming slumber weighed down all his limbs. 

It felt nice. To fall asleep next to someone. It felt really, really nice. 

Not falling asleep on a hard dungeon floor helped, too. Ravio was right. Sleeping on the ground sucked.

Even if he did wake up in the middle of the night to find that Ravio had stolen all the covers. Ravio put them back when he rose before Link did in the morning; Link woke to the warmth of someone else’s lingering body heat in the blankets heaped up over him. It was a feeling he thought he could very quickly get used to.

[sister-lucifer]

Royal Courting: The King’s Summon  

Chapter One 

In which Lucian, a humble baker, meets two very interesting customers who seem to be more than meets the eye. 

Content/Warnings: Original characters, slow burn, Medieval/Fantasy, charmingly mundane slices of life stuff, just fluff and character set up in this chapter, but if you like MLM Poly relationships you should stick around! 

You can find the masterlist for this series (among others) in my pinned post! 

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, USED COMMERCIALLY OR FED TO AN AI. IF YOU DO THIS I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND KILL YOU.

Not fully proofread! Please let me know if you catch any errors!

Lucian stretches out in his bed, groaning as his joints pop and his limbs wake up, readying themselves for the day. Begrudgingly he sits up, dirty blond hair tousled by his pillows in the night. He smooths it down as best he can with his fingers, but there’s not much he can do without the unforgiving bristles of a brush. 

With a yawn he throws his legs over the side of his bed and slides his feet into his tattered slippers. He cracks his back for good measure, sighing and blowing a curly lock of hair from between his eyes. As the outside world slowly leaks into his sleep-addled brain, he recognizes the familiar sound of the jays chirping endlessly outside his window; a sure sign that it is, in fact, time to get up.

When he pushes himself out of bed and parts the old curtains hiding his chambers from the rest of the world, the sun is eager to cover his freckled face in its warm light. He blinks a few times to adjust, the blinding brightness of the morning slowly melting into a pleasant glow.

His shapeless pajama gown flows about his round body as he trudges to the bathroom, another yawn crawling up his throat as he comes into view in the mirror. His hair is flicked up in every which way, hazel eyes tired but not unhappy as he walks up to the sink, pudgy tummy bumping against it when he leans over to splash a bit of water on his face. 

He feels much more awake than before once he’s dried his rosy cheeks and rubbed his eyes. He plucks his hairbrush from its holder and runs it briefly under the faucet before running it through his fawn tresses, only until the thatch of curls becomes presentable enough. No one’s going to be looking that hard, anyways. 

The hairbrush clatters back into its holder and the toothbrush comes out instead. It too is run briefly under the water before being put to work, another step in the morning routine Lucian often finds himself repeating ad infinitum. Minutes later he’s back in his bedroom, rummaging through drawers for something that resembles a put together outfit. It doesn’t have to be perfect when it’s going to be covered with an apron all day. 

He decides on brown trousers that are loose around the bottom and a comfortable, worn tunic that won’t get in the way with its flowing sleeves or make his binding garment too obvious. He slips his feet from his house slippers and instead into his trusted woolen-soled shoes, long since shaped to the arch of his  feet after so many years. 

He pauses to glance in the mirror, turning halfway just to make sure nothing has an obvious rip or tear in it. He adjusts his pants and the bottom of his shirt around the chub of his belly before ultimately deciding it’ll do. 

He turns back to grab his mossy green, woolen sweater from the chair he draped it over the night before. The edges are fraying again, he notices, he’ll have to fix that when he has the time. He doesn’t mind it so much now, though, as his arms fit comfortably into the warm sleeves of the garment, thumbs skillfully avoiding getting caught on any of its unnoticed holes or the hasty stitching of its owner from decades prior. Lucian does take note, though, that the split in one side pocket is growing. He’ll have to fix that later, too.

When Lucian pushes open the door connecting his home with his bakery, the comforting, lingering smell of strawberry and buttercream greets him with vigor. It seems to permeate everything in his bakery, though he certainly doesn’t mind. This early the only ones out on the streets are stray dogs retreating to their hiding spots and children headed to the school building up the road. 

He pulls the door open and props it with the stop, then flips the sign set up in the window: 

Hensley’s is Open! Come on in! 

