#but its bark is bigger than its bite

[velvetsart]

bite the hand acrylic on paper

prints / postcards

[atydblack]

"only shadow"

regulus black x reader

masterlist

heres some regulus black fluff to soothe the soul while i get back into writing <3

this isn't my best tbh but i think its cute

reader is a bit annoying in this but it turns out cute lol

title based on only shadow - my bloody valentine

You sat in the library, trying to focus your attention on the homework you had sprawled out in front of you but your eyes kept drifting to the hard faced brunette sat on the table next to you.

The library was almost empty, so Regulus Black being the root of your distraction wasn't a surprise. His eyebrows were furrowed as his book had his undivided attention.

"Psss" You whisper to Regulus with a giggle.

He tilts his head slightly, his face still laced with a frown. "Yes?" He responds, not even bothering to look at you.

"What are you doing?" You push further, looking for any source of entertainment.

"Reading." He replies bluntly, his eyes still not lifting from his book.

"I'm bored." You stand to your feet and sit yourself next to him with a pout.

"How unfortunate." He rolls his eyes and slams his book shut. "I'm trying to read and that would require you to go away."

"That was mean." You pout again, trying to tease him.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but that's kind of my thing." He muttered.

You smirk and try to think of the best ways to get under his skin.

"Being mean doesn't suit you." You tease, resting your head in your hand. "You're too pretty."

His face softens at your words and you almost see a small blush raise to his cheeks.

"You're really annoying you know that?" He muttered, trying to hide any emotion your words might have caused him.

"I can't help it." You giggle as you realise you're finally getting to him. "It's kind of my thing."

A hint of a smirk reaches Regulus' face as he realises you're teasing him. It was definitely getting hard for him not to completely cave in to you.

"Did I just make Regulus Black smile?" You pretend to be shocked, teasing him further.

"Shut up." He mumbled, he wanted to deny the blush that had found his cheeks, but he couldn't.

It was as if he was playing a game, with her as the enemy... and he was losing.

"Make me." You giggle again, trying your hardest to push his buttons. You were having fun playing this game with him, watching as his tough exterior slowly crumbled.

"I could." He smirked, his eyebrows furrowing as he didn't break eye contact with you. He wasn't used to being the submissive one, dominance being one of the only things that mattered to him.

"Then why don't you?" You smirk. "You don't scare me."

"If you weren't so cute right now, I probably would." His face was still laced with a smirk as he moved closer to you. This time it was your turn for your cheeks to blush as the tables quickly turned, you weren't expecting him to play back.

"You think I'm cute?" You tease and tilt your head, not wanting to show his words affected you.

"I might." His eyes darkened as his eyes scanned your body and returned back to your eyes. "It's just a shame you're so annoying."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, your heart sinking softly at his words but you didn't want him to know you cared.

Regulus had to prevent himself from laughing as he watched you strop. He was starting to like this game, something back how you were looking up at him made him feel powerful.

As much as it annoyed him, he was starting to accept that he wanted you.

"What's the matter?" He grinned. "Your bark bigger than your bite?"

"No," You scoff and regain composure, immediately trying to shake the feeling that came over you. "I'm just shocked I've actually managed to get you to talk to me for this long."

"You're actually quite amusing." His eyes flickered down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you try to ignore the growing heat in your stomach.

"I know." You stare back, trying to think of any way to regain control of the situation. You reached up to his tie and began fiddling with it in between your fingers, causing his body to move closer to yours.

"Cocky as well as annoying?" He muttered, ignoring the jolt of electricity that ran down his body at your touch.

"I'm learning from the best." You shrug, avoiding his dark eyes that were sewn on to your every move.

"What else are you learning from me?" His voice was low as he spoke. Your mind raced with ideas of where to take this situation, and there was only one answer.

"How much you want me." Your eyes fluttered up to his once again, an innocent look on your face that contradicted your seductive smirk.

Regulus' breathing hitched in his throat giving you more confidence. Your hands that held on to his tie snaked up to wrap around his neck. His closed his eyes for just a moment as blood coursed through his body in a way he'd never felt before.

"Maybe you're right." He whispered, his throat felt as if every breath he took was being squeezed by the girl in front of him. He was losing control of himself.

Regulus' words ignited a fire in you that you'd never experienced before. Your confidence got the best of you as you as you spoke again.

"Then I'm all yours." You breathed out, not breaking eye contact. A rush of desire flooded through the both of you, making you both weak.

He was losing control of himself and so were you... the both of you finally giving in to seduction.

"Mine?" He uttered, the words barely finding their way out his parched throat.

You nod your head submissively, the way you were looking up at him made him feel powerful.

"Good girl," He smirked before leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on your lips.

You had both kissed plenty of others before, but this was different. The two of you melted into the kiss and a soft moan left your lips.

Regulus was just as lost in the moment as you and neither of you wanted to pull away.

His tongue found yours just as your fingertips found the hair on the nape of his neck and the kiss grew more passionate.

He eventually broke the kiss slowly, his breath heavy. Your heart was racing and your red cheeks matched his.

It felt like the whole world had stopped and he didn't even care. You stared into each others eyes, your thoughts of anything but each other completely escaping your mind.

"I still find you annoying." He smirked

[hotchs-big-hands]

dbf!hotch gifts reader a nannycam for their room. Fun ensues. Send tweet.

(basically reader being a camgirl but for hotchy’s eyes only) 😩

Okay okay I have to get this out FIRST like you don't understand this makes me fucking BARK ROME your mind is literally stunning babe OKAY LETS GO

Dbf!Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

NSFW minors dni please!

Warning(s): consensual voyeurism, daddy kink, masturbation, just smut LMAO it's so filthy!! Also changes to Aaron's perspective after first break.

Should probably note idk exactly how nannycams work I just did some reading up and I'm sort of basing off that. Anyway, ENJOY!

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

There it sat on the pristine dining table of your father's friend. A small, black cube no bigger than a dice awaited your response to its presence. Your eyes flicked to the man who had just placed it in front of you with a smirk, and you bit your lip.

"This is..."

Aaron raised a brow, the smirk growing.

"A little camera for you to place in your bedroom. Do you like it, sweetheart?" He said gently. A shiver ran down your spine as your eyes returned to the tiny nannycam.

"Holy shit..." You felt heat rising in your face and burning in your abdomen. "I do, yes. Thank you, Aaron."

Aaron cupped the back of your head with his hand and leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead.

"This, pretty thing, is so I can check in on you when I'm away with work. You understand, right?"

He was close to your face, his eyes focusing on your bitten lip. You moved to straddle his hips and his hands were immediately on your thighs, squeezing them possessively. A little hum reverberated from you as you nodded at him and you placed your hands on his firm chest to help balance yourself as you shifted around on his lap.

"Mmh... come by mine later so you can help me set it up?" You asked sweetly, batting your eyelids innocently at him. He chuckled and the hands slid round to your ass and firmly gripped onto the flesh there.

"Of course, sweetheart. Gotta make sure it's working, after all."

Yes, much later in the day did you both finally make it to your home and set up the little camera on a shelf attached to the wall, cushioned between some ornaments. And the rest of the evening was spent "testing" the angle of the camera out with a feed linked to Aaron's phone. When you eventually collapsed against the pillows together, entangled and breathing heavily, your mind wandered to the possibilities you had to have a bit of fun whilst your lover was away. A tired, but excited smile pulled at your face as you snuggled into his bare chest and you drifted off to sleep.

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Three days had passed by after Aaron gifted you the little camera, and in that time he had, of course, been pulled away on a case. He hadn't yet had a spare moment to check in with you to ask if you were okay with him watching (he had made it clear that he wouldn't look unless you specifically said it was okay to do so) and admittedly, he was a little frustrated as a result. But work called, he had to focus on the current case instead. However, all was about to change with a simple text from you.

---

Sweetheart❤: How's everything going? xx

---

Aaron raised a brow as he stared at the text. You didn't normally contact him whilst he was working. He stepped away from the rest of his team for a moment to respond.

---

Me: As well as the average case goes. Are you alright? X

Sweetheart❤️: I'm heading to bed now, but I'm not very sleepy...

---

He felt himself tense a little, swallowing as he felt himself twitch in his slacks. He eyed his surroundings before he began to type.

---

Me: Sweet thing, you've got to try and get some rest, yeah? X

---

Moments later a photo came through from you, Aaron's breath hitched at the compromising position you were in, biting your lip and looking at the camera seductively.

---

Sweetheart❤️: Guess you'd better check your footage later then 😇

---

He quickly moved to press his back against a wall and typed furiously, slacks tightening.

---

Me: You really think you can just tease daddy like this and not be punished when I return?

Sweetheart❤️: Gn, daddy 🥰 xx

---

Aaron groaned quietly and pocketed his phone, glancing down at his crotch and willing the slight bulge to disappear. You were in so much trouble when he finally returned home, but he had to admit he was eager to return to his hotel room that night to see what you'd been up to. With a sharp exhale out of his nose he slowly returned to the room to continue working on the case.

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Driving at the speed limit couldn't have been harder for Aaron than right now, desperate to make it back to the hotel and lock himself in his room. He knew the others could tell he was extremely tense and chalking it up to the difficult case, which admittedly, he was stressed out about, but he hadn't been able to keep you or the implications of your earlier messages out of his mind for the rest of the day.

So when he finally pulled into the hotel parking lot with Spencer and Derek in the car with him, he couldn't slam his door fast enough nor rush off into the hotel. He even took the stairs, two steps at a time, so he could get there quicker than waiting for an elevator. Finally. With his door locked his jacket and tie were quickly removed and his shoes toed off at the door, he crossed the room to the bed and he settled down on the edge of it and pulled his phone out.

He was eager, almost embarrassingly so but he didn't care. His thumb hovered over the app that was linked to the nannycam; his slacks were uncomfortably tight already. With a quiet exhale, he unbuckled his belt to give himself a brief sense of relief, then he clicked the app icon.

He remembered the estimated time you'd messaged him, scrolling through the footage from within the 12 hours of the day in the timezone you were in. Most of it was blank, obviously you'd been out for the day, but he slowed down the progress when your figure appeared, entering and leaving the room as you went about your evening. He smiled slightly in complete adoration of you, there was something so serene about watching you going about your time, a part of him secretly wishing he could witness all of it someday.

His thoughts were brought to a halt when you entered your bedroom dressed in a fluffy towel, having just returned from a shower. He shifted on the bed, settling back further as his eyes stared at the screen. At first, your back was to the camera when you unwound the towel from your body. Aaron narrowed his eyes slightly, wishing you would turn around. Then you did. Casually, you began drying your body off, dragging the fabric down your arms and across your neck. You paused, a little smile spread across your face and you moved the towel slower down your body.

His eyes followed the movement of your hand on the fabric, drifting down your chest and lingering. A deliberate, light brush against your nipples, then slowly drifting lower down your body. Tauntingly, you covered your crotch and Aaron groaned, holding his phone in his right hand whilst his left slid down to squeeze the growing bulge in his dress pants. You knew how he felt about you teasing him given you'd been punished for it already recently, brought to a point of begging him through tears to let you cum, to feel his cock inside you. Just the memory of it only made him strain against the fabric of his trousers more, so he unbuttoned them and slowly pulled the zipper down, a quiet grunt escaping him at the release in tension. His hand slipped inside, palming his cock over his boxers.

In the footage, you'd turned from the camera again and bent over to dry your legs, giving him a full view of your ass to him.

"Nngh, fuck." Aaron hissed, squeezing himself tighter. You walked out of frame, seemingly to hang the towel up to dry, but when you returned to the frame you were still in all your naked glory and there was no indication of that changing anytime soon. His eyes widened when you pulled open your bedside drawer and from it you took out one of his button down shirts, but his brow raised when you also picked up a small bottle, one that he knew very well.

"Oh, you naughty thing..." He whispered as you spritzed his cologne he thought he had misplaced a few weeks ago over the shirt he must have left behind at some point. You placed the bottle back into the drawer and held the shirt to your nose, climbing onto the bed to kneel, eyes closed as you inhaled deeply. Aaron groaned again quietly. He didn't know you did this, he would have to ask you if you did it all the time. It made him feel good to be so desired as this, he never expected anyone to want him as much as you clearly did. His cock was painfully hard now, and he pulled it from the top of his underwear with a hiss. The rosy red tip was already glistening with precum, he smeared it with his thumb and dragged it down the impressive shaft with a deep exhale.

Holding onto the shirt, you slowly pulled it down your body, rolling your hips as you brushed across your nipples again. And then, to Aaron's utter surprise, you moved the shirt down to your crotch and began to grind into it. He shuddered, cock twitching in his hand at the scene. You moved to the end of the bed, shirt still rubbing against your crotch, and knelt down, head against the bed with your ass angled towards the camera's general direction. Aaron swore under his breath as he began to slide his hand up and down his cock, squeezing his tip and using the precum that continued to leak out to lube himself. You were laying on top of the shirt, hand between your spread thighs as you touched yourself. Oh, how he wished he could hear your sounds right now.

He could imagine himself touching you in this position, teasing you as he rubbed his cock against your entrance. He wanted you to always have your face shoved against one of his shirts from now on, picturing you biting into it with every caress of his fingers or cock.

Your hips swayed and shuddered forward, your hand moving faster as you masturbated. Aaron moved his hand faster on his cock, thrusting up into his hand eagerly in time with your movements. He could tell you were close in the video, body shaking and back arching, it brought him closer to cumming as well. His chest heaved as he moaned, hips bucking when he watched you finally cum hard, staining his shirt no doubt, and pushing yourself until you collapsed, boneless. Not a moment sooner, Aaron groaned deeply as his cock shot rope, after rope of cum onto his hand and clothed chest. Slightly shaky, he quickly snapped a photo from his torso downward, hand still gripping his sensitive cock, and sent it to you.

---

Me: Sweetheart, look what you've done to me. I'll be having a word with you about taking my cologne...

---

Once the text was sent, Aaron let the phone drop onto the mattress beside him and groaned. His cock twitched in his hand, still aroused. He grimaced, knowing he needed to take a shower and shove his soiled clothes in the bottom of his bag. And so sluggishly, he forced himself to stand and make his way to the shower room.

When the new morning would come round, you'd wake up to more than just a picture.

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AWOOGA OKAY thank you so so so much for reading !! I hope this was kinda what you were thinking of babes, but I could defo expand on this in future tho should the demand be there 👀

Taglist: @cr1minalskies @modern-mermaid @aaronhotchnersgirlfriend @aaronhotchswife @crimeshowjunkie @igotanidea @gogococopuffs @prentissesredtanktop @howabouticallyou @lalalove-56 @constantwritingblock @boredelle @powerlvr25 @idkbubs @mrs-ssa-hotch @emptybagofchips77 @yourmomsmilfmistress @jesuisbenny @nplumb22 @supercriminalbean @elijahmikaelsonbitch @wowzabowza69 @frostingway @simpingfortoomanypeople @munsonsposts @spenciesprincess @creepysweetie @bruhhvv @regulus-black-223048 @brasspistol @0nex-is-dead0 @livingdeadmak @myescapefromthislife @sebastiansstanswhore @bumblebea-xo @hangmandruigandmav @sareim123122 @magical-spit

[pettyprocrastination]

Taste Test

Pairing: Line Cook!Simon Riley x Line Cook!Fem!Reader

Summary: Simon is warned by his manager about the dangers of a workplace romance. You are asked for your opinion on seasoning.

