#and that’s part of the reason I decided to move it

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC John Constantine's How To: Ghost Kids (pt.2)

[<- part 1]

"Oh, yeah," John jerks his head up like he just remembered the fact people are supposed to have names at all. He gestures to the kids, pointing to each of them as he introduces, "Daniel, Daniel, and Danielle."

This time, all three kids flip him off simultaneously. Bruce clears his throat, trying to figure out if Constantine is messing with him and, if so, in which parts. Since, so far, everything the man has said sounds like a poor attempt at pulling his leg.

"I don't think they like those," he cautiously says, and the kids whip their heads at him, nodding furiously. Bruce can't help but be just a little enamored with the way they behave.

"Of, sod off, at this point I don't care what they like," John straightens up with a dismissive, albeit weak, wave of his hands, and rubs his face, "They are menaces. Sometimes by accident, but mostly on purpose. Their grandfather thought it would be easier to handle them if they were not teenagers, and while I agreed with his reasoning at the time, I-" he glances at the kids, who all have displeased grimaces of various levels on their faces, "I have been made to reconsider. I swear that ancient bitch is laughing his ass off wherever he is now."

The kids suddenly grin. They are not very friendly, nor polite smiles - if anything, they look a bit nightmarish. An old grandfather's clock in his study makes a very loud ticking noise.

"See?" John whips his head to look at said clock, the expression on his face bordering on insane. His eye twitches.

If Bruce doesn't do anything now, he might become one of the very few people who managed to witness John Constantine, the Laughing Magician, have a meltdown. So he sighs and decides to solve the problems one at a time.

Which means that no matter how alarmed or suspicious he is, his first move would not be to interrogate either the man or the kids.

"You can sleep in one of the guest rooms, I trust you can find it on your own," he tells John, almost softly, as he catches the girl from slipping away from his lap, "Is there anything I need to know about children before you fall unconscious?"

John slumps with relief, so obviously that Bruce almost smiles. Hardships of raising - or, watching, for that matter - kids, he understands.

"Yes," he breathes out with an air of exhilaration and turns to the kids again, pointing to the middle child, "Danny is the original. He is from this dimension and timeline, that is. Dan," he turns his finger to the older boy, "is in the wrong timeline, he's Danny's future evil self redeemed into older bratty brother. Dani," he switches to the girl, "is Danny's clone, made by his arch-nemesis of a godfather. If she starts melting at any point, wake me up immediately. If any of them start floating, sprouting tentacles, speaking to walls in static, or glowing, don't."

Bruce looks down to the kids. So, definitely metas, that would explain the government trying to get them... Or, no, it wouldn't because he is fairly certain no government is going to blatantly ignore the Meta Protection Acts.

"Don't let them raise the dead, and if you give them food, make sure it doesn't have a face. If you find more than three of them, it means one of them has duplicated, don't worry, they will absorb it back later. Absolutely don't let them touch any guns," Constantine is backing down to the door as he speaks, his gaze flickering from the kids to Bruce and back every second. Like he is leaving a ticking bomb in Bruce's lap, and not three children. "Danny is, comparatively, the most responsible one, the other two are up for any dubious trouble they can get to at any moment. Oh, and their memories are wonky because of de-aging, they remember some things but not others, so if they say something particularly disturbing, it's most likely some random piece of knowledge they managed to keep."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. He did get the part about the kids being, well, abnormal in the matters of their origins, but the disjointed set of rules and advices doesn't help as much as Constantine probably thinks it does.

"Allergies, preferences, ages they were before?" He tries to get at least some more info down before John disappears through the door. Actually, maybe he should send someone to handcuff the man to the bed lest he disappears completely.

"None, but don't let them eat cutlery. Danny likes space, Dani has a thing for exploring, and Dan likes violence." The older kid stirs in Bruce's lap and says something in the direction of Constantine. No sound comes out, but the man seems to get what he's trying to say anyway, "Okay, yes, that was rude of me, sorry. Dan likes... exercise," he ends up with, and that placate the boy enough to slump down and cross his arms. John sighs, "They were seventeen, fourteen, and twenty respectively. Now," he snaps his fingers, and suddenly Bruce can hear the girl - Dani - humming a tune under her breath. So, he lifted the silence spell, it seems.

"Good fucking luck," John wishes to Bruce, earnestly, and all but vanishes away.

Bruce sighs and looks down to the kids.

"Are you hungry?" He tries, and all eyes are on him at once, attentive and unblinking.

"Fruitloops," Danny says, and while Bruce is positive that's the name for a cereal, he gets a feeling that's not what the kid meant.

[cevansbrat0007]

Forget-Me-Not

Summary: Ari forgets to do something important before leaving out the door...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Fluff, Implied Smut, Kisses, Chocolate Covered Strawberries, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You’re currently standing at the stove, slowly stirring a pot of freshly melted chocolate. For some reason, you’d awoken this morning with a craving for chocolate dipped strawberries. So, instead of paying an arm and a leg to buy them from some fancy shop, you’d simply decided to make your own. 

Humming under your breath, you’re surprised when you hear your front door open and shut. A quick glance at the clock suggests that it’s much too early for Ari to home for good just yet. More likely he’d probably forgotten something. 

Turning off the heat, you move to pour it into a bowl. Next up was your favorite part – turning your favorite fruit into a delicious confection. You run your finger along the spoon, wincing as the still-too-hot treat burns your skin.

But you don’t care. Not when it tastes so good. So good, that you can’t help the satisfied moan that escapes your throat. 

“Is it really that good, sweetheart?” 

“Mm.” You purr before helping yourself to another taste, this time using your tongue now that things have cooled a little more. “It really is.” 

Grinning, you take a moment to get a good look at your man. He’d been a man on a mission this morning, rushing out the door before you were barely awake and alert. And while you weren’t quite sure what business it was that had him moving so quickly, you were pretty certain that he’d tell you at dinner.

“You in the mood to share?” Ari rasps as he leans against the wall, looking exceptionally sexy in his dark blue Levi’s and black henley. You find yourself slightly disappointed that he’s not rocking one of his signature flannels. 

Mostly because you liked to steal them. But to be fair, your sweet Beast also never seemed to complain when he caught you wearing one. He mostly just sighed and grumbled about his diminishing wardrobe. 

Which was fine by you, considering the fact that he was the sole reason your entire panty drawer had been reduced to next to nothing. Those flannels were owed to you by right! 

“Just what are you doin’ back so early?” You ask, holding the spoon out to him. “I didn’t expect to see you until dinner.”

“Forgot to do somethin’.” He rasps as he moves towards you, his long, powerful legs bridging the distance between your bodies in mere seconds. “Somethin’ important.”

“Oh?” Guess you were right. The man had been moving so fast this morning that he’d likely left behind an important file or notepad. “I don’t recall seeing anything on the table, but–”

“That ain’t what I forgot, little Bird.”

Now he’s standing in front of you, his work boots almost brushing your bare toes. You’re caught off guard when Ari moves to tenderly cup his cheek, his roughened palm warming your delicate skin. 

“What…what did you forget?” Confused, you move to offer him the spoon in your hand, only to be surprised when he declines. You watch as his normally brilliant blue eyes darken as they stray to your waiting mouth. Your heart speeds up when his head descends, making his intentions all the more clear.

“Something much, much sweeter.”  

Squealing in surprise, you can’t help when your eyes flutter closed as his sinful lips capture your own. The kiss starts off soft and sweet, that is, until you feel Ari’s free hand make its way down your lower back so that he can grab a handful of your ass, pulling you closer to his big body.

You feel his tongue sweep against your bottom lip, encouraging you to open. To respond in the way you so desperately know he wants. Rising on your toes, you eagerly grant him access, wanting him to know that you were feeling just as hungry and wanting as he felt for you.

Feeling emboldened, Ari lifts you off your feet, prompting you to wrap your legs around his trim waist. Your fingers find their way into his hair, lightly tugging at his already tousled locks. Meanwhile both of his impatient hands busy themselves with kneading and squeezing your curves as he rocks his hips against yours, letting you feel the weight of his already impressive erection.

It makes you want him here. Now. So you can't help but feel disappointed when he slowly eases away, leaving you wet and needy.

“Fuck." He promises now that he's finally allows you up for air. "Promise I won’t forget to do that again.”

“Uh huh.” You breathe, your legs wobbling slightly the moment he releases his hold, lightly setting you down. It doesn’t help when he leans in once again to gently brush his lips against your temple. And his satisfied grin has you giggling as your head falls to rest against his broad chest. 

“Tell me what I interrupted here, baby.”

“I was making chocolate covered strawberries.” Nuzzling your nose against the fabric of his shirt, you continue. “I woke up with a taste for them, so…” You offer up a small shrug. “I decided to make some.”

“Well, that’s funny. On account of I woke up with a taste for you.” You feel his big palm come to rest on your head, stroking a path along your silky curls. “And these are about to make the proceedings even better.” 

You can’t help but feel a little dizzy when he pulls away. His teasing words were filling you with all kinds of spicy ideas.

“I’ve gotta run.” Ari tells you. “I only came back to rectify my mistake. But I want you to save some of these for tonight…” He glances down at your now cold bowl of chocolate. “Because I have plans to enjoy my little Bird for dessert before I even think about dinner.”