“We’re open, everyone!” Lucian calls, not to anyone in particular. 

The first preparations of the day are always the easiest. 

First, he pulls his trusty apron from its rack and ties it behind his back, double knotting it just to make sure it’ll hold. Then he pulls the still-good loaves and pastries from yesterday that weren’t sold from their covered baskets, arranging them in his display in the particular way he can’t explain but can’t do without. When he’s satisfied with the results he moves on, giving a quick glance to the door before turning to his oven. 

He grips the fire striker with less confidence than he should, his other hand tossing a few logs into the oven before grabbing his flint. As he strikes the stone and the spark sets the wood alight he resist the urge to scramble backwards despite the familiar heat on his knuckles. His back aches as he rises to his full height once more, setting the flint and striker back on their shelf. 

He turns his attention to the plants in his windows next. He fills the can with the spout around the side of the bakery (it’s too bulky to fit into the little sink at his station, after all), dropping a bit of water on the wildflowers that bloom outside the building on his way back inside. 

Slowly, the watering can’s spout moves over each pot, moved by a practiced hand that has done this countless mornings before. Only when the soil is thoroughly wet does he move on, cycling through one by one until all of his green children have had their fill and the can can be tucked neatly back into place in the cabinet.

Lucian pauses as he takes a look around his bakery. He stops and leans against the counter, taking a moment to admire the scene. 

The morning sun comes in rays through the windows, sunning his plants and warming the wood floors. The spring breeze meanders through the open door and just barely rustles his hair about his round cheeks. The distant sound of horseshoes on the path and the other businesses opening their doors signals the awakening of a bustling town. The— 

“Mr. Hensley! Mr. Hensley!” 

Lucian turns quickly to the sound of clattering and a call of his name outside his bakery, followed shortly by a bleat of surprise. He has only a moment to process before his first arrival in standing in the doorway, his dark hair bouncing in sweet curls around his flushed face and little tail flicking quickly to and fro as he recovers from his crash, bike now laying against the side of the building. 

“Oh, Callum,” Lucian sighs, rushing to the boy to brush the dirt from his sleeves, “You have to be careful! Your mother spent a lot of money on this uniform, there’s no telling how much that school will make her pay for another…”

The young faun only blinks up at him with wide blue eyes. He shakes some leaves from his unkempt hair and the fur of his ears before holding out the hot mug he’s brought with him, wrapped in a cloth to keep it from burning his hands.

“Here, Mr. Hensley. Your coffee.” 

Lucian’s eyes soften as he takes the mug, removing the covering from the top and watching the steam rise. 

“Thank you, Callum.” 

The mug is set aside to cool for now, and Lucian quickly returns his attention to the faun boy who’s just collided with his bakery. 

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks, plucking a stubborn twig from Callum’s nest of hair and rubbing over a scratch on the fresh nubs of his horns. 

“No, I’m okay,” Callum replies quickly, brushing off his uniform jacket, “Just in a rush. I woke up late, that’s all. I grabbed my books and I was out the door, I didn’t even have to eat breakfast…” 

“…Is that why you’ve left home without shoes?” 

Callum pauses and looks down, groaning at the sight of his bare hooves on the wood floors.

“Aw, man! I’m gonna get an earful from the headmaster…” 

Lucian feels a bit bad for giggling at the boy’s plight, but he can’t help it. He misses when his problems were that simple. 

“You don’t have to bring me coffee every day, you know. I appreciate it, but I’ll survive without it,” Lucian assures him.

“Yeah, I know,” Callum replies with a shrug, absentmindedly toying with the leaves of one of Lucian’s plants, “But Ma says it’s a nice thing to do, especially since you don’t have magic.”

“Oh, well—“

“She says that making coffee ‘n’ stuff without magic takes a lot of time that you don’t have, since you have to work so hard and stuff. Is that true?”

“Er, y-yes, but—“ 

“She wonders how you do anything without magic, yanno. She says it’s really impressive that this place has stayed open so long when you—“ 

“Callum! I mean…I understand, Callum. Thank you. Here…”

Lucian takes a loaf of bread from his display, handing it to the boy with haste. 

“Can’t have you going on an empty stomach. Run along, and quickly, you’re already running late.” 