Warnings: profanity and smoking.

Wordcount: 1.3k

Note: take this silly little thing as an apology for my utter lack of activity lately I'm so sorry yall! Made simon a linecook as a little joke au but now its kinda stuck in my head and not leaving lmao. Big thank you to @madhyanas @thesadvampire and @yeehaw-djarin for being my beta readers and editors for this story! I smooch you all <3

__________________

Simon had just finished plating his sixth steak of the night when the manager, Elise, a woman with twitching hands and cold eyes, pokes her head into the kitchen and barks his name. 

“My office.” 

The others snicker and bump shoulders like schoolboys, calling out a jested “fuck did you do this time, Riley?” that he doesn’t bother answering with words so much as a choice hand gesture thrown into the air before he ducks under the door frame and disappears down the hall. 

“You want to tell me what I’m getting chewed out for?” Simon rasps as he tucks his hands into the front pocket of his apron, scarred fingers curling around the carton of cigarettes tucked within it. 

Elise’s office is hardly bigger than the pantry, just large enough for a rickety desk piled with bills and a chair with a threadbare cushion that was all but pressed flat. 

“I’m not reprimanding you, Simon.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Think of what I’m about to say as-” Elise tilts her head, flashing him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “A preventive measure.” 

Simon fishes out a lighter from his back pocket as she continues. She doesn’t have the energy to tell him to stop.

“What do you think of the new hire?” 

Truthfully, nothing.

You don’t talk much outside of work. While the other cooks are content to crack jokes and tell stories of their weekend to one another as they prepare meals, you have no such social connection to anybody within the kitchen. The only moments Simon had even heard your voice was the rushed announcement of your position behind somebody or when coming around the corner. 

“She’s fine.” He takes a slow drag of his cigarette and exhales, smoke curling from his lips as he speaks. “Does her job and doesn’t bitch like the others.”

“She’s more than fine.” Elise motions to a stapled pack of paper on her desk. 

 “Kid went to culinary school, trained under some big fucking names and even worked at some five-star joints before coming here. All her previous employers say she’s a hard worker who picks up shifts and doesn’t cause trouble.” 

She picks up the paper and points it towards the six foot four cook hunched in her doorway.

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you now that she is off-fucking-limits to you.” 

Simon bites down on his cigarette. “S’cuse me?” 

“Don’t play coy, Riley. You’re far too fucking grown to pretend you don’t know what you do.” 

He does know. Simon is more than aware of the past flings he’s had with multiple servers, none of which have ended on a positive note and all of which resulted in a souring work environment until they up and quit - leaving front of house understaffed until the next poor bastard walked through the door asking about the Help Wanted sign hung outside. 

But the blame can’t be on him entirely, that is. Each doe-eyed waitress entered a fling with the cook knowing good and well what his intentions were, because he had no issue with saying it right to their face. 

‘I’m not looking for a relationship.’ 

Simon is a blunt man. He tells people what he wants because in a world full of dragging feet and double entendres, he values efficiency and honesty above all else. 

“Listen, I’ve never stopped you from dipping your hand in the cookie jar before, but this?” She waves your resume in front of him again. “This right here? Off-limits. If you run this poor girl out and leave us understaffed for the Sunday rush I will fucking gut you myself, Simon.” 

It’s only been a week and a half since you’ve started working with them. Part of him wants to laugh at Elise’s exasperated accusation. That somehow, in the midst of chaotic shifts where several customers complain and a few bar patrons get rowdy enough for him to have to drag them out by the collar, he’d be able to find the fucking time to learn your goddamn name, let alone sweettalk his way between your legs. 

But then he remembers the muffled laugh you hid in your sleeve yesterday when listening to the dishwasher crack jokes during the lunch rush and how you tap the side of your apron in a constant rhythm when looking for something within the kitchen. Simon interrupts his own thoughts and frowns, mildly surprised about just how much he noticed of you from the corner of his eye during the daily lunch rush. Had Elise said nothing, he wouldn’t have cast a second glance in your direction. But now?

“Simon! Are you listening?” 

She may have just cursed herself. 

“Yeah-” He stamps his cigarette out on the ceramic tray on her desk, offering her a dry clip of his voice before turning on his heel. “No fucking the new cook until we find coverage, got it.” 

Simon narrowly avoids a stapler being thrown in his direction before ducking out of her office and back into the kitchen where his coworker grins at him from the sink. 

“So? She fire your dumbass yet?” 

Across the kitchen, you cut onions with a flicking wrist that never ceased movement, brows furrowed and mumbling to yourself. 

Simon hums. 

You’re quite pretty. 

“Not yet.” He rumbles. “She likes my smile too much.” 

You spare Simon a glance as he settles back into his work station next to you before you resume cutting. He notices there’s a scar on your bottom lip, a little sliver of raised skin that goes from the bottom of your chin to the swell of your lower lip. 

“Hey.” 

His voice shakes you from your focus, hands freezing as you turn to look at him, lightly craning your neck to meet his eyes. 

Simon holds out a spoon to you, the other scarred hand hovering beneath to keep it from spilling. 

“Mind giving your opinion? Can’t tell if it needs more garlic.”

There’s a moment where your brows cinch together and you look at him with caution, as if to sniff out any sort of deceit within his offer before you mumble, “Yeah, yeah, okay,” and lean forward. 

There’s no need for him to feed you. You’re a fully grown woman who could take the spoon from his hand with no issue, but Simon finds himself guiding it to your mouth and letting his other hand tuck under your chin in an affectionate gesture far too intimate for the back kitchen of a local restaurant. 

Simon is sure that Elise has cursed him too. He hadn’t given you a second glance or a spare thought since your first day. But now, he watches your eyes flutter shut as you hum at his cooking. 

“Good?” he asks. 

Your tongue darts out to catch a stray droplet of sauce on your lower lip. “Good.” Your lips purse like you have something more to say and you raise your hand, pinching your pointer finger to your thumb in a universal gesture. 

“Could use just a bit more garlic though.” 

There’s a brief moment after you speak where panic fills your eyes as Simon says nothing. Frantic thoughts fill your brain, wondering if that was some sort of test for the new hire that you had failed due to your own personal tastes until the man that towers over you nods. 

“More garlic.” He echoes. With a short nod of his head, he turns back to his station without another word. 

Simon doesn’t speak to you again for the rest of your shift yet at times during the night, where an unexpected pause takes over the kitchen for a brief but appreciated moment of silence, you feel his gaze on the back of your neck. 

When the time of the night comes to hang up your apron and slip through the backdoor, he joins you without a word. A large looming shadow walking in step with your own, unexpected but not unwelcome. He bids you a rasped “ ‘Night” before turning to his car as you unlock your own, offering him a mimic of his words before you drive home. 

You notice in the reflection of your rear view mirror that he doesn’t leave the parking lot right away. But rather chose to wait until you do to finally depart. 

[autisticlancemcclain]

Everything is burning.

For too long he doesn’t move. His limbs are leaden, pulled heavily to the ground, and his neck is too weak to keep up his head. Smoke curls in the air and settles sleepily into his lungs. Shredded metal and broken glass glint and shine under the full moonlight, and through his half-lidded eyes it looks like stars. Every inhale is laborious, but the churned earth feels shaped to the contours of his body, like a mattress designed specifically for him. He could close his eyes, just for a moment, and rest, recover from the strain of the crash before moving forward. It would be easier. Just a short rest, a moment to sleep, to heal. 

Sounds of a forest surround him. A steady chirping that must be crickets, a hooting that can only be an owl. If he strains his ears farther, there’s the chittering of something scurrying up and down trees, and the heavier thumps of something bigger stomping about. Behind that, there are voices. 

Shouting. And the bark of what has to be dogs, and the ever so faint revving of vehicles, slamming doors.

Get up, urges a voice in the back of his head. Get up now.

He tries to comply. He cracks open his eyes – when did he close them? – and hisses at the onslaught of light, of beams of searching torches and painful flashes of red and blue. All of a sudden he’s made aware of the flames inching closer to his legs, and the wing of his ship, torn off the body, pressing him into the ground.

“Not good,” he croaks, trying to wiggle his toes. Thankfully, he can, although movement reminds his body of itself, and the aches and pains start to come alive – his entire head pounds, and nausea coils around his stomach, and something burns and pulses in the meat of his calf. 

But still he can move.

Forcing his arms to function, he grounds his hands under him, pushing upright. His body feels heavier than it has ever felt before; the task feels herculean. The unrest in his stomach becomes violent, swirling, and he has to stop before he’s even sitting upright, eyes stinging, teeth clenched, breathing deliberately and sharply through his nose until the nausea settles again. The world spins, when he’s finally sat upright, and he has to give himself a moment for that to pass, too, but the shouting voices and stomping feet get louder, and he knows he doesn’t have much time.

“Okay,” he whispers to himself, praying that Perseus and Ursa and Leo guide him. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

He curls his gloved fingers under the ruined edge of the wing, careful of the sharp shards of torn metal, and heaves, pushing and biting back a loud cry as the effort of freeing his legs tears something in his shoulders, hurts something in his back. The wing is heavy and he’s lucky he’s merely trapped under it rather than pinned; if the ground wasn’t supporting so much of its weight then the onus would be on his legs, and he’s sure he would lose them. His body is sorer than it has ever been in his life, and everything hurts, but he is grateful for that at least. 

With the freeing of his legs comes the hard part. He doesn’t trust them to hold them, at least not at first, and he’s scared of what might happen if his brain tells them to move on their own. So he wraps his hands around his ankle and pulls, so his foot slides close to his rear and bends his knee, and does the same with the other, so he is sitting with his knees nearly pressed to his chest and his feet flat and steady on the floor. 

“Okay,” he whispers again to himself, shaky this time. He bites off any other words, snapping his mouth shut, focusing on breathing. Okay. He braces his palms on the cracked and sparking remains of the control board the pushes with all his strength, steadying himself on wobbling legs and knocking knees. He holds himself steady, breath held in his lungs, for the count of fifteen ticks, carefully testing with his hands still steadying himself, the ability of his legs to hold him up. 

Carefully, nervously, he lifts up his hands. He sways, for a moment, but manages to stay upright. On the high of that success he straightens to the best of his ability and surveys the smoking remains of his crashed ship. It’s not very salvageable. Scrap metal, maybe, but everything else…

He swallows. It has been two deca-phoebs since he left home. Six pheobs since he last passed a satellite up to date enough to talk to his family face-to-face. He hasn’t seen home in so long that sometimes he struggles to remember what it felt like to lie in his bed, not just the nest he built in the cab of his ship. The ship, with its purple glowing lights and well-worn buttons and weird old sounds and familiar walls is the only piece of home he has left. Maybe forever, now.

He shakes himself. The voices are closer, now, the barking of dogs closer still. He doesn’t have time to dwell. He forces himself to shift around some of the ruins, digging through cracked polymer and cracked glass to find anything salvageable and portable; anything he can find in under thirty ticks. He manages – thankfully – to find his pack, half-burned as it is, that he knows holds some clothes and supplies. He finds his comm, too, although it’s cracked clean in half. He brings it anyway. 

His head swivels to the treeline as he hears a barked order that sounds like it’s barely out of eyesight. He has to go. He doesn’t have any more time. 

Choking back tears from two different kind of pain, he stumbles his way out of the wreckage and sprints for the trees, as far away from the voices as he can manage. He only hopes that he’s not trailing blood – and that the humans aren’t faster than he is.

———

Keith grew up on stories of Earth.

His father told him hundreds. It’s like a hundred planets in one, he liked to say, and when Keith was young and still fit in the crook of his father’s arm he’d look at him with wide eyes and try to imagine it. Dozens of nations all trying to coexist in one space. All the culture and language you could ever dream of, naui jag-eun tamheomga, everywhere, at once.

When Keith was a kid he couldn’t get enough of it. When he was a teen he couldn’t, either; he’s never not been fascinated with the heritage he’s never shared with anyone he’s ever known. His bedtime stories were of scientific discoveries his father witnessed in real time, of athletic feats of which Keith could barely conceptualise. And when he ran out of real stories, he told Keith stories of thousands of years of myths, of gods and angels and monsters. And of course when Keith had the first inkling of an opportunity he packed a ship, kissed his mother goodbye, and flew off on a several hundred million lightyear journey, his field journal blank and begging to be filled and his father’s voice echoing in his head.

His father prepared him for everything. Keith knew every star on the journey, recognised the curve of every planet in the solar system. Upon sight of the Great Blue Dot he could barely contain his excitement, thrusters at full force.

His father told him everything. As far as Keith knew and has always known, his father knew everything.

His father didn’t tell him that the second his ship showed up on government scanners, he’d be shot out of the sky.

Keith found that one out the hard way.

———

There’s a light up ahead.

It’s yellowed, and old. The bulb has not been changed in a long time, and dead moths pile inside the class lamp cover. Cobwebs wrap delicately around the iron frame. The light seems out of place with the cottage it guards; not in appearance, but in liveliness: the cottage is dark and well-maintained. The ancient beckoning of the lamp post seems at odd with the sleepy youth of the red-bricked little house.

Keith is starting to get a little delirious, maybe. 

Stumbling, he approaches the cottage. He has long since lost the voices and hunters, if that’s what they were, distracted no doubt by the remains of his ship. He hasn’t heard them in hours. 

But the moon crests higher and higher overheard. And the torn flesh of his leg – cut deeply by a shard of shrapnel – bleeds sluggishly with no sign of stopping. And he is tired, and every step is harder, and the adrenaline only continues to fade, and the point in which he will no longer be able to go on is rapidly approaching.

And, most damning. Humans are pursuit predators. As far as he goes – if he is not sheltered, they will find him. Now or days from now, he cannot stay hidden. 

He’d like to choose the terms in which he is discovered. 

He forces himself to the cottage, injured leg dragging behind him, vision getting blurrier with every step, breaths getting shallower and shallower. The steps are real wood, cured and stained and worn, and Keith mourns for a moment that he is about to ruin them with the spill of his own blood and the tracked mud and grease on his clothes. His father wore a necklace, every day of his life, a leather cord with a rubbed-smooth charm of carved wood. In all the many planets Keith has visited, he has never seen real wood. Dried plant matter, in abundance, and every kind of polished stone, polymers created from nothing and glass melted from every kind of sand, but wood is, at least as far as anyone knows, completely unique to Earth. Keith has always been fascinated by it.

His strength leaves him at the door. Like his strings were cut, he falls to his knees with a heavy thud, and must claw his way close enough to knock. The tap of his fist against the worn green door is hardly loud enough to be audible, but it is all he has strength to do. He slumps against the doorframe and mentally apologises to whatever old lady lives in this house, because she is going to have the fright of her life seeing his corpse on her doorstep when she wakes up in the morning. That, or a trail of blood from where the people who shot him down are going to drag him away. 

Either way, not good.