Reaching around you, he snags a ripe berry and lifts it to your mouth. His eyes never leave yours as he watches you bite down on the plump fruit, its juice lightly dripping down your chin. Groaning low in his throat, Ari leans in once more, lapping up the sweet trail with his tongue. 

“And Bird?” He calls as he turns to walk away, confidently striding towards the front door.

“Y-yeah?” Dear God, this man was going to be the death of you.

“No panties, alright? I don’t want anything between me and my strawberry delight.”

Fucking Beast.

END

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[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Hiya! I have another au for you! I'm loving our vampire rp, it's so good! I'm really enjoying it!

This one is a little different, with a darker Lucifer, which I'm really starting to love.

The idea is that after Adam and Eve were cast out, Lucifer and Lilith became extremely powerful, Lucifer could rival in power to the strongest archangels and maybe even god himself.

The idea in this is that after falling, Lucifer and Lilith blamed each other for the fall and separated. Lilith was queen of the lower rings, while Lucifer ruled the upper rings. He's more powerful than her because of his angel status, but he let's her do her own thing, as long as she's not causing trouble.

Lucifer eventually taps into the raw power of Hell, which slowly starts tainting his mind, he's still him but he can lose control sometimes. Heaven eventually starts to learn how powerful Hell is and what can happen to Lucifer and Liltih- power wise. So they start making an army, creating angels specifically for war.

Lucifer has a few angels in Heaven that speak to him in secret, angels that don't agree with Heavans rules and secretly. They keep him up to date on what Heavens up to, so he starts forging a plan after learning of the angelic army.

Once Adam and Eve die, and they arrive in Heaven. Eve starts to live her afterlife in peace, waiting for her children.

Lucifer learned of a new weapon Heaven was making, something that could control a part of Heavens power. Once he learns that new weapon will be Adam, Lucifer decides to take Adam for himself.

Luicfer manages to get himself back into heaven, without them knowing, he's shocked to see that he was completely remade, hopefully his memories were in tacked.

---

Lucifer materialized in a cage-like room, he had no idea something this dark and unkempt could belong in Heaven. It made him almost uneasy.

Lucifer: why would they keep their precious first man here?

The darkness was almost suffocating, like it was affecting the air itself. The angelic steel bars still managed to shine bright, using that light, Lucifer squinted inside the cage, his eyes widened as he saw the vague outline of a body, kneeling on the floor, a chain connecting to the back wall to a silver collar around their neck.

Lucifer: Adam? Buddy, is that you? Long time no see-!

The body moved, head tilting up, and looking ahead. The scrapping of heavy chains against the stone floor made Lucifer wince a tad. Why are they using such thick chains on him? He's a human, nothing special.

Lucifer: I know we left off on a bad note! But I'd like to make it up to you~ let me help you with whatever the HELL Heaven is doing to you, huh?

Lucifer stuck his arm through the bars, smiling as the metal started to bed and melt away. His smile stopped as a giant hand reached out, and grabbed his hand. The amount of strength was impressive, Lucifer was so confused- he followed the outline of the person as they stood.

Lucifer: you're a big fuck aren't you-?

Adam: w-will you help me? I-it hurts-

Lucifer: I can see that buddy, I'll help you! But you have to do something for me~

Lucifer pulled his hand away, and straightened his outfit. It's taking a lot of his power to stay in Heaven, hidden.

Adam: y-yes sir, what do you need?

Lucifer: stop with the formalities Adam! We've been friends- well, acquaintances for years now!

Adam: I-I'm sorry sir- I don't know you, Heavens never introduced u-us-. P-please forgive me f-for not knowing you

Adam starts to collapse, but manages to catch himself against the wall. Never heard of him? Lucifer is definitely confused now. Fucking Heaven, they really think there's a good enough reason to mess with a humans memories? Why Adam? Why did the angels pick him? It doesn't matter at the moment, Lucifer needs to make his deal, let Adam fall to Hell, and set his plan into motion.

Lucifer: i- uh... never mind that right now buddy, I'll explain everything later. If you make a deal with me, I can help you!

Adam: w-what do you need from me-?

Lucifer: oh, nothing much~ just your soul~ aand your loyalty, company, body amd whatever power you have~! All for your freedom. You will cone with me, stay with me, at my home~ you'll be free Adam, free to speak your mind, do whatever you want, within reason of course- and most importantly, think for yourself.

Lucifer smiled as Adam made his way over to the edge of the cage, he was unsteady but doing a good job at staying up right. Although that chain wasn't helping. Lucifer couldn't help but gasp, as Adam's face came into what little light the bars had. His eyes were gold. Brighter than any other angels, shone like Hell fire.

Lucifer whispered: you're perfect...

Adam: I'll take your deal- please, get m-me out o-of here- please

Lucifer: of course, Adam! All you have to do, is shake my hand~

Adam watched as a clawed, black ashen hand slipped through the bars. He felt uneasy about this man- angel? He looks familiar but then he was sure he'd remember someone that looked like that.

He reaches out weakly, grabbing Lucifers hand. He jumps and is amazed by the golden light the swirls around them, he can feel it running through his veins like blood. He couldn't help but follow the golden light. His angelic chain drops off his neck, only to be replaced by a golden one. Lucifer couldn't help but think how beautiful Adam looked, covered in gold. It was really his colour.

Lucifer looked on with awe as he saw Adam fully. His golden wings rested weakly against the floor, his eyes wide with that curiosity that Lucifer loved so much. He couldn't help but glare as he saw the cuts and bruises that littered his body and how thin he looked. He was definitely taller, but surely Heaven would feed the man.

Lucifer: great! Now, the fun part~

Adam stood back as Lucifer began to melt the steel cage.

Lucifer: there~. Now, we must be quick, we do t want any extra company, do we~?

Adam: n-no sir-

As Adam began to limp out of the cage, he stopped as Lucifer put his hand on his chest, forceful enough to push him back slightly.

Lucifer: now, none of that 'sir' thing Addie~. Even though I am now your king, I was your friend first. Do you know my name?

Adam tried to think of a name, his head started to pound, like he was reaching into some void.

Adam: n-no- I- Agh! It hurts to t-think- to remember

Lucifer glared at the flood, fucking Heaven. He smiled up at Adam, it wasn't his fault.

Lucifer: my name is Lucifer, the king of Hell~! But that last bit isn't important right now, let's go Adam.

Adam grabbed Lucifer's hand, and they walked to the middle of the room, he felt so safe with Lucifer. His hand felt perfect in his, like they were made to be together. Adam couldn't stop looking at him, he was beautiful. He's never seen eyes so red, or skin so smooth. He couldn't help but be fascinated by his clothes-

Lucifer: hold on tight Addie~ I won't drop you, but I need you to hold on

The floor underneath the. Burned to life, a burning circle with strange lettering appeared. Just as Adam was taking it in, he felt a gust of wind made him cover his eyes. When he opened, he was amazed to see Lucifers white and red wings, three sets of them! He's only seen a few angels with multiple sets of wings, but none were as beautiful as Lucifers. Adam couldn't help but reach out and graze a feather with his finger.

Lucifer: you'll get a good touch when we get home Addie~ now, say goodbye to the angels~

Fire from the circle surrounded them, the heat was almost unbearable.

The next thing Adam knew; they were falling.

---

The whole idea is a battle between Heaven and Hell. Lucifer is super possessive of Adam, originally using him as a weapon to help him bring down and take control of Heaven. But Lucifer can't help but start having feelings from Eden resurface, it's either a blessing or a curse that Adam doesn't remember anything. Maybe he can make the first man fall for him again, and they can rule over Hell and Heaven together.

Hopefully this is interesting in someway 💀

Okay- bye!

Oh this is SUPER INTERESTING!!! How do you come up with this stuff it's amazing. Also, I love possessive Lucifer lol

-

Adam saw a world bathed mainly in different hues of red, even the sky was red with a giant star.

What was this place?

Lucifer was torn between watching where he was flying and looking at Adams face that was filled with curiosity trying to figure out where the Hell he was.

Literally Hell.

Lucifer dipped down and made a way towards Morningstar Manor and he touched down lightly at the front of the house as he held Adam close.

Lucifer: Let's get you settled in okay? You know, before the physical changes catch up with you and wipe you out.

Adam didn't know what he was talking about but he didn't really care. He was finally out of that cage to never be chained up like an animal ever again.

Lucifer took him inside, first to the kitchen so the poor man could get something to fucking eat. It looked like he hadn't eaten since he died.

He got his chef to cook a lavish meal for Adam to make sure the first man was full.

Adam: Thank you...

Lucifer ran his fingers through Adams hair, loving how soft the brown strands were.

Lucifer: You'll need your strength.~

[russilton]

Sorry but it's obvious Mercedes wants George to be above Lewis in wdc and is doing everything to achieve this. I don't know why you justify this team so much.

I honestly loved your account and your opinion but I just can't agree with you here. Ferrari does stupid things but at least they don't play with showy priorities.

Why would they want that though- genuinely, why would they want that, it makes them no extra money, it gets people yelling at them, and they have had multiple DNF’s for George this year that sure seem like a bad look if they’re trying to master mind this shit. In this race that masterminding would lose them points and money, Merc never, ever, want a situation where they lose money. They are a business.