Callum takes the bread without hesitation, immediately digging in and thanking Lucian through a mouthful of it. In an instant he’s out the door and back on his bike, disappearing down the path. Lucian watches him go only until he’s sure he won’t crash once more. 

Lucian sighs as the ache in his back starts to return. The day waits for no one, though, and he’s got work to do. 

Throughout the day people pass through his bakery with leisure. Most are familiar, others are new but not unusual. The town of Lydell is a small one, after all. Not rich, but not too poor either, with a good part of its inhabitants planning bigger and better things for themselves and their families beyond the town limits. Every now and then he toys with that idea, that maybe one day he’ll pack himself up and move into one of the big, bustling cities he reads out in the books, with magic pouring from every brick in every wall on every street… 

…Foolish imaginings, that’s all. He’s got far too much to do here.

He watches from behind his counter as the sun lazily rolls into place in the center of the sky. The cool breeze of the March morning melts into something warmer, though not suffocatingly hot. Every now and then Lucian must wipe the sweat from his brow after standing in front of his oven for too long, but ‘tis the price one pays for a fresh batch of strawberry turnovers. 

Lucian looks up from the hot tray now cooling on the counter at the sound of a crackly meow. 

There, in his doorway, a slim figure of a cat with milky white fur splotched with inky stains of black around the feet and tail. It rubs up against the door, mewing softly just to make sure its presence is known. It sits with a regal confidence, not at all perturbed by the people who pass through the door beside it.

“Well, look who decided to stop in today,” Lucian says with a chuckle. The cat meows in reply before lazily sauntering over to the counter. 

“Give me just a moment, my dear. When I’ve gotten these customers taken care of I’ll get you your treat.”

The cat seems to understand. This is an exchange they have quite often, after all. With no collar to speak of and an insatiable desire to wander, the little animal is nearly an enigma to Lucian, but he’ll never complain about the company. For now he has to turn his attention to the lanky elf that is patiently awaiting his turn to speak. 

By now Lucian can navigate customer interactions with little to no friction. No, he does not have those in a different flavor. Yes, he can make them in a different flavor, but they wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow. Yes, he can go ahead and get some bagged up anyways. No, he does not offer a discount. No, he really doesn’t offer a discount. 

“Thank you, come again!”

Lucian sighs as the elf takes his leave, seemingly satisfied enough with the small bag of raspberry shortbread cookies. 

He turns to look down at the little cat still waiting patiently by his feet. It blinks slowly, then meows. Lucian laughs and mimics the sound. 

He then turns his attention to the cabinet beneath his sink. That’s where he keeps the little bowl and bag of dry food his feline companion loves so much. The cat meows excitedly, and Lucian can see it resisting the urge to hop up on the counter as he dumps the food into the bowl.

“Here, you’ve waited very patiently,” Lucian says as he sets the bowl on the floor, pushing it to the side where he can keep an eye on the cat without it being in his way when he walks around or behind the counter. 

He looks back up and out the open door, only to squint in confusion as he tries to make sense of what he’s seeing. 

It looks like two horses and their riders coming down the path, which wouldn’t be so odd if it weren’t for what Lucian could swear was the royal crest embroidered onto their side bags. The riders themselves are clad in varying degrees of armor, the metal clinking slowly getting louder as they approach the bakery. 

Royal guards? Here? In a little town like Lydell? 

Lucian quirks a brow as he watches them approach. He’s expecting them to simply pass by—they probably have important business to attend to, after all—but then one of them pauses. He pulls on the reigns of his horse, whistling and calling to his partner with words Lucian can’t make out from where he’s standing. 

It’s clear now that they won’t simply be passing by. Before Lucian even realizes they’ve stopped their horses outside of the bakery, and now they’re hopping down from their saddles.

Now that they’re closer, Lucian can get a better look at them. They’re definitely guards, that’s for sure, and much taller and stronger than any human Lucian has met here in Lydell. 