He’s sad, as he lay there dying. That is of course not a revolutionary feeling to have, but it’s of no consequence. He wishes he saw more of Earth. He wishes he got to stop at all the places his father talked about so fondly. He wishes he was able to tell his mother goodbye. He wishes, perhaps most urgently, that dying hurt less. He had been too shocked to hurt, when he first crashed, but it’s been hours now and his body won’t let him forget it. Everything hurts, and his throat is dry. He hates it when his throat is dry. The wooden doorframe digs into his back, at least, and it’s not a pleasant sensation but he reaches out and strokes the grain of the wooden door anyway, feeling the chipped away pent, squeezing his eyes shut and pretending he’s running his thumb around his father’s pendant. 

The texture of the wood suddenly disappears, and his back hits the ground. His eyes flutter open, whole seconds after he is laid flat on the ground, and hovering above him is the blurry silhouette of a man glowing gold; curls of hair shining flinted silver in the bright light of the moon, stars dotting the apples of his cheeks and bridge of his nose, mouth curved like the arm of the Milky Way, and eyes the deepest, darkest, widest brown he has ever seen, like two glowing black holes boring into his soul.

“Oh,” are Keith’s dying words, faint and echoing and awed. “Dad was wrong. Angels are real.”

———

The tips of cool, uncalloused fingers brushing under his hairline rouse him from slumber, frowning. Mom must be wearing – gloves? But that doesn’t make sense. He’s never seen her wear gloves before, even when he’s been sick. Her claws tear right through the fingers. It doesn’t make sense.

“Mom?” he murmurs, voice scratchy, trying and failing to force open his heavy, heavy eyelids. 

“Go back to sleep,” she whispers, not sounding like herself at all. She must be sick, too. “You’re still all fucked up. You need it.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrow. He wanted to talk to her. There was something he wanted to say to her. There’s something faint and muted pulling at the back of his mind; something about his mother, about talking, about pain and sleep and sorrow. He needs to wake up.

But he’s so tired. And his eyelids are so heavy. And sleep pulls, at every corner of his mind.

“Okay,” he sighs, and sinks back into it.

———

“Whatever the hell you are, you’ve made a mess of yourself. Dumbass.”

———

There are voices again. Arguing. Fear pricks at Keith’s veins, and it’s enough to propel him out of whatever blackness he’s been resting in, enough to force his eyes open. He squeezes them shut again on reflex, hissing at the onslaught of sunlight pouring in from the wide, open window, counting to three before opening them again under the shield of his hand. 

He doesn’t recognise the room he’s in.

It’s strangely shaped. Almost cave-shaped, really, with rounded edges instead of sharp corners. Except the window is so big it bleeds light into every single crevice of the room, leaving no room for any cave-like impressions. The walls are painted with soft, muted murals, of hanging vines and falling leaves and ants marching a line on a tree. Dozens of shelves are filled with more rocks than Keith has ever seen in one place, even in his godfather’s labs and archives. The bed itself is huge, taking up half the room, enough so that Keith could sprawl if he pleased and not touch any edge. The comforter is huge and thick and almost stiflingly warm. The door is contrasting to the energy of the rest of the room, covered in vibrant stickers and sprawled in messages and almost graffiti-like lettering. It’s cracked open slightly, and through it Keith can hear two voices arguing: one stiff and demanding, the other angry and shrill.

“I have no idea what the hell you’re on about,” hisses the angry voice, defensive. “No one has shown up at my door. I’ve seen nothing strange. Everything is as normal as it always is. The only odd thing is the slew of trespassing assholes dressed in uniform who won’t leave me the fuck alone –”

Keith’s head lolls backwards, strength seeping out of his body. The sunlight is warm and smells good. The fear that had dragged him awake has ebbed, somewhat, because the voice – the angry voice – is protective. There is someone guarding Keith’s six. 

He lets sleep swallow him again.

———

He dreams, finally, of flying on wings of hollow bones and stretched skin, and being shot out of the sky. And of a bright yellow canary, snatching him from his freefall and floating him gently to the earth.

———

“If you woke up soon I’d appreciate it, you know. I’m running out of excuses to buy saline bags. Shit is getting suspicious and if the local town thinks I’m a vampire trying to keep my personal bloodbag alive, I’m fucked.”

———

Keith awakes, finally and fully, in the middle of the night. A half moon shines bright into a bedroom that feels unnervingly familiar, like the watercolour memories from a dream. The cloudiness that’s been ever present in his head has finally faded, and the only thing rolling in his stomach is hunger. There’s still a heavy ache in his leg, but it’s manageable. It’s dark enough that his eyes don’t sting.

His mouth tastes like something died, then was revived, then shat on his tongue. It’s unpleasant. 

Nervously, fully expecting a half-movement to crumble his body to dust, he peels back the disgustingly fluffy comforter, slowly pivoting his half-upright body until his feet are planted on the rug-covered floor. He rests there a moment, frankly a little breathless, but braces on palm on the nightstand and one on the bedspread and readies himself. Teeth grit in determination, he pushes, leaning on shaky arms until he trusts his legs to hold up his body.

They do. His one leg aches in a pain he’s only felt in Marmora training, but it holds him, and when he tests a tiny step forward, it holds him then, too. 

Slowly, conscious of his space and his body, Keith inches forward. 

It takes him longer than he would like to cross the minimal space between the bed and the door, but he does it, and he ignores the sardonic voice in his head that wants to do anything but celebrate. He rests again at the door frame, hand clutched at the top of it, stretched out in a way that feels unbelievably good (well, as stretched out as he can be with his head brushing the doorframe). His lips quirk up when he realises it’s made of wood, half-remembering his dying internal rambles. He wonders if building with wood is a common Earthen practice, or if whomever owns this cottage is just unbelievably wealthy. Maybe all Terrans are. 

Once his breath has evened again and he thinks he’s good to go, Keith peeks down the hallway, nerves dancing down his spine. The two rooms branching off are dark and soundless, but there’s a small light on at the end of the hall where it opens up, and the soft sound of clinking glass. Someone is awake.

He closes his eyes, pulling back from the doorframe and closing his shaking hands into fists. “Just do it,” he whispers to himself. It’s not like they don’t know he’s here – someone has been keeping him alive, after all. He didn’t just recover – well, half-recover – from a massive crash by himself. That kind of thing kills a person, actually. “Stop stalling.”

Jaw set and shoulders square, Keith stalks forward. It’s hard to stalk with a heavy limp, but he thinks he manages. His cousin has always told him that power comes from audacity, and she has plenty, so. He should be fine so long as he emulates her, which he would rather crash from space again than admit but he does often.

He turns the corner at the end of the hallway and it opens up into an open kitchen and living space. There are no overhead lights but lamps and candles litter the space, making everything glow quietly. A light floral scent fills the air, but Keith isn’t sure if that’s from the candles or the bouquet of purple flowers that might be lavenders placed carefully on the centre of a – wooden – table. More shelves line the walls, filled with more than just rocks this time, and the walls are painted with bright swatches of colours; muted in the low light but visibly more sunshiney and abstract than the bedroom. The fridge is covered in photos so thickly that the door isn’t even visible. The counters are a mess of opened ingredients, some of which Keith recognises, and a slew of utensils and bowls in various states of disarray.

A man stands at the centre of it all, back turned to Keith. 

Keith clears his throat.

The man whirls around, startled, and when he sees Keith he screams at the top of his lungs, mixing bowl clattering to the ground and splattering batter all over the floor and half the cupboards. Keith steps back, heart pounding in his ears, hands held defensively in front of him, mind screaming with various iterations of oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. He’d thought he was safe, that his presence was known, that –

“Oh my shitballs,” the man wheezes, hunching over slightly. “Oh Joseph and Mary and Sweet Baby Jesus. Fuck. My heart just clawed its way up my esophagus and threw itself out of my mouth, actually. Holy shit.”

“What,” Keith croaks, still frozen in fear.

For a moment there’s silence. Then the man still stands crookedly, but straightens enough to look Keith in the eyes. And Keith – 

Keith stops breathing, because he knows those eyes. 

The deepest, darkest, widest brown he has ever seen, like two glowing black holes boring into his soul. 

“I am. So sorry,” he says, “for yelling. That is my bad. That is On Me. Probably freaked you out good.” He sighs, bending back down and scooping up the mixing bowl. He stares for a long moment at the mess of batter, weighing, then sighs again and more deeply and reaches for a rag. “I don’t mean to be xenophobic, promise. I swear I knew you were there. I just. Haven’t slept. In so many days. Would’ve screamed if anyone popped out, promise.”

“What,” Keith repeats, a little desperate. 

The man doesn’t seem to pick up on his tone, though, continuing to work on the rapidly drying mess and rambling. 

“– and it’s not your fault, anyway. Been a rough couple of weeks. You really freaked the hell outta the military, huh? I’m glad you’re up now because there was only so much I could do to keep them away. I’m sure they’ll come knocking again eventually, but we’ll figure it out then. Or you’ll go home? I’m honestly not sure. Whatever works. You can stay. I dunno. My brain’s on three percent at this exact moment.”

“You’re…not sleeping?” Intentionally, Keith avoids the whole military thing the man mentioned, because. Well. That freaks him out, if he’s being entirely honest, and he really doesn’t want to hear it. Right now he’s pretending that’s a problem for someone else. He has enough shit to deal with. 

The man sighs. He looks dejectedly at the mess. Slowly, so as not to startle him again, Keith walks over to the sink, careful to avoid smears of whatever the man was making, and wets a rag to help him. 

He figures it’s the least he can do. 

“Yeah, well. I’ve never slept great outside of my bed. It’s cool, though. Sometimes I blink for a few seconds longer than usual and it’s like a micro-nap.”

Keith looks at him in concern. He’s staring off into space, rubbing at a spot that’s been clean for at least two doboshes now. Keith’s not even sure if he’s noticed him beside him. “That seems bad.”

“Eh. Now that you can move around, I can sleep if you’re ever up. All is well.”

“...Wait.” Keith shifts so he’s deliberately in the man’s space, which makes him startle, proving Keith’s earlier guess. “I’m sleeping in your bed?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious.

Keith flushes purple. “I didn’t know I was in your bed!” It’s not that he’s…you know…never slept in anyone else’s bed before, but usually he knew he was doing it. And never a stranger’s, as evidently kind as this stranger has been. 

The man blinks. “I have a guest bedroom, but you’re too tall for it.”

“Still!”

“Dude. You showed up at my door in the middle of the night after crashing into the woods so hard the trees shook, bloodied to hell and back and near death. I couldn’t just – shove you in a bed too small for you. It was my bed or the floor, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to make an injured person sleep on the floor.”

“That’s…fair, I suppose,” Keith concedes. But he’s still a little troubled. “But I’m good, now. I can – sleep in the guest room?”

He trails off a little as he suggests it, realising, abruptly, how absurd this whole thing is. He doesn’t know this person. He’s shown up as an unexpected guest to his home – hell, to his planet. And now they’re…making sleeping arrangements? Arguing about sleeping arrangements? Is Keith even planning on staying? What are his other options? How is he going to get home? What happened to his ship?

His head starts to pound again. The man must notice, because he softens. 

“Man, just sleep in my bed,” he says. “You’re still hurt.” He gently pries the rag out of Keith’s hand, tossing them both into the sink and standing. Hands still gripped together, he pulls Keith up too, careful of his hurt leg and generally aching body. He begins to tug Keith back to the bedroom, guiding him around the mess on the floor.

Keith squares his shoulders stubbornly. “No.”

“Oh, for the love of –” 

The man pinches the bridge of his nose, staring at Keith in exasperation. 

“This is what I get,” he says, shaking his head. “For not listening to Hunk about the light. I deserve this. This is Karma.”

“I’m not just going to steal your bed and let you be sleep deprived,” Keith insists. 

“Well, I’m not going to let you not steal my bed! And it’s my house, so checkmate!”

“Not doing it.”

“I’ll drag you,” the man threatens. “I did before. I will do it again, do not test me.”

“You dragged me when I was a deadweight,” Keith points out. He straightens to his full height, ignoring the screaming burning in his leg. He has a Point to make. “Go ahead and try when I’m actively resisting.”

The man glowers at him, arms crossed over his chest and fingers drumming on his bicep. He has very long fingers, Keith notices. Kind of – elegant. In a scrawny way. Keith kind of gets those vibes from him as a person.

“Oh,” the man says triumphantly, standing to his full height, too – although he still has to look up to meet Keith’s eyes. “I’ll just sleep on the floor. So you’ll have to use my bed. Ha.”

Keith shrugs. “I’ll just sleep on the floor, too.”

The man glowers at him for several doboshes. Keith stares right back, eyebrows raised. 

“Are all aliens this annoying?”

“Are all humans this stubborn?”

A smile twitches at the corner of the man’s mouth. “This is stupid.”

“It is,” Keith agrees, smiling back. 

“Just – sleep on the bed.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“What if I sleep in it, too? Compromise.”

Keith’s cheeks heat again, although this time he doesn’t look away. That would be – embarrassing. Far more embarrassing than simply sleeping in someone else’s bed – sleeping with them in it.

But it would get them both to sleep faster. Plus, Keith would be unconscious, so how embarrassing could it be, really? And the bed is huge, so double plus! They probably won’t even be that near each other.

“Compromise,” Keith relents, finally. The man beams, but notably there’s a bit of a flush to his ears, too.

“Come on,” he says, reaching down to grab Keith’s hand again. He does it very easily. Keith tries not to notice. “God, I’m so pumped. I love sleeping. This is going to be the best.”

“...Right.”

Keith follows him, meekly, down the hallway, straight through the second door on the left, and into the bedroom. It has remained unchanged – the comforter is turned over as Keith left it, and the light curtains are swaying, slightly, in the breeze from the open window. The man wastes no time crawling right in, on the right right, sighing loudly as he sinks into the soft mattress. Keith is much more hesitant. 

“There,” the man says, as they’re finally settled side by side. “Hopefully it’s not – the worst.”

“It’s not,” Keith tries to assure, voice strangled. He lies as stiffly as he can, careful to keep his limbs to himself, not to crowd. He doesn’t want to – suffocate the man, or something. Who knows. This is a real-life human. Mom says they are largely fragile.

“Goodnight,” the human whispers, several doboshes later. His voice is hushed, sleep-thick. Keith chances a look, and finds him melted into the pillows, eyes closed, face lax. He doesn’t seem to be – bothered. By Keith. By his clawed hands, or big ears, or height. Or proximity.

Keith exhales, and lets himself relax. 

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, and sinks back into unconsciousness. 

— — —

next

later in the universe

[downbadmostofthetime]

Please go in depth on how you think wanderer isn't much of a red flag as he is now! I agree with you for sure, but I love hearing people's takes on him! Personally, I think scaramouche would definitely be a huge red flag, but I think as he is now, he'd definitely be really loving and caring towards his s/o

OF COURSE I CAN DO THAT!!!!

Scaramouche himself is definitely a very big red flag. From his ties with the fatui, murderous/abusive (to his subordinates) behaviour and as well as his rude manner of speech. He definitely isn’t the most pleasant person you’d want to date.

but Wanderer on the other hand is completely different. And because of this he is a much bigger green flag than Scaramouche and im genuinely so sick of people grouping them in together when he even said himself in game that he doesn’t want to be anymore.

So im gonna go over his green flags (more under the cut!)

1. Animals like him – He likes animals.

Wanderer is actually portrayed with animals in a lot of his official art (or aranaras), specifically birds and cats

His 2023 and 2024 birthday arts are literally just him chilling with animals. In 2023 he’s chilling with a bird and in 2024 he’s with a bunch of cats.