Merc suffer from successful idiot syndrome- when they do a risky thing and it works out they look like geniuses, but sometimes you do a risky thing, it doesn’t work out, and to everyone you look like morons. Look at Oscar passing George now when he started 5th. George also would have come out behind Lewis had he not ran long with yuki— but as shown ultimately Merc’s strategy was safer than McLaren’s, but makes them look bland when mclarens risk works out. If there has been an early safety car like there usually is, or if he had made overtakes on the start, Lewis would have looked clever as hell for going soft

Tire picks are not uniquely up to the driver, but they are also not decided arbitrarily by the team either- they are made in combination with strategy and lewis’ engineers Mike and Bono, there’s a reason Lewis Bono and Mike will have seperate meetings on Saturday to Lewis Marcus and Chris. They are working in combination but still racing each other, look at SPA— that was not them deciding not to do for Lewis what they did for George, that was lewis’ team playing it safe, and not accounting for George’s team having nothing to lose and playing risky.

All of this is really boring, it doesn’t sound as compelling or spicy as some great conspiricy theory about fucking one driver or the other over as we have had FOR THREE LONG YEARS, but it’s just what’s happening when you don’t have the quickest car and you’re trying to claw ahead of the quicker guy ahead. I would love some great silver bullet that if we pulled would fix everything but it doesn’t work like that. Sometimes you gamble on something with your best assumption as to what might happen, and you don’t get it, racing is boring like that, because you can’t will your way to being be a bit faster like in a foot race, you are limited by the car you have.

I know this is annoying and it feels extra shitty because you can’t do anything about it, and if there’s a greater plot then you can justify that feeling easier, “I can’t get by because they are out to get me” is easier than “I can’t get by bc we just don’t have a good enough car”

But that’s the reality of this sport. And it’s so fucking annoying I get it, you think I don’t frequently partake in “McLaren’s are cheating and redbull is evil and my special guys deserve more” ? Of course I do, that’s also part of the sport. If I had had my way Lewis would have won today I wanted it so badly, but as evidenced by McLaren and ferrari getting by us we just didn’t get it right today. It sucks whole ass but that’s what it is.

Grit your teeth, kick a wall, curse the heavens, move on.

[haladriel]

so now we know his backstory I’m going to make a case for why Saurbrand didn’t think twice about abandoning Diarmid to his death for his own gain, but for some reason, only days or weeks later, dove to save Galadriel.

We are shown in season two that Sauron is mercenary and super calculating; he sizes everyone up for the best way to use them to further his own aims. And the way he’s now treating everyone else shows how different he was with Galadriel.

Diarmid’s fate shows Sauron’s ‘default’ — despite all Diarmid’s done for him in giving him a new perspective and offering him a new direction, when the situation veers a hard left, he wastes no time adapting and thinks nothing of acting strategically and taking the pouch. After all, Diarmid’s conveniently dying, and unlikely to survive a shipwreck anyway, what else is there to gain in service of his goals and nature that’s worth as much as a royal persona to adopt?

When you set this against how he treats Galadriel (i.e. didn’t leave her to die, which he very easily could’ve done), you’ve got to ask: what’s going on in there?

Maybe he thought he could use her: she’s a lot more skilled and important than Diarmid. She’s certainly proven herself capable in the sea-wyrm attack, where he no doubt values skill and competence in service of creating perfection and order, and keeping someone as powerful as her close is a wise political move. He very likely thought he could manipulate her, although he didn’t know how, or to what ends, quite yet.

Maybe he was simply interested in her. A member of the Golden House of Finarfin, out on the open sea? Since when? He might’ve guessed at the reason why; knowing that she was in the right direction for Valinor. An elf who has turned down the opportunity to go home? Unheard of.

Maybe, it’s the beginning of seeing himself reflected in her, when she sympathises with him about all he’s lost. He found himself being honest with her, in a way that he later does with no other; their first exchange on the raft was the beginning of that pattern. Maybe he is attracted to her, in this way.

Maybe it’s because why the hell not. At this point in the (now filled in) backstory, he is down and out and taking chances. Because his plan is going so well. And maybe the sea (Valar) will reconsider obliterating them if he shows some sign of repentance, holds a hand up. Maybe he knows the storm is for him, and feels some kind of ire and vitriol — ‘up yours’ — towards the Valar (‘that’s unnecessary, you heavy-handed bastards’) that they’re taking her out, as a part of that.

Maybe, it’s all of the above. And also, maybe, it’s because he’s already seeing some of that light he’s so fascinated by. In her kindness, her offering of sympathy to a stranger. And also, at this time, finds that he resonates with things she’s saying as much as vice versa. ‘You’re running. Whether towards or from something, I haven’t yet decided.’ After all, at this point, he’s temporarily diverted from his own crusade to get revenge on Adar; possibly running to, or away, from the Valar.

‘The way I see it, it wasn’t elves that chased me from my homeland. It was orcs.’ Turns out, it literally was. He’s really pissed off with his old family at this point and potentially (even just a little bit) wondering if there’s a better way. When he tells her the enemy is in the Southlands… they are. His enemy.

When you were betrayed by your closest, and everything’s gone to shit, and you meet someone who feels so similar to you, but who radiates light instead… how could you not be fascinated?

When everything you irrevocably are can be used in a different way, for a different purpose?

So he dives to save her.

(contributors to this thought train @multifandumbmeg @scifitheywrote)

[haveyouanytime]

omg im obsessed with your rust domestic blurbs pls anything with rust braiding reader's hair

not even going to lie... i took a month because i was stuck on a different ask just for it to barely click yesterday... i could answer asks out of order. i wish i was joking i'm very embarrassed ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) anyway more old dog rust !!! <333

Often, you felt like the Louisiana heat got to you like no other. It took a long while to get used to the sheen of sweat that seemed to linger on your skin like an unmoveable force. Hot and humid summers were foreign to you, and it was only then that you missed your cooler Alaskan summer. 

Swimming in the lake was an option, so was standing under the garden hose or the sprinklers. Any and all options led to a reasonable conclusion, a nice shower. The soap and water were like a baptism, washing away any stickiness from your overheated skin, leaving you feeling anew and smelling like lavender (or cedarwood, if you decided to use Rust’s soap). 

But more often than not, the best conclusion was being fresh out of the shower and walking to the living room, finding Rust nursing his usual beer, sitting with his legs in a dominating spread as a black and white movie played on your small TV. His hair was down, a rare sight only you were gifted. His dirty golden locks going a little ways past his shoulders, and it was only a matter of time before he asked you to give him a little trim. His hair tie sat on the wrist of his hand holding the beer, the other holding the back of the couch. He seemed so relaxed, and you hesitated moving to him in hopes of giving him a moment more of the relaxation he deserved but often rejected. 

The creak of the floor gave you away, making Rust turn his head to you. You stood in the doorway to the living room, only in in a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt that was stretched out at the collar, your hair still wet with a few droplets falling onto the shirt. He smirked at the sight, looking at you from over his left shoulder. 

“C’mere, baby,” He croons, his voice raspy from the cigarettes and dark liquor. He places his beer on the neighboring side table as you walk over, perching yourself in his lap. With your legs thrown across his, your arm moving around his back and his holding onto your hip, both of you fell into the familiar embrace. A weary smile pulled at his lips, and his hand moved off of the back of the couch to run through your damp hair, exposing the expanse of your neck. He took advantage of that, leaning in and placing a few soft kisses on the exposed skin. You couldn’t help but let out a small, airy giggle as the kisses traveled down to your collarbones the stretched shirt left bare. 

“Tsk, what’s so funny?” He asked, pulling away to look up at you. It might’ve been the fact that he was in a good mood, or it was the lighting of the room, or the ambiance of the old romantic movie on the TV, but you couldn’t help but admire Rust for a moment. His strong nose. How the warm light of the lamp turned his blue eyes the shade of an unnameable, alluring blue. His cheekbones, his lips, the loose strands of hair that fell in front of his face. 

“Your mustache’s tickly,” You smile, looking down at Rust. You run your own fingers through his hair to push it back, abandoning it at the nape of his neck to brush your pointer finger against his mustache, smoothing it out against the top of his lip. “Gonna need a trim soon, hm?” 

“We’ll worry about that later,” He answered, holding your wrist to give your fingertip a playful nip with his teeth. His hands move to hold your waist, lowly speaking, “C’mon, baby.” You moved with his gentle lead, him scooting back and letting you sit between his spread legs on the sparse space on the couch, your back facing his chest. You felt a smile pull at your lips again, already feeling his fingers moving through your hair. He gently pulled your hair back, forming it all it a small ponytail before his fingers spread it carefully into three parts. 

You remembered the first time he braided your hair, the surprise that you felt that a man so rugged and masculine as he could give you a nice, neat braid. He first gave an excuse of working on the fishing docs in Alaska and something about ropes. It was a few times later that he spoke of his daughter, about how he used to braid her hair. It struck a cord within you, an aching, twinging reminder in your chest of his life far, far before you. The man you loved was an enigma, his heart and mind a labyrinth you wanted to spend years inside of just to truly know him. 

“You’re awful quiet tonight,” Rust spoke up, his fingers moving languidly through your hair to dance it into a nice braid. “You’re normally chirpin’ my ear off, pretty girl.” 