The first one is the shorter of the two, about 5’9, if Lucian were to guess. His skin is tan, a natural copper tone, and his curly hair is dark and thick, shaved underneath and left long on top. He’s smirking for some reason, the expression pressing dimples into his warm cheeks, though something about him makes it seem like he doesn’t need a reason. His eyes are sharp and foxy, the kind that notice little details about everything and everyone and leave others to feel uncomfortably analyzed. His armor is minimal, only a leather chest piece and gloves, and a few daggers are sheathed in his belt. He moves with a lithe swiftness as though he’s unaware of his own weight, hitting the ground without a moment’s stumble as he dismounts from his horse.

The second man isn’t nearly as graceful, but certainly isn’t to be taken lightly. He’s a hulking beast, 6’0 at least, perhaps 6’1, in a full suit of metal armor, save for the missing helmet. He’s paler than death, with long, golden blond hair that’s been lazily thrown back into a low, loose ponytail, leaving a few strands to dangle around his face. His long lashes are the same light color, hovering over icy blue eyes that give way to no emotion. Lucian can only see half his expression, as the bottom part of his face is covered with a dark neck gaiter. He comes down off his horse with a thud and a bit of metallic clinking, giving the animal a gentle pat. With a quick flick of his wrist and a skillful bit of magic he fastens the horses’ reigns to the post without touching them, and shortly after follows his companion inside.

“Woah, it smells amazing in here!” The shorter one exclaims, the pale one giving a nod of agreement in response, “I told you stopping was a good idea, I— Oh, look! They have strawberry turnovers!” 

Lucian has to bite back a chuckle as he rushes up to the counter like an excitable child, fumbling around in his pockets for money. 

“Two silvers each,” Lucian replies, “How many? And will you be staying, or should I get you a bag?” 

“Six please, three for each of us, and, eh…we’ll stay!” The man replies, shrugging at his partner, “We could use the rest. We’re headed back to Bascilium from Nora.” 

“Nora? Gods above, that’s far up north, what could possibly be so urgent the king felt the need to send his guards?” Lucian asked, not looking away from the two men as he moved to slip a few turnovers from their tray onto plates. 

“Oh, you know, just a little farm worker’s uprising. Apparently people don’t like having their gifts of agricultural magic exploited to feed corporate bigwigs. Funny how that works!”

Lucian forces a laugh, although he’s not sure what’s funny. The taller one still hasn’t said a word, instead occupying himself by looking around the bakery. 

“So, I take it you got it figured out, then?” Lucian asks, handing the plates over. 

“Mhm!” The man replies with a grin, eagerly taking the plates and handing one to his colleague, “Well, as figured out as it can be for now. Things like this happen a lot in Nora with all the industrialization. King Ambrose is working on sending a few delegates down there to smooth out some of the systems. You know there’s—“

The man is swiftly cut off by an elbow to the ribs from his partner. He turns to question what the could have possibly been for, but the taller one gives only a one handed gesture in response. Sign language of some kind, if Lucian were to guess. Whatever he said, it puts the first man at ease.

“Ah, yeah, I’m rambling. Sorry about that, mister, uh…” He pauses, squinting to read Lucian’s name tag. “…Lucian. Hey, I like that name. I’m Tobias, Tobias Silva, and the guy I rode in with is Rex Theroux. I take it you’re the ‘Hensley’ that runs this place?”

“Yessir,” Lucian replies with a suddenly confident grin, “Lucian Hensley, that’s me. Forgive me for bragging, but this little place is my pride and joy.” 

“Well then I’m glad we stopped in! Feels like this trip has us running all over Divestia.”

This earns a snort from Rex, and a few more signs that have an air of sass to them. 

“Well, okay, yeah,” Tobias concedes, “It was my idea to take the scenic route through here, but it worked out well enough, didn’t it? You could never find good food this cheap in Bascilium. Oh, shit, I almost forgot—!”

He quickly dips his free hand into his pocket, pulling out a small pouch and setting it on the counter. He pulls out twelve silver coins and hands them to Lucian, who gladly accepts them and tucks them away into his drawer. 

“Thank you very much, Mr. Silva.” 

“Just Tobias is fine, don’t worry about it. We don’t really do formalities.”

“Oh, alright then. Thank you, Tobias. Enjoy your turnovers.”