It’s not like he hates it either. sure it may seem like he does sometimes but he really doesn’t

-In his character demo he may have swatted the bird away when it came back at the end, but at the beginning he was completely fine with having it on him as he was walking. He probably only swatted it away because it was flying in his face when he was already annoyed with having to fight those fatui.

These two images are just him chilling with birds. The second one he even lets on his hand and HES SMILING he literally loves animals like they’re bffs in that picture ITS SO CUTE 😭😭

You can’t even argue that he’s only soft towards animals when he’s alone because of the scenario in his 2024 birthday art where the traveler meets him in the tree when he’s cuddling with the cats. It’s not like he’s even embarrassed or annoyed about them being there he’s just chilling with them!!!!! Sure he did tell the tabby cat off for playing with his vision BUT HE CALLED THEM FLUFFBALLS BEFOREHAND!!!! THATS A WORD THAT WOULDVE NEVER COME OUT OF SCARAMOUCHE’S MOUTH EVER!!!!! AND HE EVEN PROMISED TO PLAY WITH THE CATS LATER!!!!!! The white and grey cat also just lounging on his leg knocked out completely defenceless is also a sign. cats are usually very alert when they try and sleep unless they’re CERTAIN that they’re safe. and look me in my eyes and try to tell me that that cat isn’t feeling 100% safe sleeping on his leg.

This isn’t even his only appearance with cats minus him being portrayed as a cat. he has a chibi birthday art from 2023 that’s just him and a cat hanging out with a birthday present

The second piece of dialogue might make him look mad but the art literally proves it otherwise he’s just confused LMAO there is not a single angry wrinkle on his face nope NOTHING!!!!

2. His development with the Traveler

Wanderer’s attitude stayed around the same since he regained him memories, but it isn’t as bad as when he was Scaramouche. It’s very evident from how he talks to the Traveler before going to Irminsul and while they’re there for some time and then how he talks after regaining his memories. It’s much softer and he isn’t biting as much. Hell, he even asks the Traveler to give him a new name when he could’ve asked Nahida to or waited awhile before asking.

In his voicelines he’s still the same. Though the birthday one is something I’d like to focus on the most.

“Give me your hand. Heh, there's no need to be nervous. I'm just taking you to a vantage point.”

“How is it? The scenery here should be quite breathtaking. There's no need to thank me — I see little point in it.”

Wanderer went out of his way to do that for the Traveler on their birthday. He could’ve just barked that he doesn’t need to do anything for their birthday or that he doesn’t care or that they’re still enemies so he doesn’t need to celebrate it but he still does something nice for the Traveler regardless!!!Him initiating physical contact just to take them to a vantage point and reassuring the Traveler because they’re nervous is something he CHOOSES to do.

Now, I’ve always thought that he was flying the Traveler to the vantage point, but now that im rereading the line it literally doesn’t even mention him flying so LMAO

BUT ITS STILL SWEET IN BOTH WAYS

-He’s going out of his way to FLY the Traveler to the vantage point. And if he’d have to fly them there then obviously there’d be more physical contact than hand holding. That means he’s completely fine with having the Traveler in his personal space like that, so obviously he trusts them a lot more now to a certain degree!!!

-If he’s not flying to the vantage point, he’s still initiating physical contact with the Traveler even though he doesn’t have to.

LIKE OMG?????

In his birthday art scenarios, he’s completely fine with the Traveler hanging out with him. HE EVEN ASKS THEM TO STAY WITH HIM FOR A WHILE IN THE 2023 ONE IF THEY DONT MIND!!!!!

I feel like the 2023 one does a good job with explaining him and the Travelers enemies to friends (to lovers— GUNSHOTS) pipeline. He calls them meeting on his birthday a coincidence and gets ready to leave, but he’s completely fine with the Traveler not wanting to leave!!!! And when he asks them to stick around with him that’s clearly showing what he wanted the WHOLE GODDAMN TIME!!!!!!!

The 2024 chibi art scenario one is just them enjoying each other’s company. His regular birthday art for this year is kind of the same too. It shows how now neither of them dislike the other’s company, they’re fine with each other and they dont complain about it, no nothing!!!!!!

His Teapot lines are (OBVIOUSLY) the best examples of how he is when he fully trusts someone though.

Here’s a list of the things he does that are a complete 180 to how many people expected him to be:

-He apologises more often

-Criticises himself for criticising the empty spots in your teapot

-Perfectly fine with chatting whenever

-Despite saying to the Traveler that they should start the conversation because he has nothing fun or positive to share, he still dominates the conversation by talking about his tea preferences and how he came to like drinking tea in the first place

-Perfectly fine with sharing a meal with the Traveler that they prepared just for him

His goodnight line is really sweet too. Thanking the Traveler for looking out for him and telling them to go get rest. Like that’s so sweet 😭😭😭😭

I really do hope that he gets more plot relevancy in an event or in another archon quest because I really want to see more of his relationship with the Traveler now. They’re just so UGHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭😭😭

3. His behaviour towards other people

It’s not even just the Traveler that he’s nice to. He’s nice to other characters too!!!!

In A Parade of Providence he’s shown being nice to Layla and Tighnari

-He helps Layla by offering her advice when he overhears about her anxiety to participate in the swiftflies

-Gives the Traveler a water-skin to give to Tighnari because he fainted in the desert. Despite providing snarky comments about how fragile humans are to extreme environments he still goes out of his way to help Tighnari when he could’ve ignored what was going on to win.

I really hope we get some more interactions with Wanderer and the Sumeru cast because wtf!!!!! Why not!!!!!

In his 2024 birthday letter he mentions that his classmates surprised him for his birthday with a cake. And instead of being mostly annoyed about how they disturbed his peace and quiet, he’s more concerned about why they would even want to celebrate his birthday in the first place which is actually sad 💔

Wanderer doesn’t even seem to hate participating in events and things with other people either. In his 2023 birthday letter he mentions that he was dragged into a cooking interest group by a couple of students, and despite the fact that he could’ve just left or told them he didn’t want to participate or scared them off, he still participated in cooking with them.

As well as learning from an old merchant how to sew and stitch to recreate the tiny doll the boy from his past had made him. It specifically mentions that he went to visit Treasures Street to learn how to make toys, so this wasn’t just some run in he had, he CHOSE to learn how to make a doll so he could recreate that one. He even takes it with him while he travels and it notes how it feels like a travel companion to him 😭😭 AND THE ENDING PART OF THE TINY DOLL STORY

“"From today, you shall wander together with me."”

“He said softly, placing it in his pocket.”

LIKE THATS SO SWEET 😭😭😭😭

SO!!!! How would all of this impact him having a romantic relationship??

If you manage to become friends with him, it’s definitely going to take awhile to break down his walls. But in that time he’s definitely going to be snarky, but not outright rude to you. He’ll probably just get more annoyed if anything about being bothered a bit more frequent than he’d like, though he’d probably never say that towards you.

As you break down those walls though, he’s definitely going to soften overtime and he won’t mind your company. At some point he’ll probably be actively seeking it out.

And when you get together with him. He’s definitely gonna be loving and caring towards you!!!! Honestly I think his love languages are Physical Touch and Quality Time so he’s definitely going to seek those out from you, preferably mushing the two together.

Overall, in the beginning he’s probably going to be more tsundere-ish (ew… im never using that term again after this…) towards you but eventually with enough dedication from you he’ll break down his walls and let you in and show you his softer side.

And that’s why I think that Wanderer is more of a green flag than a red flag

Thank you for coming to my ted talk it’s 2am and I have therapy in the morning so uh whoops!!!!

If anyone wants to add anything please feel free too!!! It’s always nice hearing what other people have to say (as long as ur not rude about it)

[drarrily-we-row-along]

The curse Harry had been hit with wasn’t so bad when he became something cute and small. 

At the end of some days he just transformed into a little lapdog, easily squishable, easily manageable, easily lovable. Those days it was easy to curl up on Draco’s lap, to allow his ears to be stroked, soft endearments spoken over him. He’d often drift off to sleep, lulled by the peace and easy contentment of being scooped and cradled in gentle arms. 

Some days he became something a little bigger, something with bigger teeth and a bit of a reputation, something that some people might be a little afraid of. But he wasn’t actually dangerous unless provoked, just a bit larger than some might prefer; his bark was certainly worse than his bite. Still it was easy enough to allow himself to be cuddled and held, to be petted and told that he was good. Even if he might feel a little grumbly about it, huffing barks and little growls, the affection and gentleness he so craved with this form was easily accessible. There was always a couch to lay on, Draco’s thigh to press against, his knee to rest his chin on while he was told that he was good if a bit misunderstood. 

It wasn’t even too bad on the days that he looked more like a wolf than a dog, when his body was as long or longer than a human was tall, when his teeth were long and sharp, when his throat was possessed by the urge to howl. Even then, it wasn't too hard to transform, to run, to push his body to its limits before collapsing on the floor in front of the fire, sofa at his back. He was, theoretically, actually dangerous in this form. But hands were always gentle, stroking his thick fur, removing any burrs that had gotten caught, offering him water and little treats. The words were still always gentle, soft declarations of love, proclaiming his goodness in spite of how dangerous he might have been.

But nights like tonight were a different story entirely. On nights like these, he transformed into something far smaller than the wolf, and perhaps he wouldn’t have been seen as a threat in this body. Small, frail-looking, and very obviously wounded; everything about this body ached, everything about this body was too much for him to bear. And the woundedness, the pain that left him exposed and broken, made him more dangerous than any of the others. To be pet in this form was to experience pain, even the most gentle hands prompted a reaction; a bite, a snarl, teeth snapping and hackles rising. 

On nights like tonight, he didn’t go inside. He didn’t find his way to the chair or the sofa, didn’t find a comfortable place to lay in front of the fire. No, on nights like tonight, he carried himself, limping and bleeding, into the woods and found a place to lie down. The forest was alive with the sounds of creatures around him and even the noise rubbed something raw inside of him. 

He found a giant tree, one whose roots had carved out a hollow in the earth between, and laid down in the dirt close to the trunk, gingerly curling his body around itself. The small whines that escaped his throat were inevitable, he was unable to stop himself from whimpering in pain no matter how he tried. 

And that was where Draco found him, lying shivering from cold and pain, trying very hard to block out all of the world. A low growl escaped his throat as Draco approached, teeth bared in a snarl, in spite of the way that his presence soothed something inside of his chest.

“I thought I might find you out here,” he said evenly, sitting down a few feet away, giving him space. “I worry for you when you don’t come home, you know.”

He huffed and curled tighter, shifting slightly away from him. 

“I brought some things that might help,” he said, taking the rucksack off and flipping it open, “maybe a little water first?” Draco suggested, filling a bowl and offering it to him, “or a snack. You must be hungry from how far you ran,” he added, nudging some food toward him as well. 

After a few minutes of careful mistrust, sniffing the proffered gifts for any signs of poison, any ill intent, he took a few tentative sips of water, a bite of food. 

“Bandages next,” he said softly, broadcasting his movements as he pulled out ointments and bandages, salves and healing potions. “I know you don’t like this part, but it always helps.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that was true but it didn’t stop him from snapping at his hand when he reached toward him. 

“It’s alright,” Draco soothed, not pulling away, not turning back. Gentle hands, hands that had praised and healed before, resumed their task, starting with the most obvious gaping wounds. 

The process hurt, he cried and whimpered, shifting restlessly while the wounds were dressed. And when he was done, Harry thought he would leave, thought that was enough, surely, already too much to ask, too much to take. 

But instead he prompted, “Let me see.” 

He growled, low and dangerous; guarding the deep, festering wounds that he’d purposely kept hidden. They were ugly, dangerous in their own right, the festering was toxic; something that could poison not only his own body but that of anyone he touched as well. 

“Come on,” he murmured, soft and encouraging, “show me.” 

Pushing back, he found himself trapped against the tree. His hackles rose and he crouched a little lower to the ground but before he could work himself up too much further Draco took a step back.

“You’re alright,” he said gently, “you’re safe, you’re not trapped.” Another step back and his body eased a bit. “You get to choose. You don’t have to let me help, but I want to. I’m here when you’re ready.”

He laid back down, his whole body shaking with exhaustion and a pain that radiated from his chest and throughout his body. And he watched him. 

And Draco just looked back at him, not pushing, not expecting him to do anything, not forcing anything on him. But he made it equally clear that he was not going anywhere, that he really would sit there until Harry was ready. The experience of his desire for his healing was almost too much, it set a pain even deeper in his body, all the way down into his bones.

After several minutes of staring at one another, his growl turned into a low whine, soft and pitiful, even to his own ears. 

“Come here,” he invited again, holding out a hand and waiting.

He crawled forward on his belly and bumped his hand with his snoot and he carefully stroked his head.

“You’re good,” he murmured as he rubbed his ear between his thumb and forefinger, “you’re good.”

Whining, Harry gingerly rolled onto his side, exposing the wounds on his chest. They were the worst, he knew they were the ugliest, the deepest, the most dangerous. 

“Oh,” he whispered soft and aching, “let me?” he asked and Harry turned his head to the side, allowing him to clean them, to work in the ointment that would ultimately heal in spite of how badly it hurt, before bandaging them. 

Panting, whimpering, he waited for the sharp pain to dull, to ease.

Draco shifted closer, sitting cross legged near his head, petting him and murmuring soft, gentle words to him. “Come home,” he murmured.

He curled into a ball, settling his body back into the tree roots once more, seeking the shelter of the tree. It was enough, this place, wounds already tended to, water and food freely given; more than enough really all things considered when you saw his ugliness, his brokenness, the way he snapped and growled. It was too much, surely, for anyone to bear. 

With a little sigh, he unrolled a mat and started to settle on the ground, like he planned to stay.

Lifting his head he gave a little bark and nudged his hip with his nose.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said stubbornly, “not without you. You either come with me or I stay here, that’s how this works.” 

He huffed and gave another bark but when Draco made no signs of moving, he curled up tighter and tucked his head. Dozing off was a matter of necessity at this point, exhaustion made every limb heavy and achy. 

When he woke, body stiff and sore, nerves alight with the sensation of sleeping somewhere unfamiliar, he turned his head and found that he was still there, watching over him while he slept. “You’re alright,” he soothed, “you’re safe.”

Whining again, he leaned forward slowly and pressed his nose to Draco’ arm. 

“Home?” he asked softly, two fingers tracing over the bridge of his nose. 

And he gave in, let himself be loved, be too much, he stood and waited while he rolled his mat and packed up. The walk back was a slow, painful one but he stayed by his side the whole way back, not rushing him, just staying with him. 

When they got back he laid down in front of the fireplace and Draco built up the fire, then covered him with a blanket and sat beside him to stroke his head until he drifted off to sleep again.

---------------

The next morning, the sun shining through the windows woke him. He shifted with a groan, stretching his stiff muscles.

“There’s coffee on the table.”

He looked over at Draco where he was sitting looking out the window and sipping his own cup of coffee, before sitting up and reaching for the cup. Leaning against the sofa, he took a sip of coffee before scrubbing his hand over his face. “Sorry,” he finally said, voice coming out rough from misuse. 

“I’m not,” Draco replied without missing a beat.

He laughed, a hint of bitter disbelief in his voice, “you had to chase me out into the woods,” he said. “Heal gaping, disgusting wounds.”