“Just thinking,” You softly answer, adjusting the loose shirt on your shoulders as your eyes rise to the TV. The black and white movie showed a couple embracing at a train station, kissing the way they did in old movies. 

“Careful with that, now,” He playfully cautioned, reaching the end of your hair and carefully looping his dark hair tie around the ends to hold your braid in place. “Don’t get lost up there.” 

“I want to get lost up there,” You answer, turning on his lap again to sit sideways and placing a light tap on his forehead. 

“No, you don’t, pretty girl.” He answered, his voice losing it’s playful edge. He gently holds your wrist, carefully holding you on his lap. “I’ll give you a few peeks now and then, but I don’t want you to travel too far.” 

You couldn’t help but smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and placing a soft peck on his lips, his mustache tickling your upper lip again. “I’ll take those. Maybe I can convince you to give me a few more peeks.” 

“I know a way you can convince me,” He grinned, scooping you up in his arms. You can’t help but laugh, feeling his mustache tickle your jawline as he carried you through your small house, your arms holding into him just as tight as he held you. 

[scribbles97]

The Nightmare Come True - Part 3

TW: POW, Torture Scott's POV 1 | Part 1 | Scott's POV 2 | Part 2 | Scott's POV 3 Thanks @loopstagirl for the support and inspiration!

Scott had thanked him. 

Scott had thanked him and it had made the Dog Tags in Jeff’s pocket feel all the heavier. 

“You found me.” 

It had sounded like the kid had never doubted him, and Jeff’s gut had started to refute the statement before he had consciously thought about it. 

Scott, I …

Wouldn’t have stopped until I did. 

I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner. 

Or, perhaps the most truthful of all, 

I didn’t. 

Because Colonel Jeff Tracy had not found Captain Scott Tracy. Instead, his son had been presented to him as a pawn in the game between one country and the rest of the world. It had been Hugh and Kyrano that had worked their magic and found exactly where Scott had been held. 

Hell, it had even been Kyrano that had found him in the cells when Jeff hadn’t heard his own son’s cries for help. 

The nightmare that had woken Scott in a panic and sent all manner of alarms blaring, were proof most of all. 

Jeff hadn’t saved his son. 

He had spent six months trying, and failing, to find him. He had stood by as others had taken action and done all the heavy lifting for him. He had done nothing whilst all that time Scott had been fighting. 

“What’s that look for?”

Jeff looked up from where he had perched on the arm of the chair Scott had fallen asleep in, Val’s whisper breaking into his thoughts. 

“He thinks I saved him, Val.” He murmured back, his hand absently brushing over Scott’s still too short hair, “He thanked me.”

Val eyed him for a long moment before hopping up onto the empty bed, her eyes assessing both he and Scott in a way Jeff had long since come used to. She’d speak when she’d decided what needed to be said, once she’d gotten a full picture of what was happening and the mindset of those involved. It was a skill she used to her full advantage and had seen her rise through the ranks of the Air Force right on Jeff’s tail. 

“The nurses won’t be impressed when they find him out of bed.” She watched him, leaning forward like it was a secret Jeff hadn’t already known the moment Scott had forced himself upright. 

“He needed to move,” He fired back, ready to defend as he had done when the same nurses had tried to force an oxygen mask over Scott’s face, “to not feel trapped.” 

He’d known even before he had asked that he wouldn’t have stopped Scott, even if he had wanted to. His son had always wanted to move, had hated confinement of any sort even when he had been tiny. Lucy had always laughed, insisted that he had gotten it from Jeff himself, and had known that he would inevitably follow his father to the sky where the only limit was the horizon. 

Being bound to a bed, barely able to stay awake, had always felt like …

“You helped him?” Val asked, raising an eyebrow that held no real heat. 

Jeff straightened, prickling at the insinuation he couldn’t quite see, “I was hardly gonna leave him to struggle on his own.” 

Because he had done that once, and even to that day he was seeing the reminders of that very mistake. 

Scott hadn’t wanted help, had been determined to push through and manage on his own even when he was exhausted and hurting. Jeff had partly fallen back on his Colonel Voice to get the Captain to listen, and it had twisted something deep in his gut that it had come to that. 

He knew the way Scott had leaned into him after he had thrown up had been subconscious, and definitely something he wouldn’t have done had he been more awake. It was for the same reason that Scott hadn’t actively called out for Jeff, except for in his nightmares. 

A much younger Scott had needed his father, and he hadn’t been there, so at some point the kid had stopped asking for him. 

Jeff had come back to his son’s though, and had sworn every day that he would be there for them. He would pick them up when they fell, guide them when they were lost, hold them together when they fell apart. 

Alan had just been young enough to still ask for him. 

Gordon had his moments, but had followed an example set by his older brothers. 

Virgil had always been his mother’s son, and whilst he would ask for Jeff, he knew his mother had always been the parent he had called for first. 

John wasn’t like the others, had always needed someone to see when he needed help rather than simply ask for it. 

Scott had once been like Virgil, except the oldest had been his father’s son where Virgil had been his mother’s. When Jeff had fallen into his grief, Scott had fallen to not wanting to ask for help. Ever since had had come to his senses, Jeff had been watching and doing his best to give his son what he needed. 

“You’re protecting him.” Val stated softly, the smallest of smiles playing on her lips. 

Jeff looked down again, Scott’s face slack in dreamless sleep, peaceful. 

He’d do anything to keep his son feeling that at peace, but he knew he couldn’t stop the nightmares that would come eventually.

“I didn’t protect him from them, nobody protected him.” He whispered, “He saved his crew, and he saved himself, I just turned up to pull him outta there.” 

“Maybe.” Val nodded slowly, “or maybe you turned up right when he needed you to.”

Jeff frowned across to her, “What do you mean?”

Her look was soft as she sighed, “They train us hard for what happens in prison, tell us what to do, what to say. There’s no training for this though, is there? For what comes after.”

He knew she was right, there was no guidebook or protocol for what Scott was going through. There was no command that his son could follow to make it better. 

Unless…

He felt sick at the thought, not confident that Scott was really ready for it. 

Command was something he could do though, something Jeff had seen him demonstrate a handful of times since he had woken up. He had found his voice again, rooted deep and found the stubbornness that ran strong in his genes to get himself from the bed to the chair. There was still something more needed though, something to get him to see exactly how strong he had been through everything. 

“Tomorrow,” He swallowed, “I’ll talk to him about a debrief.”

If Val was surprised by his statement, she hid it well. 

“I can’t get you in on it.” She stated with a heavy sigh, “But if he agrees, I’ll find a way for you to listen in.”

Jeff wasn’t sure he was ready for that, to hear exactly what Scott had gone through without being at his side to support him through the memories. He trusted Val though, knew she had stood up for the rest of the squadron, and knew that she would do the same if not more for the man sleeping at Jeff’s side. 

Slipping off the bed, she crossed the room to squeeze his shoulder with a silent nod before leaving them as quietly as she had come.

***

The nurses hadn’t passed comment when they had come to check on Scott, and Jeff said nothing in return as he scratched gently at his son’s scalp and thought about how stiff he would be when he did eventually wake. He deserved peace, the chance to rest undisturbed for as long as his mind would allow him. 

Jeff’s phone buzzing in his pocket startled him as he hurried to answer it before it woke Scott. 

“Virgil.” He hissed, glancing down to Scott, grateful to see him undisturbed despite the blue-tinged hologram lighting up the room. 

His middle son looked firstly shocked and then guilty across the miles, “Sorry Dad, I just-- is that… Scott?” 

Jeff realized too late that Scott would have been in the frame and immediately shifted the field to hide the eldest away from his younger brother’s eyes. 

“He’s sleeping.” He murmured, “He’s still recovering.” 

Virgil nodded quickly, eyes still clearly shocked at whatever he had picked up on of his eldest brother’s state.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have-- I just--”

Jeff straightened, already heightened senses picking up on the tone and immediately knowing the root of why his son had called. He glanced to the clock on the wall, a digital thing that showed the date in big bold numbers beneath the time. A quick mental calculation reminded him that Virgil had a recital that day, a solo he had been practicing since before Scott had been gone. 

They had both voiced hope that he would be home to see it. 

“What is it, son?” He asked softly, “Can your Grandmother still make it today?”

Virgil nodded quickly, glancing away from the phone before looking back again, “Yeah, Grandma’s still coming.” 

His voice didn’t hold its usual enthusiasm in anticipation of playing for his family. 

“I know you hoped he’d be home for this.” Jeff murmured, his free hand scratching over Scott’s scalp again, “We all did.” 

Virgil looked away again, someone out of field calling him, “I… it’s my turn for final rehearsal.”

Jeff smiled softly, understanding without the words needing to be asked, “I’m sure we could stay on the line whilst you play.”

Virgil’s face lit up, his eyes losing most of the worry that had settled there at the sight of his big brother, “You can? Ms Graham said it was fine but Grandma sid the doctors might--”

Jeff waved him off, quickly assuring him that the doctors could say all they wished. Scott had always encouraged Virgil to play, he was certain to appreciate the soft melodies even in his sleep. 

Or not, if the hand that reached to Jeff’s leg was of any indication. 

He glanced down as Virgil placed the phone on the corner of the piano, noting how Scott’s eyes were still rested closed even as he yawned. Reaching down, he rested his free hand over his son’s, unsurprised when Scott moved his hand to grip the best he could in response. 