Tobias gives a quick nod before gesturing for Rex to follow him to one of the little tables pushed up against the large windows of the bakery. Lucian finds himself smiling at the talkative young man and his silent, looming shadow; a charming pair, those two are. Perhaps that’s why Lucian finds himself glancing over at them as they eat despite his occupation with his work. Tobias’s chatter never ceases except for when he’s chewing, but at the same time his attention doesn’t waver from his silent partner when he signs a response. Tobias gestures widely as he speaks, threatening to knock over a plant or two when he gets particularly excited, whereas Rex keeps his movements sharp and controlled, a skilled hand showing his familiarity with the silent language he utilizes. The pair seem to get along with no issue despite the way their natures juxtapose one another, but then again, perhaps that’s what makes them so compatible.

Tobias and Rex sit and shoot the breeze for about an hour, maybe, having finished their turnovers halfway through but not realizing, or at least not caring. The sun has just barely rolled towards the west end of the sky, shadows now slanting under the light. The foot traffic around the bakery has slowed a bit, so Lucian has taken to wiping down his counter and empty tables. That is, until he looks up at the sound of his name. 

“Hey, Lucian?” Tobias calls with a wave of his hand, “Can you come here for a sec?” 

Lucian collects his rag and approaches the table Tobias and Rex have made themselves comfortable at, giving them a polite smile. 

“Yes? Is something the matter?” 

“Oh no, not at all,” Tobias is quick to reply, “Rex just wants to know about your plants, what kinda magic you’re using to keep ‘em looking this green.” 

Lucian’s eyes turn to Rex, and he’s almost surprised to see his neck gaiter pushed down under his chin. He’s not sure why he’s surprised; how else was he supposed to eat? Or, perhaps, he’s simply surprised that his face is so unremarkable. Handsome, yes, but no scars or deformities, although Lucian doesn’t know why he expected there to be any. Maybe that’s simply the assumption one makes when another has their face covered for without obvious reason. 

Wait, what was the question? Oh, right, the plants. 

“I don’t use any magic, actually,” Lucian explains, suddenly feeling sheepish, “I, um…don’t have any.”

“Wait, what?” Tobias says, a bit louder than he meant to (a lot louder, actually; the sudden exclamation makes Rex wince a bit), “You run this whole damn place without magic? Wow, I mean, don’t get me wrong, that’s really impressive! I just can’t believe someone like you would— Ow!”

He’s promptly cut off once more with a smack on the arm and a sharp look from Rex. Tobias swipes his arm away and puts his hands up defensively.

“What? What I’d say? I didn’t deserve it that time!”

Lucian laughs softly behind his hand, unable to ignore Tobias’s natural dramatics. 

“It’s alright,” He assures the two, “I get that sort of thing a lot. I admit, it is rather impressive, though I don’t like to gloat. As far as the plants go, it’s just a matter of keeping them watered and not letting the soil go dry.”

Rex considers his words, nodding and doing a brief gesture that almost resembles a salute. 

“Oh, he says thank you,” Tobias clarifies. 

“It’s no problem,” Lucian says, returning the courteous nod, “Can I take those plates from you?” 

“Huh? Oh! Yes, please, we’ve really got to get going…thanks again, those were amazing. We’ll definitely be stopping by again.”

“Well, I’m very happy to hear that,” Lucian replied, unable to stop himself from grinning as his heart swelled with pride. He’d just bagged himself two more returning customers, and royal guards no less! Perhaps they’ll spread the word of this little place. Wishful thinking, maybe, but maybe not. 

Rex and Tobias gather themselves and rise from their table as Lucian drops the plates into the sink. He returns a brief wave as they both walk out the door, Rex giving another salute before turning away; one last thank you, Lucian assumes.

He watches as the pair mount their horses once again, settling upon their saddles before heading off down the path.

“Interesting pair of characters, those two are,” Lucian mumbles to himself as he turns back to his work. The little cat, which has now moved to basking on the window sill, meows in what Lucian chooses to interpret as agreement.

The pair of guards arrive back to the castle at nightfall, the last few rays of sun allowing them to walk their horses back to the stables before they head in for the night. 

First thing’s first: The king expects a full report. 

Tobias doesn’t bother knocking, entering King Ambrose’s office with an incredible amount of casualness. He strides in with Rex, who at least has the decency to close the door back, following close behind him, as usual. Ambrose looks up from the papers he was studying, hard expression instantly melting  away into a familiar smile. 