“I love you,” he countered, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “I’ll always come find you. I’ll always want to help you heal.” 

He shook his head and looked down at his coffee. “I hate this curse,” he whispered, broken and frustrated. 

“It doesn’t have to be a curse.” He stood up and moved over to sit next to him on the floor, shoulder to shoulder with their backs pressed against the legboard of the sofa. “Not if you let me help you, not if you let me see you.”

“It feels like as much of a curse for you as it is for me.”

He shook his head, “I want all of you. You aren’t too much,” he added softly. 

He leaned over and rested his head on Draco’s shoulder, “I feel like too much.” 

“You’re not,” Draco said easily. “And it’s okay that you feel that way. But you’re not too much, your wounds aren’t too much. It’s helpful sometimes,” he continued, “to see how hard your days are,” he kissed the top of his head. “You always want to hide the hurt away from me, but you can’t like this. I like getting to know what’s really going on inside of you.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, rolling down his chin, “what if it never gets easier? What if I never stop feeling this much pain? What if I never stop growling and snapping at you? What if I hurt you?”

“That was a lot of different questions,” he said, kissing the top of his head again. “I imagine that sometimes it will get easier and sometimes it will get harder.”

“Great. That sounds really good,” he muttered. 

He laughed, soft and fond, “that’s just life. Sometimes we feel a lot of pain, we experience inordinate amounts of suffering. But you can always growl and snap at me, you can push me as hard as you want but I’m not going to leave. I won’t ever leave,” he promised. “Even if you hurt me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered. 

“I know,” he affirmed. “But even if you do, we’ll make it better. You don’t have to shut me out, you don’t have to try to protect me from yourself. I’m not afraid of you.” Draco nudged him up off his shoulder so he could look at Harry’s face. 

For a long moment, he just let him look, let himself be flayed open by his piercing silver gaze, every secret laid bare. 

“You are good,” he said. “You are loved, so loved. All you have to do is let me love you.” 

“I’m scared,” he confessed. 

He smiled and let him snuggle back against his side, head resting on his shoulder once more. “I know. But you’re not alone. I’ll be with you,” he assured him. “I’ll be your safety net, I’ll help.” He rested his cheek on Harry's head, “everything will be alright in the end,” he promised. “You just have to trust me.”

------------------------------

Read more of my fics

[starfleetwitch]

Berenice Griselda Wolfe tried to kill me and when that didn't work, she sabotaged my home set up by being a flirty MF with a TARDIS.

(Not a sentence I thought I'd EVER write completely sober or seriously but here we are)

This is a bit of a long story and now I've written it and got it out of my system I fully realise just how much I resemble a dog barking at a corner for no reason.

There is a TLDR at the end

Story time:

So I got this Tardis themed external USB hub for Christmas a few years ago.

It's kinda cool, lights up when you plug in a USB and what not. Fantastic. It also made that scrapping TARDIS sound when you plug in USBs. Also a fantastic feature, quite quirky. Much wow... For a week and then it really grated on my nerves. Found out after a month there was a switch on the side that let you turn the sound off. Wonderful. Fantastic. Problem solved. They all lived happily ever after, end of the story.

Except it wasn't.

Because the internet exists and with it, great knowledge that I shouldn't have been allowed access to.

I got bored and last year during some death scrolling, I found out I could change that hideously irritating TARDIS scraping sound...

...TO WHAT EVER I WANTED...

... And lesbian jesus help me, I wanted to be funny 🙈

So I decided to use sound bites from Holby City. Specifically from Bernie Wolfe.

We had "I say ding dong" for when a USB was pushed into a slot and "Easy tiger" for when a USB was pulled out of a slot.

Link here for reference: Where it all went wrong

Anyway. For a while it was quite funny... Except for you know... When my volume was turned up full blast and I was getting jump scared by Bernie Wolfe's voice every time I plugged in, lord knows what the rest of the house thought every time it went off.

I lived with it for a while... You know... Haha, scared me, GOT ME AGAIN BERNIE YOU OLD SCALLY WAG! But then things started going wrong. The jump scares started going into heart failure mode when in the middle of the night if I was doing a long download, she'd just randomly yell 'DING DONG!' or even worse, she'd start stuttering on full volume 'I SAY I SAY I SAY DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG'. GENUINE heart failure territory. Like FOR GODS SAKES BERENICE STFU!!!

Me being me, I forgot how I'd changed the setting to be her voice... And also at this point, I should add, the switch on the side to stop her talking stopped working.

I must assume murdering me in cold blood via jump scares just wasn't working fast enough for her because for a while she stopped.

All seemed well in the land of Starfleet Witch but unbeknownst to me, Bernie was plotting something bigger. Something she knew would REALLY insta kill me.

I started working from home for a bit and randomly about a week in, she did it again... Except this time she yelled 'EASY TIGER' and that was it. Nothing seemed out of place, she never spoke again after that. Everything was fine for a couple of weeks.

Until last week (AKA THE WEEK THAT NEVER ENDED.)

I'd been in an anxious spiral. Shit was happening IRL and I was TERRIFIED of the future. She saw this weakness in me, witnessed first hand how on the edge I was and decided, like the spiteful cunt she is, that now was the time to hatch her brilliant plan.

Wednesday morning. I had a deadline. 9:30am arrived... But my computer wouldn't turn on. I rang for help, I had switched it on and off many times... Nothing. 10:30am rolled around. I unplugged everything, had the very guts of my computer spread out across my floor praying it would be an easy fix... Nothing. At the 11th hour, I plugged everything back in and tried to turn it on again, constantly pressing F8 to reboot it and miracle of miracles, it worked! I downloaded some software to test the hard drive health, did some diagnostics and everything seemed fine. Better than fine. The computer was HEALTHY AF! So I prayed it may have been just a one off glitch.

It wasn't.

In fact my computer repeated its issue of booting up every morning after that, an expense I couldn't afford to fix any time soon but I NEEDED the computer for work.

Friday morning rolled around, I unplugged everything, held the very heart of my computer in my hands trying to find a loose connection or SOMETHING. Nothing. Everything was fine. Dejected, this time when I tried to turn the computer on, I only plugged in the power cable, screen and keyboard.

It worked first try.

And that's when I FINALLY got suspicions.

Over the weekend I decided to do some experiments. I tried plugging in different things I hadn't plugged in when I last tried switching it on and low and behold it wouldn't turn on when Bernie TARDIS was plugged in.

And that dear friends is when I decided aging 40 years in the space of days over a joke isn't actually funny and that I'd CLEARLY wronged a god somewhere along the way, for what crueller punishment could they bestow upon me than to have my very muse almost kill me via an anxiety induced heart attack?

TLDR:

I haven't found out how yet but my TARDIS with Bernie's voice clearly got possessed by a disgruntled spirit insisting on making my life a living hell and now it's in quarantine until I can cleanse it's soul and work out how to take it's voice away again.

Moral of the story: Don't give things Bernie Wolfe's voice, no matter how funny you think it'll be. Bolting upright in your bed because you heard Jemma Redgrave say "ding dong" at 3am isn't actually as pleasant an experience as you might think and when it happens several times, it's terrifying.

[8-rae-rae-8]

Idk how to word prompts but like Ghost turning into a werewolf but he regresses as well from how stressed out he was all day from the full moon (maybe Gaz, Price or Roach see him?? Idk you decide) -🐯

You get a drabble :33

It's probably not perfect I wrote it at 5am

He growls at first. His body all sorts of different, scars and chopped fur after his transformation. A large majority of the scars due to Roba's "care". Or lack thereof. He was about the size of a Saint Bernard, but less fluffy. Just big, if not a little bigger than a saint Bernard.

Ghost is untrusting with everyone. Getting a scent helped though. He had to be reintroduced almost every time, unless he was feeling really small. His headspace could reflect on what size he was when he transformed, but not after that.

The full moon rapidly approaching had him in shambles. Prepping everything, foods, a change of clothes for after. Making sure everything was perfect... It wasn't even that big of a deal. Johnny just couldn't know.

Outside of food, and some wolf necessities, he was taking care of Soap. He purposefully got him regressed and hyper all day so he would sleep the whole night. Maybe he shouldn't have done it with sweets, but he did what he had to do. It worked, Soap was tuckered out and he was getting a full night's sleep.

Ghost was not. He was pulling his things outside, the food and a large dog bed. He didn't want to even be inside on the off chance that Soap would look for him.

It couldn't come fast enough. The full moon taking its rein over the night sky. It almost reflected blue off mirrors facing the moon.

Ghost simply blinked up at it, exhaustion taking him as he managed his painful transformation. A wolf, bigger than a saint Bernard but not by much. His size stunted slightly compared to other werewolves, he could blame his family for that. The lack of nutrients, safety, and pack bonding growing up was hard, mentally and physically.

He had those things now, except for the lack bonding... It was dangerous, but he wasn't going to let Soap know. He'd be upset.

The stress was catching up to him. All his worried about Soap learning about him.. they, too, managed to burrow into his head and stay there. Clouding it in fuzziness.

A whistle got his attention, ears perking up as his head whipped around. Gaz had a specific whistle, this was more like his. Price's was more generic.

"Cmere, boy." Gaz called to him, sitting on a crappy piece of lawn furniture as he beckoned him closer. He must be tracking the moon cycle. The last two times, it was Gaz who was there. Always with toys or games.

His tail wagged, suddenly pulled out of his upset mood. The fuzziness stayed, but it didn't feel hindering. More like freeing. Like a pup. Simon dashed up to Gaz, plopping his furry bottom on the ground next to him.

"good boy, you wanna play, si?" Gaz 100% used the tone people typically reserve for puppies. He hair couldn't help it, Simon was both adorable, and lacking his usual bite.

Simon eagerly agreed.

Play time laster far, far longer than it should have. Gaz's hands were gross with spit covered toys that he threw for Ghost. And Ghost was tuckered out. The rules were strict, which also got him sleepy. No barking, no yipping, no growling (unless it was playful). The barking could wake up Soap, his own rule to follow.

The dog bed was accompanied by the both of them. Gaz sitting down first then Simon joining, laying his big head on his lap while he still panted from the toys. It was all so good. For now, he forgot he was scared. The toys still caught his eyes, but then he averted them when the distraction got annoying.

"You did good, Si, sleep it off...." Gaz muttered to him as he pet the coarse fur throughout Ghost's body.

A wet snoot pressed against Gaz's cheek in a few seconds. He got a lap full of heavy, whiney wolf. He didn't want to sleep... He wanted pets, and cuddles, and Johnny... Soap wasn't an option, so he had to stick to the other two.

"I know, si..." Gaz wheezed out. He still hugged Simon even though he was too heavy for a lap dog... Lap wolf?

Loud whimpers came from him as he pressed his snoot up against Gaz's chin instead. Whining and huffing.

The affection was nice, if only it actually soothed the ache in his chest. He wanted Johnny to pet him, tell him he was good too.

It just wasn't in the cards.

Gaz softly stroked Ghost's fur until the whining stopped and he slumped against him instead. The dog bed grew more uncomfortable, but Gaz didn't dare leave. He kept a sad Ghost in his lap.

Whispered assurances got Ghost shifting so Gaz could breathe, then scratches behind the ear had him wagging his tail again. Happier, at least a little.

His head came to rest back on Gaz's thigh. Simon let himself breathe and just be a puppy for now, despite his big size. Gaz was there, that's all he could ask for. Someone to watch over him.

[criolla-star]

Overwhelmed(Vinny x Garmadon)Part 27

(I suggest you check out parts 1-26 if you haven't already)

Vinny stayed sitting up in bed, not being able to go back to sleep how could he? Some weird figure that's he's never seen was in here watching him sleep and probably the reason for that awful nightmare. The cameraman reached for a bottle of water and drank from it. He stood up and wobbled slightly before going over to the bathroom. Vinny stared at the mirror and washed his face, "It wasn't real....then who was that...?" he thought as he looked down at the sink his hands holding onto both sides of it.

"Should I tell someone....? I can't tell Garm...he'd freak out....Nya? No....she'd tell Lloyd and I don't want that...." Vinny said as he splashed water over his face a second time. An idea popped in his head, "Wu! He'd probably know what to do....he won't tell anyone.....hopefully..." Vinny said before realising something, "Where's all the others...it's the only 6pm and how didn't they see that person come in....then again it did just disappear as well..." Vinny said as he continued talking to himself.

"Holy shit...I really have lost it haven't I....I'm probably seeing things....I'm just tired.....but I don't want to go to sleep..." Vinny said as he looked back at the mirror. He jumped back in surprise, to his surprise he reflection was looking back smiling it's eyes were a different colour they were now dark red..... Vinny grabbed a toothbrush to try and defend himself even though it would do nothing. "Are you scared~?" The reflection said as it grabbed the toothbrush from Vinny. the cameraman was really shaken up.

"You-You're not real.." Vinny whimpered out fearfully. "Yes I am...I'm as real as you, as Lloyd, as Nya as all the ninja and I'm as real as Garmadon~ He's real isn't he~ actually here's a bigger question! Are you real~!" The reflection asked Vinny stumbled back, "Y-yes...what kind of dumb question is that!? If anyone no, anything isn't real it's you!" Vinny said in a panicky tone before quieting his tone since Garmadon was sleeping.

The reflection smirked, "No need to worry about waking your boyfriend~ He won't be able to hear you~" the reflection teased as if swung the toothbrush around, "I don't know what you are....but are you even real?" Vinny asked, the reflection turned to him and smirked, "Of course I am~!" the reflection said as it stuck its head out of the mirror and grabbed Vinny by the collar. Vinny tired pulling away, but couldn't, "Even if you are real you're not me!" Vinny hissed as he dug his nails into the 'things' hands causing it to flinch its hands back.

The room changed colour from a blue and white scheme to a dark red and black scheme as the reflection climbed out of the mirror. "You know...I really thought this was gonna be easy...but he was right you really are smarter than you look~ Let me help you" The reflection spoke out as it went closer to Vinny and grabbed his cheeks making him look at it. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?!" the cameraman hissed. Trying to pry free of its grip, "Wow so much more aggressive as well, all bark not bite~" The reflection teased.

"Y'know....I saw the way you looked when you found out Misako upset Garmadon....I know you can kill....say how about we go after Lloyd and Nya~!" The reflection teased before summoning a dagger from thin air and placing it in Vinnys' hands. The cameraman looked at his hands and tightened the grip on the dagger. "What about your little boyfriend~ Well he isn't exactly little he's like twice your size, but, why don't I go hurt him...make him feel miserable...make him feel like he really hasn't changed and is still just a monster!" The reflection shouted before getting stabbed in the stomach by Vinny.

"Heh...good...perfect just what I wanted.." The reflection said before taking the dagger out which was covered in blood. "And wow did you stab hard...." it said as it twirled the dagger around, poor Vinny was so tired and sick of this. "Like I said before he was right about you being smarter...and more aggressive than you look..." the reflection chuckled before disappearing into thin air.

"What the fuck...?" Vinny said as the room returned to it's original blue and white colour scheme. "Who was that...who the fuck were they talking about..?" Vinny said as he began panicking and left the bathroom. "Fuck...all in my head..." the cameraman said as he sat back down on the bed.