Awake, listening, but not ready to face his brother was the summary Jeff came to as Virgil began to play.

He wasn’t sure when Scott’s body had tensed against him, but as the music floated through the speaker of his phone, Jeff noticed as slowly each part of Scott fully relaxed. Muscles that he was certain must have been tense for months, softened and lengthened as the melody flowed over them. The splinted fingers that had tried to curl around Jeff’s hand loosened until they were no longer holding on but resting lightly against Jeff’s palm. His eyes were open but distant, focussed somewhere in the middle of the floor but not really seeing the room they were in as the notes wrapped them in something soothing and calm. 

They perhaps could have sat like that forever, at peace with the music that had once been Lucy’s. Every song had it’s end though, and all too soon Virgil was looking back to the hologram with a smile much softer than the one he had given earlier. 

“Night Scott, night Dad.” He murmured softly before hanging up without another word. 

Jeff smiled to himself as he repocketed his phone, glancing down to Scott with a raised eyebrow, “How about we get you into bed? You’ll feel it tomorrow if you sleep here all night.”

Scott grunted as he shifted upright, clearly already feeling it after the few hours he had been sat in the chair. His eyes darted across the room to the bed, his jaw tensing as he gauged the distance he had to move. 

For a brief moment, Jeff thought he would need to convince his son to accept help once more, but right as he was about to step in front of him, Scott turned and held out his arms. 

“Easy does it, right?” Jeff had asked through his surprise, stepping up and supporting Scott’s weight just as he had done so earlier. 

Together they had shuffled back to the bed, Scott’s weight shifting more and more on to Jeff the further they got. Not that he minded, hell, Jeff would carry his son across that room a thousand times if it made things better.

“Dad?” Scott slurred as he sunk back into the pillows. 

“Yes, kiddo?”

“Tell Aunt Val you can lis’en.” 

By the time Jeff had interpreted just what Scott meant, the kid was asleep. 

***

Val had brought the Generals with her the next afternoon after a more lucid Scott had agreed to the debrief. She had stood at the door as the pair had introduced themselves and then asked Jeff to leave the room. 

He would never forgive the United States Air Force for what had followed when Scott had gripped onto his sleeve and stated in no uncertain terms that he wished for his father to stay. For a brief moment, Jeff had been assured that Scott would be fine as a flicker of the self-confident son shone through in the face of his superiors. 

Those superiors had instantly extinguished the flame.

There had been no gentle reminders, or soft explanations, no understanding or care for what the airman in the bed had been through whilst they had sat in their ivory towers. Without hesitation, one had barked a sharp reminder across the room, 

“You’ll do well to remember who’s in charge here, Captain.” 

Scott had instantly cowered, turning away from the authority figures and looking to Jeff with the same fear that he had found him with back in the cells. The hand that Jeff had taken in his own had been clammy and had shook as he held on to it tight. 

“Son, you listen to me,” He had told him, ignoring the pair at his back, “I’ll be right down the hall. You tell them everything that happened, and as soon as you’re done I’ll be right back here.”

It had taken a long moment before Scott had nodded and released Jeff’s arm enough for him to leave. 

As soon as he was out the door, he had shoved in the earbud Val had slipped to him and hurried to the office down the hall she had cleared for him. 

There he had listened, barely breathing, as Scott had recounted every detail of the six months he had been gone. 

From departing for the mission, to being shot down. 

From being helped by the villagers they were meant to be saving, to being captured. 

From being thrown in a cell with the rest of his squad, to fighting to protect them when their captors had come to interrogate them. 

It had all been almost robotic, Jeff could tell his son had slipped and fallen back to the Air Man he had been six months ago. There was no emotion there, the Generals didn’t have an interest in how their people felt, just one simple fact after another. 

“Your squadron told us--”

“You debriefed my people without me?” Scott cut in, “Sir, protocol dictates that any debrief should be--”

“You were unavailable, Captain.” Val told him gently, “Protocol was followed given the circumstance.”

“Your squadron described to us how you protected them.” One General continued, as if there hadn’t been an interruption, “Did you not trust them, Captain?”

Scott’s voice held the same flicker it had earlier as he responded, “I trust them all with my life, Sir.”

“So why take the beatings in their place?”

Anger curdled in Jeff’s own stomach, it had not been as simple as beatings, even he knew that much. The animals had tortured Scott and his squad, first for information and then, he imagined, just because they could. 

“It was torture, Sir.” Scott’s voice held an edge to it, sharp and dangerous, “I wasn’t going to let my people suffer more than they needed to, not if I could help it.”

“Your squad say you bartered with your captors, is that correct?”

“I bartered to protect them.”

“Yet it wasn’t enough, was it, Captain? You still lost half your team.”

There was a long pause, a quiet shuffling and a soft murmur of assurance from Val before Scott responded. 

“I failed my people, Sir.”

Jeff bowed his head, screwing his eyes shut to force his own tears away. Scott had failed nobody, he had done his best to protect his people in any way he had been able. He had stayed strong and fought, Jeff had seen how fiercely Scott protected his own, had been called to the principal's office over fights caused by bullies too many times to count.

“Why did they separate you?”

“Sir?”

“Your squad told us that just before their rescue, your captors split you from a group cell to individual cells. Why was this?”

“I don’t know, Sir.”

“So, in all your bartering, they never gave you anything?”

“They stayed away from my people.” Scott answered, his voice wavering, “They hurt me instead of them.”

“But they didn’t, did they Captain? They still hurt your comrades, didn’t they?”

Jeff felt his heart drop, the insinuation hitting him square in the chest. 

“Not as badly as they could have, Sir.” 

“What are you insinuating, General?” Val’s voice held as much ire as Jeff felt. 

“We find it awfully convenient that the Captain is reported to have bartered with the guards and was then hidden away when the extraction team arrived.”

Jeff slammed his fist on the desk, sending pens scattering across the floor as he half stood from the seat he had taken. How dare they imply that Scott had betrayed his country! They hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen the scars or the nightmares, hadn’t heard their son scream their name like they couldn’t hear him. 

“You want to know where I was when they came?” 

Scott’s anger had always burned hot and fast, explosive against anyone that stood against him. It was something he had gotten from Jeff himself, a trait he had tried and failed to move him away from. 

Up the hallway, in a hospital bed, unable to stand for himself, Scott’s anger burned equally as hot but in a far more dangerous way. There hadn’t been any quiver in his question, each word had come as clear as the one before, his tone low and blunt. Anyone that had known the boy’s mother would have heard her as Jeff did in that question, and they would have known that whatever came next was far more dangerous than an explosion. 

“Please, enlighten us, Captain.”

Scott’s breaths turned ragged for a moment, anger and panic mixing briefly before a long breath was drawn in. 

“They put me in Solitary. To the right of the room where I was found, there was a concealed entrance, a room five by five.” 

Jeff felt sick as he remembered the screams for help he had heard over the phone, and he knew. 

“They took me there three times, General, and they left me there for weeks. Did my team tell you that? Did they tell you how they all thought I was dead the first time because I was gone for so long? Did they tell you how I couldn’t stand for a fortnight after they let me out? Did they tell you how I came back covered in my own filth because the guards thought it would remind me what sort of pig I was?”

Jeff was torn between pride and anger, between needing to listen and needing to stop. He’d had ideas, had made assumptions about everything his son must have been through, but he wasn’t sure any of them had quite matched the reality he was hearing as Scott ranted. 

“I was in there when they were saved! And I came out thinking they were dead and that I’d failed them all. That was when I gave up. That was when they could have killed me and I wouldn’t have cared.”

Jeff found himself gripping the desk to keep himself seated, his stomach churning enough that he thought about reaching for the waste bin. Scott had given up, had been ready to let them win. If Kyrano hadn’t have found him when he did…

“I think your people should be checking for that hidden room, General.” Val’s voice was the cool balm Jeff needed to hear, “That and the Squadron’s statements should be confirmation enough of Captain Tracy’s loyalty to the Force.”

Jeff didn’t wait for her text to confirm it was clear for him to return. He didn’t acknowledge the Generals as he passed them in the hallway. He didn’t stop for anything or anyone until his arms were wrapped around his son. 

Scott clung to him in return, a raw sob breaking free the moment that Val left them alone. 

“I’ve got you kiddo.” He murmured into his hair, “You’ve been so strong, I’m so proud. You didn’t fail, you saved Jen and Gary and Sienna, you did good Scott. You’re so brave.” 

His son’s tears weren’t like the ones that came before, they lacked the shaking grip that had come with fear and memories of terror that had been haunting him since he had woken up. 

His sobs were raw, his grip solid and sure against Jeff’s back, like he had finally realized that his father wasn’t going anywhere without him. He wasn’t sure if it was relief, anger, or something else that fueled them, but it was something.

He held on and kept repeating the soothing mantra until the sobs subsided into long aching breaths and Scott pulled back, clearly spent. 

“Dad?” He murmured, eyes drifting as Jeff repositioned himself to take hold of his hand.

“Yeah, kiddo?”

HIs eyes flickered to him, brow furrowing as he spoke, “I lied to them.” 

Jeff leant closer, holding on to Scott’s hand with both of his, “To who?”