“My boys,” Ambrose purrs, standing up from his chair and walking around the front of his desk, “You’ve finally returned.” 

The guards nod in unison, and Tobias can’t stop himself from taking a moment to study his beautiful king. Ambrose is quite the stunning man after all; his skin is dark, as are his eyes, and his ebony hair is done up in locs so impossibly long they nearly brush the floor when he walks, decorated with gold cuffs and never less than perfectly maintained. His slim figure is draped in gold and white, as usual, for even a king’s most casual outfit is extravagant. He’s set his crown aside for now, as he usually does when working, but he has yet to remove the rest of his jewelry, as evidenced by the gold sparking on his wrists, fingers, ears and neck. 

“So? How did it go? I assume well, seeing as you aren’t quite as disheveled as I’d expect from a failed attempt at quelling riots,” Ambrose teases as he hops up onto his desk, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable.

“It went very well, sir,” Tobias answers with a grin, “Things have been set straight, and a temporary peace agreement was reached to keep the people satisfied until your delegates arrive.” 

“Very good, both of you,” Ambrose praises. Tobias’s grin only widens, and Rex signs a humble thank you. 

“Oh, and,” Tobias eagerly adds, “On the way back we stopped in at this little bakery in Lydell, and—“

“Lydell?” Ambrose interrupts, “That’s quite a ways off the path back from Nora. What were you two doing there? Is that what took you so long?”

He’s trying to feign seriousness, but the playful quirk of his brow and hint of a chuckle in his voice gives away his humor. 

“Mm, maybe,” Tobias says with a sly shrug, “But it was worth it. They had the best strawberry turnovers.” 

‘Although T was far more interested in the man behind the counter,’ Rex signs, eyeing his colleague with a lighthearted sort of suspicion.

“I was not,” Tobias quickly protests, “And just how do you figure that, hm?”

‘You kept glancing over at him while you ate. I don’t think you realized you were doing it, but it was obvious to me. Maybe he liked it, though. He kept looking at us, too.’ 

Tobias huffs, crossing his arms and cursing his inability to pull an argument from thin air like usual. His cheeks are getting warm. 

Ambrose laughs, hopping down from his desk and giving Tobias a reassuring pat on the arm. 

“So, he was a cutie, huh?” Ambrose chortles, “What was he like?”

“Honestly, cute is an understatement,” Tobias replies, “He was this short, chubby little thing who looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. He was nice, too, and I know he has to be nice to us because, you know, we’re customers, but still. And, I mean, how can you not be interested in someone who makes such heavenly strawberry turnovers?” 

“If they’re that good, I shall have to try them some time. See what all the fuss is about. Maybe I’ll have a chance to meet this little baker crush of yours as well.” 

“Oh, come on…!” 

Ambrose laughs again, unable to stop himself. For a moment Tobias swears he can even see a smile make Rex’s eyes crinkle at the edges despite being hidden by his neck gaiter. 

“Well, either way,” Ambrose coos, reaching up to gently cup his guards’ chins in his hands, “You’ve both done very well. Come here.” 

Tobias rolls his eyes, but nevertheless they both lean in, allowing their king to give them each a brief kiss on the cheek. 

“Good boys. Go on now, you need your rest after such a long trip,” Ambrose says with a wave of his hand before returning to his seat at his desk.

His guards bow briefly, all three of them exchanging well wishes and good nights before the door is shut again, leaving Ambrose alone in his study. 

“Cute little baker indeed,” The king mumbles with a laugh, “I’m sure they’ll be going back there…if Tobias has anything to say about it, at least…”

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

[secondarily-firstly]

Requested by @arrloww (Hehe yay! First request!)

Kyle Garrick x genderfluid!insecure!Reader

unedited | sfw | “Monster in the Closet” | Masterlist

Themed around Reader’s discomfort with their body, so I’m counting it as a warning

Might make a part 2 at some point with actual comfort but here’s something for now (I gotta relearn how to write fluff tbh :/)

It’s not very good — I haven’t written in a WHILE

Standing before the long mirror in your room, which had long ago been hidden behind the door to conceal it, the breath in your lungs just felt…stale.