"If it's all in my head why'd he know so much...." Vinny thought as he rested his face in his hands

(DAMN I'M TRAUMATISING HIM BUT I LOVE THIS CHAPTER IT'S MY FAVE SO FAR AND GARMADON JUST SLEEPING THROUGH IT MAKES ME DIE OF LAUGHTER)

[ay4kshalatus]

you and me, against the world [a wanda!y/n x five fic]

spoilers tua s3!!

reader is pronounced you/she

edited!!!, important notice 📢

after a small trip with five and klaus, you all went straight back to the hotel to form a plan for another upcoming apocalypse with the other siblings and it looks like someone woke up on wrong side of the bed.

“a feeling? aren’t you retired?” allison commented. you know where this is going.

“you know, you and your wife can’t drag us through hell because you have an itch only an apocalypse can scratch and then expect us to deal with the fall out. you’re not the boss.” you scoffed.

you understand her loss but what you find unpleasant is she made it sound like five is the blame for not having the correct calculations of stopping the apocalypse.

you bite your lip, trying to not bark back. five decided to step in and do the talking before you go on berserk.

“fine, we’re the messenger, and we’re telling you something terrible is coming.” he said, silently begging her to not do anything reckless.

“then let’s go attack the sparrows, get the briefcase , and go home.”

she’s ridiculous. you know what she’s planning. you didn’t invade her mind but she’s easy to read. you gently push five out of your way and confront your outburst to her.

“you expect that to be easy? time travelling is like programming. one crucial mistake and the whole shit start to crumble. killing our doppelganger to fix everything can make another time paradox so don’t put your grief to this situation. ”

the others, especially viktor was shocked. you all agreed to not mention anything about allison’s troubles but you can’t take it. the siblings have its own business to deal with, you know that. trauma, grief, depression, et cetera. but they have to realize that they need to think carefully of this situation.

it is so unfair for them to give all the blame to five when he’s almost in verge of breaking down from the failures. he then quickly added, putting you behind him.

“this is our home allison. accept it.” he shoot daggers at her.

a batch of cue sticks fall off the ground, making a clattering noise and luckily broke the tension in the room.

“wait, where’s lila?”

“that’s it! i’m telling your mom.” diego tried to stop stanley from his shenanigans. when five seeing the kid, he got an idea.

“shower. i told her she could stay with us.” the kid answered.

without wasting any time, you and five head to the said location.

thankfully five remembered that he’s married to you and know the code so he lets you do the job. you enter the room cautiously, sighted lila taking her time to bathe.

“ahh… did your briefcase broke?” you teased the female.

“two of them. looks like it. now i can’t send that little gremlin back to merlin for a while.” lila slowly grabbing the dagger out from her bag.

“and looks like your guy is a gentleman to let his woman fight another woman that’s naked.”

when she’s about to throw the weapon at your way, you’re no longer there. you teleported behind her and went to grab her dagger but she copied your powers and launches you off the wall.

you’re quick to react when she appeared in front of you and about to stab you, stopped her by your force-field.

infusing another psionic energy into your other hand, you mirrored her actions of knocking her off.

her reflex didn’t save her when your runes are activated and keep her from using any spells on you. you use your telekinesis on her, holding her form on the air. lila seems impressed of your performance and scared at the same time.

"well, it's fun till it lasted... quite fast."

lila gritted her teeth. “you’re a monster.”

you just chuckled. “you can’t copy everything at once so deal with it.”

once she’s all covered, you take five in.

“looks like you’re no match for my wife after all.” he mocked the blonde.

“i know i know. i’d forgotten how much I hate you, you puny little turd.” she spat back.

“the feeling’s mutual, lila. as much as i’d love to bully you, we have bigger concerns than you.” five sits on the panel of the bath tub beside you.

“yeah? like what?”

“the grandfather paradox. it’s happening…”

you three got out of the bathroom and greeted by diego and stanley. as lila and diego are having a discussion, you and five gossips on their back.

“wanna bet 10$ that stanley is not their son?” you snicker.

"i think i already know what’s behind those curtains.”

after tries of teleporting to your old workhouse, you guys somehow landed on the blanket of white.

“oh, brilliant idea, lila. welcome to the ice age!” five complained.

but you can’t believe that you three landed on different place, looking behind you and seeing the familiar structure that is covered by thick snow.

“shit..” both of you and five chanted and head to the building.

“holy shit.” now the three of you said in chorus.

everything inside is a disaster. it’s quite impossible to believe the commission turned out like this.

“the paradox might have affected them and the run of time and boom. winter.”

lila looks at you, perplexed at your explanation.

“is that possible?”

five handed you his jacket, which you deny his offer since you’re wearing leather one.

“we stopped tracking what was possible a long time ago.”

then you add. “nothing’s impossible.”

taking another step, a debris of broken planks fall off from the ceiling. you quickly grab five back to his spot.

"we better get moving. i’ll check the infinite switchboard.” he eyes landed on yours, thanking you and heading up on stairs.

“i’ll follow” you catch up to him. lila taking a stroll on different way.

“and i’ll check herb’s office. little cockroach would survive anything.”

she stopped midway and take a glance on the couple’s way.

“bye.”

…

“see you.”

"later."

“miss you two.”

“ok?”

“that’s weird.”

you two entered the switchboard. the state is much the same. a freaking disaster. you inspect around, there’s nothing inside but there’s an operator that’s still functional. five check it, only to see herb recording the situation.

“there’s been a rip in the space-time continuum. it’s swallowing everything.”

you noticed his agitated form, looking at the screen intensely.

“…everyone, they all gone. i’ve tried everything! i don’t know what else to do. the timeline is collapsing.” herb looks around, the place slowly disintegrates as the lights from the celling starting to fall off.

“this is… the end.” and with that, he’s gone.

you look at your husband, worried that he might blame himself for this. the whole time travel is not easy to do but you all going to make it. both of you know that. but five needs to be reminded sometimes.

“this is just like a bunch of bureaucratic bullshit. there’s no clear directives in here about crisis management.”

“the commission doesn’t have solid ones because all they do is to run away this kind of problem.”

“fair point.”

lila looks at the two of you, amused. do you guys really hate the handler this much?

the three climbs on the stairs, looking for the operations bunker. “you know, lila. we shouldn’t even be here. i was… we’re… we’re out. we’re done with this bullshits, and yet here we are, swept back into the chaos.” five ranted and scratching his neck a little bit hard.

“why can’t we just escape this hellhole?”

“because you two love it.” lila nonchalantly replied and she didn’t expected to receive different reactions.

“excuse me?”

“my bad.”

the couple said at the same time. staring to each other confused but shrug it off. “come on face it, the apocalypse problems are the only things that gets your heart pumping.”

five is annoyed and scratches his neck even more. “i don’t know why people keep saying that. we don’t actually like chaos. we don’t want them. we don’t want disorder. we…”

he stares at you as you minding your business, looking around to this messed up place. “we want retirement.” he continued.

lila laughs. “yeah, right. what? a normal life with y/n, creating a family, groceries and taxes. you would die of boredom.”

the next reply makes u stupefy. “to be honest, i've been planning about it before if only we lived on a normal life. having my own family isn’t that bad and you’re not exactly cut out for domestic bliss either.” your husband said while looking at you with a soft expression then head in the hallway.

you're surprised that five was thinking about marriage concerns and other lovely shits. looks like you hit something on his head. you froze on your spot, face in deep red unlike lila with different expression.

“’course i’m bloody not. thank god!” she exclaimed.

*beeeeppp* “unauthorized access.”

“oh shit..” five keeps scratching his neck and sweating badly. you can guess the identity of the person you all been looking for and you’re not ready for it. you gently push lila away and try to open the bunker.

“don’t worry, no one’s gonna come and get us.” then there’s a small light coming out of the device, scanning your eye. the result is still the same.

“unauthoritized access.”

“hey! did my essential rights got taken?” you complained. you’ve went into this room before but it’s empty at first. five goes beside you and takes his turn.

“let me try.”

…

“access granted.”

‘oh dear.’ you thought. entering the room once more, you spot a familiar old man with body is inside of the iron lungs. your hypothesis appears to be correct after all.

“i was expecting more man and less… can.”

“five… look.” you called him out to see the discovery.

he understand the situation, slowly approaching the man and try to recognize the appearance. “it can be..” his eyes widen in surprise.

“what’s wrong?” lila stares at you two. by the looks you two have, you may be familiar to this elderly male.

“it’s me.” five said. you don’t know what to react. amused, worried, astonished. it all written on your face.

“the irony..” you mumbled. your statement can’t help lila and laughs harder.

five’s old self explained bit information about the apocalypse since you three already know the kugelblitz. “so? how do we fix it?” he asked while you’re busy trying to read his mind. old five’s aging brain have no use and only receiving the same amount of information.

he wheezes, trying to breath properly. “you don’t.”

you're baffled at his reply. is this the five you know? since when did he gave up on saving the world.. saving his family? well, this five before you is 100+ year older and from the future. the future is unpredictable.

five also have the same thoughts but his patience starting to run thin. “if you created all of this, then you must have created a solution.” he tries his best not to lash out on his 100 year old doppelganger.

“he didn’t created all of this but must be preparing for this cause.” you theorized. he didn't mean to give up all of our hard work on saving everyone, right? maybe there's something that you guys need to know? you hoped.

“ahh… i almost forgot about you. your end is one of the reason why i’m still alive until now.” end? what end? what is he talking about?

the old five starts coughing again. “all that will be left is… oblivion.”

the more information he provide, the more you realized there’s something behind his words. oblivion. hotel oblivion? is the hotel connected to all of this? you know for sure reginald isn’t a type of man to build a random hotel as what you know about that man.

before you dive in to your deep spiral of thoughts, you noticed five’s fast breathing when the old him is dead afterward. this is your cue, gesturing lila to leave you two alone and the blonde understood the sign.

your heart clutched of seeing him so devastated. he’s been holding it for almost a month and only asked for a small break and deal with the apocalypse later. this is why you thought of doing this whole shit yourself just this once. but of course, he always have a way to find out.

you slowly approach him as he’s in deep thought, putting his head on your shoulder and hug him close. no words needed to be shared. just the presence of each other is enough.

“i’m so tired…” five mumbles on your embrace. you kissed on the crown of his head while messing with his hair. maybe taking a minute or two isn't that bad when the apocalypse is only few days away.

“i can see that.”

ahhhhskvxgjhvjsjjs five really needs a break and reward him with kisses and cuddles. mans been working straight 20+ days. •́ ‿ ,•̀

reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!! -pamcake

[sol-consort]

Trophy - Ashley Williams

[Smut, fluff, pinning, overstimulation, strap being referred to as cock, power switch, top Ashley, power bottom reader, nb!reader]

After a night out where Ashley admits to you, her commander, that she owns a strap that scared off her dates for being a tad too big, you take it as a personal challenge and order her to meet you at your personal quarters.

Or

Can't stop thinking about Ashley's gaint strap and using it on her commander, so this was made.

The sensation of the head pushing in for the first time burns, it's been a long while since you've done anything like this. The strap was bigger than anything you're used to, the bulky head forcing your tight hole to part for it to enter.

There is hesitation in Ashley's eyes, her hold on your waist falters, she opens her mouth to say something but only gets a syllable out before your voice interrupts.

"Shut it, Marines." You push down into her, taking the head of her cock fully in, biting your lips to suppress the loud gasp at its sheer size.

"Yes, Commander," Ashley tightens her grip around you and starts moving again, pushing in slowly as the sound of the lubricant squeezing her strap inside you fills the room, "Sorry Commander."

It's filling you slowly, with each small push stealing your breath away and forcing your legs apart. How you've missed this, to have something so big inside you. This way your mind could only focus on the feeling between your legs rather than the war filled dreams plaguing your brain.

It takes some minutes but she finally bottoms out inside you with a loud groan, the sight of the strong Commander Shepard taking a cock so large is doing something to Ashley's ego and pride.

Your body feels so perfect pressed against her, your back so hot against her naked chest. Her arms wrapped around your waist and hugging you closer, in a way, she's also trying to feel her cock inside you through your stomach.

She only mentioned it off-handedly in a drunken joke, her strap that never failed to scare her dates away, yet you've only looked at her as if it was a challenge and marched the two of you back to the captain's room.

"Faster, Williams." You bark to snap her out of her daze, getting fed up with this slow gentle pace.

She can feel her own wetness trailing down her thighs, the back of the strap pushing against her swollen clit and making each motion send a wave of pleasure through her.

"Copy that." She answers, pulling back until just the head was in then immediately pushing back inside. Knocking the breath out of your lungs as a loud moan slipped past your defences. A prideful smirk pulling at the corners of her lips.

A brutal pace followed where she'd repeat this motion, fucking into you. In and out, in and out. Rearranging your insides to mould them to the shape of her cock, pushing against your soft walls and using your waist to guide your body back into hers.

Your hair is a mess, sweat glistening on top of your naked skin. How much she wondered what you looked like under that tight armour suit you wore, all those long elevator rides where she got the perfect view of your ass as you stretched your arms.

And now she has you in bed with her, making the commander Shepard moan and thrust back into her cock. If Ashley knew how much of an easy slut her commander was, she would've made her moves much sooner.

But she doesn't utter those words out, doesn't dare disobey your orders or give a hint of disrespect. Even in bed with her cock almost bulging out of you, she still remembers her place and rank.

The pleasure is building up inside her, making her thrusts sloppy and moans louder. Clouding her brain as she grips harder against your skin, leaving marks of her hands around your waist with each brutal thrust.

"I'm...getting close to Shepard." She cries out, burying her face against your back, pleasure overwhelms her as she screams your title with one final thrust, hips shaking as more wetness goes down her thighs.

Her climax left her breathless and spent, her usual stamina was all spent as she got too careless, too in on her head for the fact it was you she was fucking, for the fact it was her strap stretching you out.

Lifting her head, Ashley meets you gaze, expecting you to be in a similar state as her.

But you don't look the least bit impressed, impatient eyes staring her down. Voice dripping with authority as you order her to lay back on the bed.

The feeling that she has disappointed you pours down on her like cold water, wordlessly she obeys.

And you're on her in an instant, grabbing her strap with your hand and opening yourself with the other. Thighs straddling her lap as you push the cock back inside you.

You don't give either of you a chance to adjust or go slow, instead you aim for an even faster pace than she was going with as you ride her out. Bouncing on her lap and fucking yourself with her cock shamelessly.

It's too much for her sensitive clit and she finds her nerves firing off, tears collect at the corners of her eyes from the burning pleasure as she bravely accepts her punishment. Letting you abuse her clit with her own strap, each time you push it all the way in and press yourself fully down.

Is this what she gets for thinking you were easy? For assuming someone like you was so simple to please? She curses her past self for being so overconfident as your stamina has a clear advantage on hers.

Minutes start melting into each other and Ashley finds herself pushed to a second orgasm. Her cum making a mess of your bed sheets below her.

Meanwhile you barely pay her any attention as you continue your ruthless pace, the way her cock presses at that one sensitive spot inside you. Ashley is attempting to keep her brain from melting from the overstimulation, the constant barrage of painful pleasure waves.

There's a harsh tug on her black hair, Ashley's eyes fly open.

"Eyes on me, Marine." Your grip on her hair helps you position your hips better, anchor yourself more so you could take her inside you even deeper.