“The Generals. Told ‘em I didn’t care. I did though, I wanted to come home, wanted to see the boys, and wanted to see you. Then you found me.”

He pulled Scott back to his chest, hugging him tightly as his own tears broke free and ran down into his son’s hair. 

[penkura]

Special [2/2]

Note: Second part from this request here! Sorry it took so long, I've been burnt out and just struggling to get things out lately. I'll have an update post later today, I think.

Sanji really does feel awful when he realizes what’s going on with you, why you walked away and said you wouldn’t bother anymore. He hates how he’s made you feel, without even realizing it, but he never expected you would actually like him back. He’d resigned himself to the fact that, in his mind, you didn’t have any feelings for him nor would you ever. He’s used to it but for some reason it hit harder when he thought it was you that would reject him.

So he never said anything. He treated you normally, as normally as he could when he thought you were so perfect, but it seems like he's made a mistake. He’s made you think there’s something wrong with the way you look, when it couldn’t be farther from the truth. Nami has heard it so much from him she’s started rolling her eyes while Sanji nearly cries to her about how much he adores you.

No, how much he loves you. He’s not told anyone else, only Nami, making her concern3d the moment she notices you avoiding and ignoring him. Once she gets Sanji to tell her what happened, she’s so close to smacking him upside the head for being so stupid.

“Of course she’s upset, you’re an idiot!”

Nami spends the better part of her afternoon berating Sanji, who cant even argue with her and just nods in agreement to everything she says. She stops him before he can even ask for ideas on what to do so he can make it up to you.

“No, you’re doing that yourself this time.”

It takes him most of the day to decide what he could do, what he could say, so it surprises you when he finally shows up after dinner that evening. He’s not looking you in the eyes, but he has your favorite flowers with him, it makes your heart ache a bit, believing he’s done this to every girl he’s ever upset in the past so you don’t move to take the flowers. You’re trying to stop your feelings, he's making it so hard though.

“Sanji—”

“[Y/N], I’m so sorry I made you feel like you aren’t special to me. I…it’s no excuse, but I didn’t think you’d ever have feelings for me like I do for you so I was trying to distract myself from you,” it starts to make sense, but you still don’t move, you’re not entirely sure you can trust him, “If you never forgive me I deserve it, but…can you give me a second chance? No, that’s not right…let me have the chance to make it up to you, and prove you’re so much more than to me than you think you are.”

You’re both quiet for a few moments, Sanji believes you’re completely done with him while you think it through.

A conflict between crewmates over something is always a possibility, but when it’s due to romantic feelings it feels weirdly worse to you. It feels like you’re letting it take over everything, but you’ve had these feelings for so long that you aren’t sure they’ll ever go away, even if you are trying to stop it. You still want to be his friend if nothing else, though it almost seems like he may want something more.

That’s something to discuss later.

Sanji starts to feel like things will get better when you reach out and take the flowers, not looking at him even when he looks up at you.

“…you can make my favorite dessert to start…and explain yourself better.”

The grin on his face makes you smile just a little bit in return, as Sanji nods and takes your hand to bring you to the kitchen.

“I’ll start right away while you put those in water! I’ll make you whatever drink you want too!”

“That sounds nice, Sanji…”

Before you get too much farther, Sanji stops and pulls you into a hug that you return.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t special to me…you mean more to me than anyone else in the world.” You’re going to choose to believe him, especially when Sanji goes the extra mile to make sure you know how much he loves you.

[saintsenara]

At what age do you think Snape joined the death eaters? And when do you think he got the dark mark? (it's hard for me to believe that all death eaters got them right when they joined, but if you think differently, I'm open to reading why)

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i'm currently writing a big "snape's experience in the first war" fic - scylla and charybdis [don't be put off by the pairing! it's really all about politics! don't be put off by that either!] - so this is, unsurprisingly, a question i've spent a lot of time musing on.

the timeline i'm laying out in that fic is that snape's first contact with the death eaters as an organisation comes in the summer of 1976 - when he's just finished his fifth year of school and is, since his relationship with lily has only just broken down, raw and angry and unmoored, and primed for radicalisation.

it's clear in canon that the death eaters were recruiting openly at hogwarts during the 1970s, especially within slytherin, by exploiting not only the social networks caused by all the pureblood families being interrelated, but also the social ties which existed between recent graduates and those still at school. lucius malfoy - for example - is heavily implied in the text to be one of voldemort's primary sources of new recruits, and to be the person responsible for putting snape in touch with the dark lord specifically.

[it's also clear that this is an element of voldemort's recruitment process that the order are spectacularly naive about - the reaction to harry's belief in half-blood prince that draco malfoy has been marked as a death eater is a case in point. slughorn's complete unwillingness to do anything about the death eaters looking for fresh meat is a key part of this - but dumbledore's failure to intervene is also significant.]

i decided, then, to have lucius tell voldemort - whose operation would need potions for all sorts of reasons [poisons, healing potions for terrorists who can't just rock up at st mungo's, illicit brews for the black market] - that he knows a potions prodigy who, as he's uncovered through his network of contacts at hogwarts, is sympathetic to the dark lord's cause. voldemort then begins a long, multi-stage vetting process to test if this is true - snape is instructed to make a potion of dubious legality and deliver it to one of voldemort's agents, who reveals the criminal use it will be put to. when snape doesn't contact the aurors, the process repeats, with him gradually moving up a chain of command - from a low-level petty criminal [voldemort's version of mundungus fletcher] up to the dark lord's spymaster general, augustus rookwood. having passed the test with rookwood, he is then permitted to meet voldemort.

my view is that snape spends the final two years of his schooling being subjected to a voldemort-sanctioned charm offensive, the most important part of which is the dark lord promising him a salaried job as a potioneer once he leaves hogwarts.

i say this a lot, but it's clear in canon that snape was particularly susceptible to voldemort's propaganda because he believed [not incorrectly!] that the dark lord would offer him opportunities which his blood status and class background would ordinarily deny him - and i think we can assume that the wizarding version of academic science [which - as i've said here, in a longer meta on snape's training, seems to retain its early-modern structure, and therefore rely on personal wealth rather than institutional settings] is one of the things he believed he had no chance of pursuing.

and so, when snape graduates in 1978, i think he becomes a death eater full time - working for voldemort on a stipend paid by the malfoys. i don't think that he's given the dark mark until he's been in voldemort's service for several months, but i don't think he's kept from it for too long either.

[not least because snape's entire relationship with the mark is hubristic - he's so ashamed of it in the second war because he was so proud of it in the first - which means that he has to be given it before voldemort settles on harry as the child referred to in the prophecy in the latter half of 1980.]

my view is that voldemort doesn't have a set timeline for granting the mark, but instead offers it to his followers whenever he thinks it will be most useful [to him] for him to do so.

draco malfoy, for example, is clearly marked the second voldemort decides to use him to kill dumbledore - and voldemort does this as a way of emphasising the utter disregard in which he holds lucius malfoy following the prophecy debacle, by taking ownership of [and quite literally branding] his son. i think regulus is given the mark similarly quickly after joining the death eaters - not because voldemort has any particular interest in him but because, as i've said in this meta on him, regulus is evidently accepted into voldemort's inner circle because he's related to other prominent death eaters, and so giving him the mark is a way for voldemort to keep these death eaters [bellatrix in particular] happy. on the other hand, i am certain that peter pettigrew doesn't receive his dark mark until 1994, after he's restored voldemort to the semi-body which allows him to be moved, brought him to england, and helped him contact barty crouch jr. and put the plan to kidnap harry in motion - and that voldemort dangled the promise of the mark [without ever seriously intending to grant it] over him in 1980-81, as a way of keeping him loyal, deferential, and eager to please. he's implied to be doing something similar with fenrir greyback in deathly hallows.

voldemort, master manipulator that he is, will have been very well aware that snape's fundamental pathology is a desire for respect. the teen snape wants to be recognised for his brilliance - and, indeed, his superiority - by those who currently consider him beneath them. he wants james and sirius to cower before him because they recognise that he's fundamentally better than them - despite their wealth and their social position - and he wants lily to choose him over james because she recognises this too.

and so i think snape would regard a quick dark mark as a participation trophy - something someone like regulus gets because they're a toff, but not something which indicates that voldemort holds the bearer in high esteem. but he's also not going to be prepared to wait for years with the mark dangling over his head like a carrot, because he'd regard that as voldemort being perfectly willing to give the posh the mark just for being rich and annoying, but not being willing to recognise that he's the superior recruit.

what he'd want - and what, i presume, he gets - is for him to be rewarded with the mark for doing something specific for voldemort which he thought displayed his brilliance perfectly and which voldemort was happy to indulge him in thinking.

and i have two suggestions for what that could be.

a. snape assists voldemort in the creation of the potion which guards the locket-horcrux [not, of course, knowing exactly what it would be used for], which adds another layer to his involvement in dumbledore's death [and - which is relevant in scylla and charybdis at least - also involves him in regulus']. b. voldemort gives him the mark for reporting the prophecy.

[bunnysthirstcorner]

A short and spicy DinoClassico X reader/oc : Dino gets possessive and jealous after a gala meeting in which other vamps seemed a bit too friendly with his woman!

Warnings: Posessive!Dino, some spice as well as general red flagness that this man is known for.