A shirt too baggy to fit your figure. The folds of the cloth extending in a halfway decent crumble around hips far too shaped for displeasure. An uncomfortable feeling of suffocation around your neck from the collar, and you tug on it twice to try and loosen it. Eyes drifting down to the way the shirt also draped over your chest…

You let out a soft groan as you tucked the mirror back behind the door, eyes catching yourself one last time. Wearing a face, and a body, that just…didn’t feel your own.

The evening was supposed to go well. You’d been chiding yourself to live up to its expectations all week, knowing full well that you likely still would let both yourself, as well as your boyfriend, down.

He had gotten back this morning, and of course the first thing he’d done upon walking through that door, was to bring you into his arms. Holding you tight against his chest, one arm around your waist to draw soft shapes into your back, the other raised over your shoulder to gently hold the back of your head against his cheek. In that moment, his warmth, as well as his love, had bathed you in familiarity you’d so rarely feel when he was deployed. He loved you. Oh, how he loved you.

The glitter of the exchange melted away into a comfortable setting, by the time he’d kissed you. Smiling against your lips as he always did, with each little kiss across your lips, cheeks, and forehead. With one final kiss to the tip of your nose (“because it’s such a cute nose, sweet’art!”) and a stroke of his thumb across your cheek, he disappeared into the bedroom to shower and dress down to his casuals.

Which was how you got to where you are now, standing hiding from the mirror as though it were the monster in your closet, dressed in a shirt that felt too big, pants too long, fighting your hair without a mirror to prepare for a night in with your boyfriend.

You smile when he emerges from his shower, a towel held around his waist with a sheepish grin, walking past you to grab a set of clothes from his closet. You only watch, giving him a soft look. Eyes he’d fallen in love with long ago.

You loved him. He loved you. But oh, how you sometimes wished you could love yourself. The way he so shyly ducked back into the bathroom upon emerging in such undress…as though he had something to hide. He was beautiful, you thought. A beautiful man. With a warm smile and eyes that always seemed to carry with them a sense of ease. Soldier or not, sergeant or not…he was your Kyle. Your beautiful Kyle.

You look down at yourself again, bottom lip between your teeth. Pulling uselessly at the hem of your shirt, and tugging up the waistband of your pants. Awkwardly shuffling your feet as you glance up at the bathroom door. You hear shuffling, and the sound of the sink running so he could wash up his face. A routine you could recite with ease. You wondered how he could face that mirror so easily every time, sometimes just watching him get ready for his days, or for dates. In awe of how easy it seemed to him. An ease you wished you could possess as well.

The bathroom door opens, and your smile returns to your face. Hands at your sides, as though they weren’t just tugging at your clothes, or pushing around skin you’d grown to hate. Marks of old pain or old habits which had long since grown numb to your abrasive touch. A body you wished could just go numb with them sometimes.

You meet his eyes, and he meets yours. That smile on his lips lighting up the room, and he opens his arms for you again.

The glitter in his eyes just makes it so hard to tell him no.

[antaripirate]

this is the exact scene from ACOL just before they board The Ghost, actually

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

the problem is that I had beef with Timmy Cabernet for like two years because he got cast as Laurie and just did not match my idea of what Laurie Lawrence should look like but the truth is that the guy is actually a very good actor and despite the many issues with Little Women 2019 (which, for the record, I did enjoy. sorry mutuals) he was a surprisingly decent Laurie, so I can't stay annoyed by him very well, can I?

[coachbeards]

brendan saying beard could never be head coach because of personal reasons/having a chaotic mental health/self destructive nature etc bc like. Have you SEEN the other coaches 💀

[tacagen]

You inspired me to make this

So here's Eobard as a ginger cat.

OH THE POWER OF MY BRAINROT.. HE'S ADORABLE THANK YOUU

[brainworms-all-night-long]

So you rember my seemingly out of pocket trio of sillies composed of Nine Night and Nimona yea, I has been thinking abt them again, but than it morphed into an idea for comic cannon corrupted Nightmare that Eggman dug out somewhere idk don't question it for now, and made a deal to work together where Eggman does his thing and Nightmare goes off to torture the tiny traumatized animals (Sonic and co.)

[yardsards]

found in a yearbook from the 1950s