"Yes-" she attempts a reply but her words are barely comprehensive through the incoherent moans and cries, "-commander."

You're milking her for all she's worth, her cum drenching your own bed sheets as her loud cries echo off of your room walls. You've reduced this powerful woman into a hiccuping moaning mess just because you're riding her cock a bit too hard.

They were always like that, you thought, so full of confidence with ego twice their size, and they've always crumbled below you in the same way Ashley currently is.

They were your absolute favourites to break.

But Ashley is different, more strong willed than you've expected. By now they're usually begging through tears to slow down or give them a break, which you oblige to. Even if it meant you were left unsatisfied.

Yet Ashley hasn't even uttered a single word of protest, she took everything you've given her in stride with a "thank you commander" afterwards.

Her hips still attempt to meet your thrust, to match your fast pace even when she barely has the strength too. There's clear fire that burns in her eyes with each time she successfully manages to force a moan or a gasp out of you, for each time she holds you down by the hips and grinds her cock into that one sensitive spot until it's painful for you.

She is trying to get you to cum, trying her hardest.

A woman like that never gives up easily, always aims to please her superiors and get a gold clean track in her record.

Her hands are all over you, squeezing the fat of your thighs, leaving marks on your hips, feeling up your stomach and toying with your chest with her thumbs. She is taking the opportunity to memorise your body, savour each and every feeling she got to steal during this one in a lifetime opportunity.

She knew if she wanted you in her bed again, then she had to leave an impression on you. Taking a deep breath, she used all the strength she could muster to pull your upper body down to press against her.

Your faces were so close together, hot breathes and flushed lips as the two of you stilled for a moment and stared into each other's eyes. Ashley wanted to taste your lips, licking her own she imagined how yours would feel against her, the same lips that spoke words that resolved entire missions without a need for a single bullet to be shot.

Be it your cunning charms or terrifying intimidating, everything you did only made the fire of desire in Ashley burn brighter for you.

She whispered your name, not Shepard or commander but your actual name. It felt as satisfying to say as that first bite of the apple must have been to Eve. Ashley has never tasted sweeter sin, felt a more perfect heaven for her than by your side.

Taking advantage of the opportunity of catching you off guard, she flips the two of you over. She could still overpower you or match in strength, all her muscles weren't just for show after all.

You're completely exposed below her, she has lifted the back of your knees to press them besides your head. "What do you say that we put that flexibility of yours to use, Commander?" Her ego rearing its head again, but Ashley knows better than to let it take control of her again.

Your calculating eyes are a clear indication of the fact she is getting away with this only because you're letting her to. That you could flip her over with ease if you ever desired too, after all she has the results of countless training brawls as proof.

With the new position, she feels more in control, even if her dominance is a temporary facade you're indulging her with. She can see her cock clearly stretching you out, see the ring of wetness surrounding it just outside your hole.

Best of all, she can clearly see your expression as you're forced to lay back and take it. Helpless and filled to the brim with her strap, Ashley dares to think that this is truly where you're meant to be.

She starts off slow this time, purposely edging you as her hand toys with your sensitive area between your legs. Fingers rough and littered with scars, short nails and all. Moving between your legs and driving you closer to your release, making you grind and push back into her own hand.

Then she picks up speed, her thrusts are more powerful. Each one moves you up the bed before going down again, truly pushing the steel frame of the Normandy captain bed to its full limit.

Her strap is impossibly deep, your legs spread wide open and helping it get deeper. It's everything you've ever wanted. Each time a stray thought about going back to your responsibilities wanders to your brain, it's immediately pushed out by a deep thrust that has you gasping for breath.

You feel her burning gaze on you, her eyes in almost disbelief at the state she's reducing you to, at this intimacy she has been allowed permission to see and participate in. Her lips sometimes part as if she's going to say something but changes her mind last minute.

How can she say anything? How can she pour out her heart on how you're the most beautiful person she has ever seen. How can she admit that she has been dreaming of this exact same day so many times, imagining this expression on your face so many nights with her own fingers buried deep inside her aching pussy, fucking herself with her hand as she whispers your title against her pillow, thanking her conmander for allowing her to cum.

Yet she still doesn't feel like she has earned the right to taste your lips, not until you're satisfied, not until you're moaning out in bliss.

And you're clearly getting there, there is only so much endurance one person could have in resisting pleasure. Your insides are hugging the cock pushing into them, each brush and grind against your sensitive spot is driving you closer to the edge, each time Ashley's hands pay special attention to your needy place you feel your self control slipping away.

There's determination in her eyes, she wants to witness you crumble below her, witness all the commander's exterior melt away as you bare your true naked self and get lost in the pleasure with her.

"Please Commander" she's begging, "come on skipper, I've got you." Her strong arms feel so secure holding you down, like nothing in this world can harm you while in her embrace.

One final thrust, she bottoms out and grinds against you. Then you're immediately falling off the edge, with a loud moan as your fists grip the sheets below you, legs wrapped around her to keep her cock inside so that you may ride out your orgasm with it.

She doesn't dare move, as if she might ruin this special moment where you're screaming out in pleasure. Everything about you during this moment is better than she could've possibly imagined, her fantasy never did you justice at all.

Pure perfection, that's what she saw in you.

Just when you begin calming down from the intense orgasm, her lips come crashing down on yours. Swallowing your remaining moans as she guided your hand back to her hair, letting you pull on her black strands as electric pleasure shot through her during the kiss.

Ashley didn't want to let go just yet, she has earned this, earned the right to your lips and she will gladly suffocate in them from the lack of air if she wanted to. Alas it took one sharp pull on her hair to force her head back, lips finally leaving yours.

"Good work, Williams." You breathed out, eyeing her swollen lips and flushed face, wondering if the fire you've ignited in her eyes would ever fade out or if you've just released a monster into this world.

"Thank you, commander." The monster smiled back before diving into your lips again

[evolutionsvoid]

Imagine you are a bird, fluttering through the forest. You soar amongst the trees, untied to earth and soil. However, your aerial prowess has its price, as using these magnificent wings costs a whole lot of energy. Your stomach rumbles, signalling a need to feed. You dare not venture on the ground, but rather search the branches for a meal. And amongst the green and browns you see it! The brilliant color of fruit, ripe and waiting! You land upon this branch and- hold up didn't I write something like this before? This seems oddly familiar. Bird is hungry, bird sees fruit, bird tries to eat fruit but instead gets eaten. I swear I have been down this road before. Am I crazy? Maybe I am, but I can't exactly keep the bit going since I kind of already spoiled the ending. I will have to check over my previous entries to see if I am accidentally copying myself. Anyways, what I was trying to hint at was an arboreal predator that hides amongst the branches and eats critters that show up in search of fruit. This creature I am referring to is the Gharboreal.

The Gharboreal is a reptile that enjoys a life in the trees, typically in deciduous forests. Though some may think it a lizard, it is actually related to crocodiles and the likes. This cousin has ditched the water and turned to the branches, using hooked claws to scale the trunks and crawl onto large branches. To help with this, their tail is more flexible to support itself as it clambers across the gnarled limbs. While they may have left the lakes and swamps, they have kept some traits to adapt to this new lifestyle. Their scaly hide is still tuned to blending in, but this time it is more hardcore camouflage to help it look like a part of the tree. Brown coloration, knobby growths, and a bark-like texture helps them melt into the trees they hide in, which is important for avoiding predators and hunting. It should be no surprise that this species still prefers the ambush style of hunting!

With their scales designed to hide them in plain sight, the Gharboreal will climb up a particular tree and find a good sturdy branch to lay on. Claws and tail help anchor them, as they stick their long thin snouts out, posing them as if they were another stick of this great limb. They want a bird to land on their snout, or a squirrel to climb up nearby, but that part is just dumb luck, right? Well, not for the Gharboreal, as they have a way to entice their prey! On the tip of their snout is bulbous growth, which is called a "ghara." This hollow structure may seem awkward on their long thin jaws, but once you see it in action you will understand! The ghara is capable of changing color, and often chooses brighter ones to attract attention. With a vivid color and peculiar shape, the ghara brings to mind fruit growing on a branch, which is what the Gharboreal is trying to mimic! When hunting, it sits perfectly still with this fake branch of a maw outstretched, the fruit-like ghara tempting targets. When a bird lands to eat, or another arboreal critter comes close to inspect, the Gharboreal whips its head and gnashes its jaws! Long teeth sink into flesh and hold the prey fast, as the creature shakes its head about to finish off its meal. Once dead or stunned, the jaws will open and close to slowly move the food down the snout and to the throat, where they are swallowed whole. Due to their jaw size and thinness, Gharboreal target smaller prey. Don't expect one of these to try and eat a human, as they would never fit! Squirrels, birds, monkeys and other reptiles are their typical menu options. Anything bigger gets a warning bite to try and scare them off. 

Since they don't target anything larger than squirrels, they don't come off as a threat to people, more like annoyances. Gharboreals like to climb into fruit trees so that their disguise works even better, their ghara changing color to better fit the surrounding fruits. So when one doesn't pay attention and starts picking through a fruit tree, they may disturb a hiding Gharboreal and receive a nasty bite for their offense. And since orchards present plenty of trees to pick from for hunting, they tend to infest these places. Though it isn't all that bad, as some folk like the taste of Gharboreal and hunt them for their meat! So if an orchard has a problem with them snapping at workers, they reach out to townsfolk to come in and hunt a free meal. So they aren't the worst threat, just pests to some folk. In truth, they bring about the same issues that people have with a ladon. OH THAT IS WHERE THE BIRD THING IS FROM! 

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

---------------------------------------------------

"Gharboreal"

So a long time ago, I saw a post on here talking about how gators can actually climb things, like fences and trees. This prompted someone to point out that tree gators should be a species in a fantasy world, as it would be neat. And I too thought it would be neat. I wonder if someone is going to do that?.........WELL BEHOLD, FOR YEARS LATER I ARISE TO GRANT THEE THIS WONDROUS GIFT OF-where is everyone?.....Hello?......Guys?.......I, uh....I did the thing!.....Hello?.....Anyone?......Hey, why is this door locked?

[sevikasleftpussyflap]

ok but what about the annoying s/o we all love with an equally annoying/protective pet chihuahua that loves to bug the shit out of sevika (they have a love hate relationship tbh)

i love your page so much youre one of my fav writers on this godforsaken site💪💪💗

Thank you sm <333 So sorry this took so long, it's a wonderful idea and thank you for trusting me with it :)

Disclaimer: Chihuahuas aren’t always demon dogs. This one just hates Sev and is old :)

Oh it's hate at first sight with that dog

It's your first time taking Sevika home and you're so excited for her to meet your best friend. You're talking them up, saying they're so cute, they're so independent, and they're a great alarm

Sevika's relieved you have something to protect you. She worries enough about you as it is. And you’re constantly spending money on your dog, she notices, so it must really earn its place

And when you tell her to wait in the living room while you go wake them up, she's a little shocked that they have their own room. Odd, but if you have the space, y'know?

So when you bring out this expired, decrepit looking thing, Sevika fucking laughs

It's barely working ears somehow catch the noise and sets it off

It runs to Sevika, barking and snarling like she wouldn't be able to punt it across the room

Her shoe is bigger than it

"I thought you said you had a dog."

"They are-"

"Sweetheart that is a rat."/“I think that thing escaped from Jericho's kitchen”

Its name is something cutesy like Angel, Honey, Cinnamon

When it gets too riled up it’ll always end up wheezing and hacking, followed by Sevika’s ridicule

“Not much of an alarm”/“Pathetic”

Sevika has beef with your dog. She deems it useless and she has to compete with it for your attention.

Sevika watches you comfort and coo over it with a disgusted look on her face. It’s like a child, and Sevika loathes those. She’ll purposely irritate it sometimes until you yell at her

It pisses on her shoes. You swear it was fully house trained before. Of course you never scold it, and go and cuddle it instead because "They must be getting old, Vika"

It knows what it's doing

Good lord. When it has some kind of infection or illness and needs medicine, Sevika's tasked with holding it. She begs you to let mother nature take its course

When you’re on the couch holding your baby in your lap and Sevika tries to sit next to you, it will yap and snap at her. Its bites don’t hurt that much because the thing lost all of its teeth by now so she just ignores it. Sevika does not surrender. She puts her arm around you regardless while it tears at her vest

As much as she loves you and doesn’t want to see you sad, in the beginning she was just counting the days until that thing passed away

Then one day she’s eating her breakfast on a quiet morning before work. You’re still asleep so she took it upon herself to wake the fire-breathing cretin, earning her hand several toothless bites, and took it outside to potty while debating how long it’d take you to get over it if it ‘ran away’. She’d never do that to you but imagining a time where she doesn’t have to live under its fearful reign is her way of coping

So she’s eating her breakfast, fully expecting it to hobble back to its grossly luxurious bed, but when she looks down it's staring at her. Not with hate, or malice, or its usual bloodthirsty leer. Its tongue is poked out between its gums, no teeth there to hold it in place. Sevika tracks its gaze to the last piece of bacon in her hand. Oh. A spark of hope flickers in her chest and she tries not to appear too eager as she gently crouches and makes her offering

It eats it, hacks it up, then eats it again. Until Sevika leaves, the dog is right by her side, eventually falling asleep on her foot when they realize she doesn’t have any more food. She’s late for work that day

When you later discover the old pup asleep on Sevika’s lap one day, you’re ecstatic. And who do you congratulate? The dog, of course. But by now you recognize Sevika’s different levels of scowling and know which one is ‘I’m jealous of your dog’ so you give her some love too

You often tease her for it and pet her head/ coo at her the way you do your dog until she grumbles and turns away from you (she will never admit she loves it)

Also you, being your annoying self, proclaim Sevika its 'daddy'. And start buying her father shit. "Proud dad" "Furbaby Father" "I'm a daddy". No matter how much she hates it, you refer to her as such whenever you're talking to your dog

"Is daddy grumpy today?"

"Stop calling me that. That thing is older than me."

Sevika has to drag you away from the dog toys at stores. She trips on them and nearly breaks her damn neck everyday. She'll be freshly awake, going to make her coffee and step on the loudest motherfucking squeaky toy that could rival Piltover's alarm. It has enough damn toys. And it doesn't even play anymore, but you swear it gets excited with each one you bring home. She has to check your bag because you'll try to smuggle some home

Even with their newfound relationship, the mutt still has limits. If you give her the task of waking it up in the morning, it starts growling as soon as she walks through the door

The door creaks on rusty hinges, alerting Sevika of yet another thing she needs to fix in this dingey apartment of yours. The noise is remarkably close to the rumbling, broken sounds strangling their way out of the awaiting mutt's throat, triggered by the hulking silhouette of the other competitor for its owner’s attention.

“Yeah, yeah. Time for breakfast.” Sevika snarls back.

She grabs the small blanket on top of a dresser, a dresser, filled with sweaters and bows and bandannas for this leech. In Sevika’s opinion, you could throw money down the garbage disposal for less hassle. All of this to help this glorified rat live a pampered life of luxury while most of your jackets have a minimum of three holes. Seriously, doesn’t this thing have fur for a reason? 

She tries to tell you. Tries to get you to look after yourself a bit better. But, if you’re not going to do it, she will, spending money on items of comfort for you while you do the same for your baby.