I had alot of fun with this! I hope it was what you wanted.

The air was sweet; Sickingly sweet.

The Aristocrat hated the rich perfumes that the wealthy women wore. His poor vampiric senses could only take so much but despite this he could tell where his beloved 5th and final wife was at due to the perfume he gifted her, almost like a clear fresh air amongst the decadence of Aristocracy. He had gifted each of his wives this smell so he could tell where they were; Only letting him know when the smell was gone so was the wife. 4 times he endured this and with the advice of his butler, he agreed to marry for the 5th time but he will do so on his terms.

This is where his final wife came into picture; His favorite due to being his choice. He was rather possessive of her as she wasn't of vampire blood but human. A very logical human at that. His son and heir adored her so he decided to keep a closer eye on her during these parties and to his ire; It brought other lords to her like moths to a light due to her being approachable. In the back where he lurked, hunched over as his tired eyes were watching intently as one particular lord places his hand on her shoulder as if they were old friends.

Sickening. Improper.

With the hour from the clock alerted him of the time, he made his move to his wife where he gave a glare to the other lord that spoke 'back off' as he has his hand on her elbow to get her attention.

"Dear, we need to get going, I got message that we need to arrive home." He replied and with not knowing better, his wife agreed and hurried with her goodbyes and left. Once in the carriage was when she asked what the issue was, it was when he took a gloved hand of hers and peeled the glove off. "Oh, its nothing." He replied as this resulted her in tilting her head before she felt a sharpness sinking into her wrist.

Dino took a taste of her rich blood

"Those lords where swarming over what was mine, I didn't think you'd allow such attention....Maybe I should keep you on a shorter leash..." He replied with a cool venom in his tone that spore of his ilk of his previous feelings at the gathering. "What? Dino, dear, don't think that way" You replied in defense as the firm grip he had kept hold on your wrist. "I was only being polite. I never grew up in this life, I didn't want to disgrace the Classico name by being rude." She reasoned, her tone assuring as was her warm gaze onto his.

His eyes looked to hers to see if her words were false but low, they spoke the truth. Licking the ruby off of his thin lips, he gave a small peck to the spot he bit to then have gloved fingers keep the injury from flowing. He didn't speak but his hold spoke of his settled emotions as he looked to her before he leaned to her neck, inhaling the fresh scent before his tongue licked at her pulse point. He could smell her delicious life force as it caused his fangs to itch for a bite but he refused. He wanted her human a bit longer before taking The cursing bite of immortality.

He has to be sure she will stick around.

"D-Dino..." You replied with a small gasp. Your neck has always been a sensitive spot which resorted a small chuckle from him as he then parted, sitting next to her as he released his hold on her wrist. The spot was red but it didn't hurt as much due to his touch.

"When we get home, Go to the bedroom....I will make sure those lords know that you're Lady Classico , not some Debutant to swarm over." he said as the carriage was up the road to the mansion. You felt your cheeks grow hot and pink from the promise of the rare union in bed. 'Would he really keep his promise?' You thought. Surely he's as tired as you are and won't be as energetic.

Sadly, you don't get much sleep that night. It was worth the ache of his back.

[prinzrupprecht]

The Competition (part 2)

Read part 1 if you’re new here! There probably will be 4 parts to this.

Part 1

Pairing: Okita Souji x fem!reader

Synopsis: After a few days of thinking what you were going to do with your time and skills. Either find a new hobby or learn to harness your skills better. You decided to go back to Tennin rishin-ryu and ask to join them even if you were from the competing dojo.

TW: none

WC: 1619

You finally decided after your master abandoned the Tamiya-ryu dojo and is selling the property due to loss of business. The Bakumatsu period was a ruthless time to be living. Commoners even suffer due to the military pressure and ideological-political differences that have been dividing the country. Choshou and Tosa domains believe in overthrowing the Tokugawa shogunate and putting the emperor back in charge of the country.

To you, that doesn’t seem like a bad idea, but they were still resolving their issues through violence that would lead to a civil war. The only solution you could think of was to either join a side or be solo.

As you kept walking around the town watching normal citizens move by their day. You saw the sign again— Tennin rishin-ryu. You didn’t know if you were looking stupid while standing outside of their walls. There was noise coming from the back of some of their men training. There was nobody out in the front but you decided to turn back. You felt like a bothersome of returning. You were a hindrance to that swordsman— Okita Souji the other night when you were attacked.

“Hey, you!” Someone called out from behind. His hair resembled a sea urchin. You observed him still wondering who he was.

“The boss said no girls today!” He walked up to you while standing a few feet away.

“Huh? You don’t even know me or why I’m here…”

“He’s talking about the fangirls that come around here quite frequently,” another man with a pair of glasses stated while standing a few feet behind the sea urchin guy. Fangirls?! They have fangirls?

He must be their infamous mad dog Hijikata with the way he accused you off the bat of being a fangirl. You only heard baseless rumours about how he raided dojos and sold medicine to those he beat up. What a weird guy…

“Uh, well please don’t flatter yourself, I’m here for other reasons. Is your boss here?” You brought a hand up to your face while titling your head to look how irritated he look.

“Well yes, he is here.” Yamanami started but another joined in the conversation from behind.

“Shouldn’t you book an appointment before showing up unannounced?” The man was taller with dark brown hair with a slim build.

“Nagakura-san, we don’t do those here.” Yamanami pushed his glasses up to his face more. Hijikata mumbled something inaudible before turning away.

“Never mind, I wasted my time coming here. I’ll go to the kenjutsu professor, Sasaki Tadasaburou instead.” Just as you turned away, someone grabbed your shoulder roughly.

“That self-claimed ‘best short sword user’ piece of shit won’t teach you nuthin’ anyway who the hell are you?” Hijikata long rant on the man indicated they must’ve met and it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

“The military training centre is a training camp for the strongest warriors. If Tadasaburou was bad at swinging a sword, I’m sure he wouldn’t be a professor there.” You scoffed but that only made Hijikata furious even more before Kondo stepped outside of the dojo.

“Oh you came back, I see you wanted to join here?” Kondo crossed his arms and had a smile on his face. Hijikata wanted to retort but was immediately smacked by Yamanami from objecting Kondo.

“Oh really?” The boy Souji stepped outside of the training hall and laid eyes on you. You couldn’t quite tell how he was so great with the sword but you wanted to know more. He seemed more reserved to himself compared to the others.

“Her join us?! As Saitou’s replacement—?!” Hijikata was mad and you had no idea who this Saitou was. It seems like there would be some objections.

“Hajime-san killed a hatamoto’s son, of course, he had to leave Edo after that incident you moron.” Nagakura sighed. Kondo looked deeply bothered by the mention of Saitou.

“Nobody is a replacement. Now why don’t we calm down and you, should come inside as well.” Kondo looked at you. Were you conflicted still? Of course. These men were brutal and accused you of things but you wanted to learn to defend yourself better and what their goals are.

Once you stepped inside their training hall, it was just empty, smelled like sweat which you tried not to gag but your previous dojo wasn’t much better. You looked to the side and saw all the wooden swords in a corner. They were called bokken but you liked calling them sticks for numerous of reasons.

You were soon interrogated about your previous dojo and life by Yamanami and Inoue. You had learnt that your dojo was the one picking fights and was more devious with their actions to kill and raid other dojos.

“How do I know you’re not like them?” Hijikata stood up and was towering over you, but Souji who was outside on the porch spoke up after hearing the conversation drag on.

“I probably would’ve killed her if she was the same as them,” he didn’t even look at you. His input put you to shame. Why did it affect you that much?

“Heh? You two met?” Hijikata was confused but neither you nor Souji said anything after that. Kondo returned with his homemade meal asking for everyone to sit and eat.

You didn’t know what to do so you sat quietly off to the side while some of them were arguing— especially Hijikata, Nagakura and Abiru about who’s stronger physically. Everyone seemed to be family to one another which is what you didn’t have. Was it possible to fit in with them?

“Here, Kondo-san doesn’t want you to starve.” Souji handed you a small bowl of rice and whatever else was in it. It smelled incredibly horrid but you just smiled. Maybe you should cook for them? It wouldn’t be a bad idea if Kondo was this bad.

You mumbled a quiet thanks while you wondered if he was going to move away since he seemed aloof in general but he still stayed a few feet away from you. You were growing more and more curious about him.

After everyone was done eating most of them went back to sparing against one another. Except for Souji who went to feed the stray cats. You sighed and thought you might as well go outside and practice your sword drawing against something.

Well, not quite. Hijikata called your name but not quite your name. More like an insult— weird girl? You didn’t know how to register that.

“How ‘bout you try to land a hit on me?” He asked and everyone pretty much stopped what they were doing. What?

This even caught Souji’s attention. Normally he doesn’t even pay attention to what the others are doing in Kondo’s training hall.

You went to grab one of the bokken that was on the ground and got into a stance. You were waiting for Hijikata to make a move. He was slanting his eyes while the others were whispering about you mainly. Hijikata tried to strike your side but you quickly stepped back and made a quick draw up close but he blocked your first move. You were quickly pushed back. “Not bad for someone who looks weak at first glance,” he tried to use his leg to kick you but you unexpectedly moved the bokken down to block his leg from reaching your lower abdomen.

“You’re not bad yourself,” you seethed while getting into a stance as he charged forward. You were determined to win against him— even with your quick draw being swift at your close range. Hijikata could barely block or estimate your moves. He barely could keep up with your quick drawing speed. So that’s why Kondo wanted you to join them? You were really good at Iaijutsu. Suddenly a thought came to your mind as you kept putting more force into your strikes to try to break his bokken.

“You’re just an underdog here, don’t get too cocky.” He was using faster strikes against you and that was when you heard a snap. You didn’t stop there even with a snapped bokken. He probably expected you to give up. However, you’d still fight until you couldn’t. That was your way of living.

You curved your back to the side to catch him off guard with a kick to his shins and immediately tapped your half-broken stick against his head. “Huh?! That was unfair! What the fuck was that for?!" He was rubbing the side of his head where you hit him hard.

“So Hijikata is still the worst swordsman here…” someone mumbled but you were to busy staring him down.

“Don’t worry about it, I just want to learn the Tennin rishin-ryu style to get stronger.” You triumphed but this caused some of them to laugh.

“I can help you with some of the techniques.” Souji offered but this caused you to contort your face a bit. Do you want to get yourself beat up? You didn’t expect someone like him to volunteer.

“I’ll go easy on you,” he added.

“Ya, there’s no better swordsman who can really teach you.” Nagakura huffed while crossing his arms over his chest.

“Seriously?! I can help her too! I’m not that bad at Tennin rishin-ryu style…” Hijika frowned but he was ultimately defeated. Somehow Souji wanted to see how good you were which was why he volunteered.

You smiled and felt happy deep down you were going to see if the rumours were actually true if he’s the greatest amongst them. You have no doubts about it.

You just hope you’re not a disappointment to them and you can fulfil your goals alongside them. Maybe they weren’t bad after all.

Note: poor Hijikata. Hope I nailed him here. Next part will be more you and Okita. I wanted some story building first.

[rookieclaire]

listen to 'this night has opened my eyes' by the smiths while reading!

adam's medical analysis from a teenager who has no idea what he's doing but has internet access >_<.

why does no one talk about adam's injuries after the bathroom trap?

obviously his shoulders messed up, yeah, but what else? well in this hypothetical we'll assume that instead of amanda coming to kill adam it's larry coming to save him. it's estimated that this was three(?) days after the bathroom trap. 

realistically he would be incredibly malnourished and would die from dehydration unless he drank the water from the bathtub/toilet (let's say he did in this au) which would cause him diseases such as sepsis, cholera, e. coli, the such. and if any one of you goes “well! he could have eaten zepp!” i’m not even entertaining that. obviously, sure, he could have, but for my own sake let's say he didn’t. sorry guys i’m not that committed

another reason i don’t think he would eat zepp is because he was barely alive when mandy killed him. his fight or flight kicked in and thats why he went so hard. this motherfucker got electrocuted several times after he was shot. he almost immediately gave up on moving unless necessary. 

his ankle would probably be rubbed raw and sprained. i couldn't find a lot of information about ankle shackling and what it does… so… i’m just guessing at this point. not to mention the fact they’re both barefoot? adam probably stepped on the glass he threw several times​​​. you can hear glass crunching under mandy’s boot in saw three. that's how loud it is.

he would probably need physical therapy. not as much for his leg as larry, but definitely some.

back to his shoulder: assuming he didnt die of shock. adam still has his overshirt from the beginning of the movie. he could have taken advice from lawrence and put that onto his shoulder and stopped his bleeding. but since he didn’t, let’s assume the best solution is losing mobility in his right shoulder/arm. 

adam’s immune system would also be incredibly shit after this. he’d probably be feverish, delusional, etc. when we saw mandy killing adam he looked like he was having delusions.

when adam is killed by mandy he starts coughing up blood (given this was after he hit his head) but we can also argue that this is another side effect? of what, you may be wondering. idfk some problems. maybe electrocution! 

again with the malnourishment i feel like it would be hard for him to eat after this because like.. he’d get sick a lot… i guess…

tldr: adam would be malnourished and unable to eat for a while, his ankle would be sprained and rubbed raw, defo has an infection, no immune system, little to no function in right arm, feet would also get very cut up.

---

now, his canon death. let's talk about it, shall we? he got his head bashed in and suffocated. the man threw up his own blood. three things that definitely cause death! i think this is the order it happened since no one can decide. concussion, throws up own blood, chokes on it, since he can’t breath to begin with, he dies from asphyxiation. if we follow matpat’s theory that he faked his death, we can argue back that even if he somehow survived that he would almost 100% die from his concussion or choking on his own sick. 

tldr: adam is dead :(

---

also adam wears combat boots. this isn’t important by any means. i just wanted to point it out. and his boxers look hella cool. They’re just polka dots but i like them lots.

anyways guys like and follow for a part two feel free to tell me to add things in reblogs/comments and i will share my opinion. Remember i am not a doctor i’m just a teenager with webmd and a dad who said it was pretty accurate! if ur shot go to the hospital trust. umm yeah:3

[carpisuns]

Hope you’re well! I noticed you took the LDS out of you, is everything okay?

DJDKDK ok i know what you meant but the way this is phrased made me laugh. no I didnt take the LDS out of me. that is still my church. hahaha

but to answer your question, yes everything is ok! Thank you for asking, that’s really sweet💕 I didnt actually take my religion out of my bio; i just moved it to a different spot. I was doing some blog maintenance and got a new desktop theme and thought I might try to be fancy and have an about page so it’s on there lol. (also i thought maybe fewer people would send me hate mail about it if they had to click one more time to see it djkddk)

[corsairspade]

Halenthir scenario where they get married for tax benefits (in a platonic good friends sort of way) and fall in love long distance via sending each other letters with ideas on how to best leverage their marriage for tax evasion.

[winepresswrath]

hi! i always love your MDZS/CQL takes; can i ask what are the questions you think CQL is asking, as compared to MDZS?

I haven't actually revisited either canon in ages, which is making me nervous. what questions the novel is interested in can be pretty contentious all on its own! @mikkeneko has an excellent answer in the notes here which I reccomend to everyone. My own thoughts are honestly pretty scattered- I keep on deleting things and going hm, that's not quite right.

So, for the obvious-to-me example, people reasonably zero in on the creation of innocent doctors/radish farmers who Wen Ruohan is holding hostage. In CQL it's easy to infer that Wen Qing and Wen Ning are maybe the only cultivators and almost certainly the only combatants among the Wen remnants, and their status is much more ambiguous in the novel, which I personally think is asking, essentially, "and so what? were they wrong to run, when they had a chance? Do they deserve what Jin Guangshan will do to them if they go back? Aren't they just people, actually?" Whereas the question that CQL is asking is more to the effect of "What does Wen Qing owe these people, when she is their only defence? What is she entitled to do to save them, at other people's expense? If she fucks up that moral calculus, what then? Does it matter if she's personally fond of some of the outsiders who are going to get hurt? If one of them saved her brother? Later, this question will flip to what Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, and the parallel to Jiang Cheng's situation in particular is, I think, genuinely pretty fun. You're giving up the Wen as soldiers who've laid down their arms in exchange for Wen Qing also grappling with leadership and the question of how many horrors she can stand to look the other way on to protect her own people. one reason I keep deleting so much is that a lot cql's changes were motivated at least in part by censorship, which I think we mostly share a general and justified distaste for! but I also think that within the bounds of that censorship the creative team put a lot of work into actually doing something interesting with those changes. Or, for another example- nieyao! There's a much greater emphasis on the nmj-jgy relationship, it's unambiguously very close and they are clearly extremely important to one another, and I think that's because the cql team has a lot to say about love, trust, power, and the ways those things interact, and that reflects back on all of the other relationships in play, including Wangxian. Almost every time, when CQL chooses change a relationship they make the characters in question closer- that's true for Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji, for Wen Qing and the Yunmeng contingent, for Zixuan and Mianmian, and Huaisang and Meng Yao. It's even true for Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, who have a close and trusting relationship in first life! CQL puts a much greater emphasis on "all right, so you care, what next?" How do you choose someone and then choose to be good to them? What if there's a massive power disparity between you? What if you seriously disagree about your priorities and morals? How do you trust someone who's betrayed you? When is it a stupid choice to trust at all? How do you have faith that you know someone well enough for that trust to be meaningful?

for legal reasons i would like to specify that it's not that mdzs isn't interested in these problems. i do remember wangxian's literal trust fall. cql is asking these questions all the time about everyone. also for legal purposes i'm not suggesting that cql lwj and jc love each other. but! they establish a three month wartime partnership looking for wwx and then jc immediately drops him on wwx's say-so despite apparently having a positive enough opinion of him to tell wwx he thinks they should make up twice. lan wangji will later tell wwx he thinks he should loop jc in on the second flautist! these are people trying to navigate some kind of relationship/shared interest/community, as opposed to a hateful void. cql wants to say hey, how do you go about this? while I'm here and rambling cql also puts a lot of emphasis on wwx's connection to yunmeng and changes things up so instead of feeling alienated right before he leaves our last glimpse of him there is happily picking lotuses and playing with a kid! in both stories the narrative is asking who do you protect? who do you leave behind? can you ever get it back? but the angles are very different.

[sesamenom]

Reverse Gondolin AU family portrait