[vanoincidence]

Breaking & Entering || Van & Mateo

TIMING: current. LOCATION: downtown. PARTIES: @fearhims3lf & @vanoincidence SUMMARY: mateo helps get van the book she needs with a friendly bit of breaking and entering. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

Van pulled her hood up over her ears, bracing herself against the wind as it tunneled down the alley that she was taking a shortcut through to get to the comic shop. There were a couple of graphic novels she was interested in, and she had enough to even get Nora a gift.

“It is,” Van hummed out, “so cold!” She tried the door once arriving at the shop, devastated to be met with the large CLOSED sign. Pulling out her phone, she checked the hours, and sure enough, she had mistaken the day. “Are you serious?” A low pitched whine left her as she tilted her head back. The urge to stomp her foot won, and Van’s tantrum began. Not so powerful that anything happened, but it clearly caught an onlooker’s attention. Their voice sprung forth and Van was turning around, surprised by the company. In response, an overhead street light fizzled out. She wasn’t sure if that was her, or because this town refused to check its lights. She’d pretend it was the former. “They’re closed.” The sadness in her tone was apparent as she peeled herself away from the door, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Mateo drummed his fingers on the armrest of the bench, talking up a man, a stranger he was hoping to get a meal from. Her daydreaming had a nice taste, but he was looking for something bigger than a snack. The man was picking up what Mateo was putting down, nearly enough to constitute an appropriate touch to the shoulder. Another minute or two, and it would go unnoticed, but the mare wasn’t going to get that chance.

A noise interrupted the conversation, a young woman throwing what seemed to be a tantrum by a store that had all signs of being closed. Mateo chuckled, barking out an amused tease as he hopped over the back of the bench, only to stop in his tracks for a beat when the light sparked and shattered. That was when the man he was flirting with booked it, leaving the mare hungry and irritated enough to offer anything but a helpful hand. 

“There is a lack of lights, and I think the door is locked, so yeah, closed.” He nodded, biting his lip to restrain a laugh at the defeat dripping from the girl’s voice. He wanted to see how good the laugh could really be, because, come on. You don’t just ruin a meal, even if you don’t know someone’s eating.“The shop is always closed this day. Ain’t that what google is for or something? You know, checking the hours before you head out?”

Van’s brows furrowed as she ticked off the days on her right hand. “I forgot what day it was. I know how to use google… among other things.” She tightened her jacket around her frame and peered inside, willing the lights to turn on and for the clerk to open the door, but that didn’t happen, because of course it didn’t. 

“There are a lot of hours that a lot of stores have, and sometimes I forget them all. I’m not like, some filer of store hours or whatever.” Van knew that she could have easily googled to avoid all of this, but it wasn’t that big of a deal– she wouldn’t let it be that big of a deal. The old Van might have a meltdown over her self-imposed stupidity, but this Van with the magical powers and whose best friend was a bear? She wouldn’t do that! She refused! 

She took a deep, steadying breath before fully looking over her company. “Your tattoos are cool.” Van could make out a few of the ones that ran up his neck. “How badly did that hurt?” She touched the spot on her navel where she’d been stabbed by Debbie. “Is it like being stabbed or something? Or just a ton of little stabs?” 

Okay, the girl talked a little too much, and while it wasn’t horrible to be asked questions about himself, Mateo was still a little annoyed about missing out on a meal. Tapping his foot on the concrete, the mare contemplated whether or not to answer. He decided to anyway. “Uh…” He arched a brow and pocketed his hands into his vest. “None of them really hurt. Ever been scratched by a cat?” He shrugged, “Kinda like that, but over and over again.” But the throat tattoo definitely hurt more than the others, and Mateo’s stomach one did too. He’d never shook during a session before, and it was hopefully that last time he did. 

“Wait.” Mateo shook the distracting thoughts away, and refocused on the fact that the store was closed. Could cause a little chaos and break in, he supposed, but it was also a locally owned store, so breaking anything was out of the question for him. If it was a big brand, sure, Mateo loved destroying shit, but small businesses needed to stay around and be taken care of. “Hm…” Tapping his chin, he looked at the perimeter and assessed what they could do. Most businesses had alarms, but Mateo figured if he could jump in without being seen by Ms. Talks Too Much, he could get them both in, leave money, and take whatever the girl wanted. 

“You got cash on you? ‘Cause, uh…we could go in. You just gotta know how to work around a lock or two.”

“I’ve never had a pet, and I’ve only like, picked up one cat, but it didn’t scratch me.” She’d been hurt by other things, but never an animal– not that she could remember, at least. She tried to imagine what that might feel like, but fell short. Van narrowed her eyes at him, getting a better look at the tattoos that extended over the entirety of his upper body. They did look cool. Maybe she should go antagonize a cat to see if she could withstand it, and then finally go get that tattoo with Cass. 

“You want to break in?” Van’s eyes grew wide and she glanced towards the door before shaking her head. “I don’t– I don’t think that’s like, a great idea.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her coat tightly in on herself.

“I think that’s a really bad idea, ‘cause what happens if we get caught? Do I look like I’m built for jail?” It wouldn’t have been the worst thing she’d ever done– she’d killed at least three people, and one of those bodies was rotting not too far from here. “Do you like, break into places a lot?” She didn’t want to assume anything about anyone, but he was offering to help her get inside. “Or do you like, secretly work here and you want to see if I’d do it just so you could get me into trouble?” Van’s imagination was running wild now as she stood across from him. 

“Yeah, I wanna break in.” Mateo shrugged, not seeing what the big deal was. While breaking into places was against the law, it wasn’t as if the two were going to trash the place, or steal. They were just shopping after hours. “Look, you’re just annoying enough to get beat up only two times. You’ll be fine though because I’m not gonna get caught.” Emphasis on him. There was no way he’d go down with someone he hardly knew. Although, the idea of teabagging a cop, even for someone annoying, seemed like a lot of fun. He chuckled, patting his vest pockets until he found what he was looking for. 

“It’s simple—and yes, I break into places a lot, but your prank idea does seem like fun.” Ignoring any further protests, the mare turned to the door and began to work. “I’ll have to try that at my shop.” With a snicker, Mateo took out his lockpicking kit and finagled with it until he found the proper pick, inserting it and jiggling the handle until the lock turned. “See? Simple. Now get your damn cash ready and look for your shit while I check for an alarm. For all we know, it’s silent.” He walked as he spoke, making a beeline for a device on a wall in hopes that it was a security system. It was a bust as soon as he saw it was a thermostat. Ugh. He kept looking. 

“What kinda comics or graphic novels are you looking for anyway?”

“Only two times?!” Van pointed at herself with her thumb, an incredulous expression peeling over her features. “I was bullied like, a lot in school, okay? I’m almost positive it’d be more than just twice.” It was a made up scenario, obviously, and she wasn’t sure why she was putting that much thought into it. It seemed silly, all things considered– if she hadn’t been caught for her crimes up until now, what was the chance of her getting caught breaking into a store? Her anxiety numbed her tongue and she pressed it against the roof of her mouth, surveying their surroundings. 

She wasn’t sure what was fun about lying to somebody. She’d broken into places before, but mostly places that deserved it. Van didn’t think that small businesses really deserved to have their locks picked, or windows smashed. Her eyes grew wide as he began to work on the lock and she shot a glance over her shoulder, rushing to hover over his shoulder as if to block him from view of anybody who might pass by. “Dude–” The door sprang open and Van froze, gaze swiveling over the inventory inside. She saw exactly what she needed– it was a copy of Nimona that she’d wanted to get for Nora, since she reminded her of her friend. “Hey!” Before she could yank him back, he was walking into the building. “What about cameras?!” Van hissed, pausing in the door for a moment before she finally found an ounce of courage to pass the threshold. 

“That.” She pointed towards the graphic novel on the display labeled monsters. She didn’t think Nimona was a monster. It was obvious that the shopkeeper had totally misunderstood the story. “It’s for a friend,” Van mumbled under her breath as she walked up to the display, running her fingers over the cover before grabbing it. “Are you sure there aren’t like, cameras and stuff? The last time I broke in anywhere–” She paused, eyebrows furrowing, “forget I said that.” It wasn’t like he’d judge her– just look at him, he was a pro! “Um, but if like, this ever gets investigated, please don’t rat me out. I don’t really think I have a lot to live for, but like, not being in a jail cell sounds suuu-per cool to me, you know?” She unfurled a few bills to cover the cost of the tip, as well as a wad of apology ones for breaking in. There went her red bull and slim jim fund. 

“Okay, I’ve got it– can we just like, leave?!”

Curiosity arched Mateo’s brows and his interest was piqued when he caught sight of the art style on the cover. “Ni…mona?” There was another copy where Van pulled from, and he quickly snatched it up to read the summary in the back. Nemeses! Dragons! Science! Symbolism! It made Mateo chuckle, and feel something he hadn’t felt in a while. Not since he was a teenager looking at similar graphic novels and comics in a store not unlike the one the two were rummaging through. The part about proving the bad guys are actually portraying themselves to be heroes at the Institute of Law Enforcement wasn’t a bad concept either. Pretty punk if you asked him.

“Huh…?” Right. Cameras. In all the excitement, Mateo forgot to consider those in their tiny heist. He’d get to those momentarily. After he’d found a pen, a piece of paper, and his wallet. “I’ll get to that in a sec. Getting one of these for myself. This book don’t seem bad at all.” Still looking at the cover, Mateo went to the cash register and sifted around the shelves until he found what he was looking for. With a smile, he circled back around to the tidbit Van wanted him to forget as he wrote down what they were taking. 

“So this ain’t your first rodeo, huh? Dope shit, fam. Even if it’s not as funny now. People panicking is hilarious—wait, what?” Mateo halted his scribbling quickly on the paper, and he tutted with a grimace at the idea of being a snitch. “Nah, chica. Even if we did get caught and they tried to turn us on each other, I don’t rat. Not even on strangers.” Finishing the last title on the list, Mateo slapped the pen and some money down onto the counter. “‘Cause fuck cops, man. That’s what this book is about, yeah?” He tapped on the title, Nimona, with a smile, excited to get home and read it. 

All they had to do was snag any video coverage and vamoose, but, of course, there had to be a problem. Before Mateo could open a door to a back room, he heard the all too familiar click of a flashlight and the words, “Put your hands up!”

Well, at least something good could’ve come out of this! Van had gotten another person to read Nimona! She waited impatiently by his side, book pressed against her chest as she looked around them. “What do you mean you’ll get to it?” She was acting fairly distraught for somebody who’d broken into places before and killed somebody inside one of them. Then again, this was different; this was a place she respected, and there were no dangers. At least, not that she could see. 

Suddenly feeling self conscious about the entire situation for reasons that didn’t quite make sense, Van cleared her throat. “Um, thank you. I don’t rat either. Narcs are losers, and like, I might be a loser in other senses of the word, I’m definitely not a narc or whatever.” Her voice softened as she relaxed. This was strange– to break in somewhere with somebody she didn’t know, all for the sake of obtaining graphic novels. She still felt a little bad, but they were leaving money behind, weren’t they? That wasn’t bad! They were paying their dues. It was their fault for closing early, Van rationalized. 

Van’s expression brightened slightly at his words, “yeah! I mean, yeah, it’s about a lot of other things, too– and there’s a show which is also really good! But it’s a little different, but still definitely good.” She gave him a smile that, if he really looked at her, he would notice how nauseous she looked. 

Everything fell apart though, as it always did. The sound of footsteps, a flashlight glaring angrily at her feet, creating distorted silhouettes out of the two of them against the shadow-y backdrop of the room they were moving toward. Van whirled around, Nimona falling to her feet as she raised her hands above her head. She couldn’t see their face due to the bright light, but figured that it was probably a cop, or best case– a mall cop. 

“Um! We left– there is money on the counter!” Van was a leaky faucet of anxiety as she stared wide-eyed at the man behind the flashlight. That anxiety, of course, transformed into something else. The ground beneath his feet melted, sending him falling onto his ass. The flashlight rolled away from him and Van dipped down to grab the book before heading towards her accomplice. “We have to go,” Van hissed. She knew that it was only a matter of time before the man got to his feet, and they needed to be gone before that. “Ah– wait– the cameras!” 

“A show?” He made a mental note to look it up once he was home. Nimona’s story sounded like it followed a punk little guy that Mateo would enjoy reading about, and if they made a whole show about it, it had to be good. For a moment, he wondered if it went live action or animated, his thoughts circling back to Xóchitl and her desire to find new animated things to watch. Something about a friend that enjoyed the colors and such. He shrugged, dropping that train of thought to refocus on the lone cop interrupting their rather victimless heist. They didn’t even break the door! 

Eh…whatever. Mateo wasn’t worried. At least, not at first. “Did his…what the fuck just melted?” What used to be solid ground became a large puddle that sent the cop careening to the ground. Not even the shock from both being caught and seeing what looked to be a puddle appear could keep Mateo from laughing, though. Was she different, too? Had she caused that? Whatever the case, it was amazing and hilarious, and it also meant that he didn’t have to worry about disappearing at the blink of an eye. What an amazing night. Mateo wasn’t so mad at losing out on a meal now.

“This is great shit.” He chortled for a few beats, and the cop grumbled as he continued to fumble around like he was on a slip ‘n slide. Mateo laughed more, almost crying at the entertainment. He was only able to catch what Van said once the urgency of the situation caught up to him again, and even then, he was snickering as he shooed Van away. 

“Go on, get!” He commanded with his most playful southern accent, blipping away to the back room he had his eye before they were interrupted. From there, all that could be heard was a muffled, “I got everything covered!” While Mateo found the computer with coverage of the whole store on the monitor. He hoped Van actually listened and beat it, but there wasn’t much he could do while he was preoccupied pausing the cameras, and deleting the last few minutes from the cloud. 

Her accomplice was amused, not scared by the way things had gone. That was new. This was a little bit like Nora, Van thought. Was he a bugbear, too? She tried to imagine the bear form he might have, but her mind snapped back to the present as she turned back to look at him– only he was gone? How was that possible? He’d been standing right in front of her a moment ago, and now he was… 

The cop was still struggling to get to his feet and Van wasted no time in skirting around the puddle she’d created, craning her neck so that she could turn her face away from him. God forbid he have photographic memory or whatever. 

She wasn’t sure where her company had gone, but something told her to get the hell out of there before this guy’s backup showed up. She could hear his radio crackle as she pushed through the door, taking off down the street, Nimona pressed to her chest. This was one hell of a gift for Nora. 

[butmakeitgayblog]

Sorry to bother you but that anon question (the one about CI Lexa being "the little spoon" of cuddles and more) made me wonder about Clarke. I really appreciated your answer about Lexa, it's really interesting especially for her character's psychology but what about Clarke? She is not dumb, even though it is a recurring joke between the two, she is not. Maybe she is emotionally dumb (in an affectionate way, CI Clarke is one of my favourite Clarke's of yours so only love for her) but she is sharp and clever when she wants (😂😂) so I suppose she knows she has this "power" - whether it's given by Lexa or not - and I suppose that at some point, maybe when they're already married (so with a few years behind their backs and out in public), Lexa will talk with Clarke about what does this mean to her, what does it mean to give this particular "power" away to Clarke. So Clarke has to know how important it is to not fuck this up, to not betray it. And I can't stop thinking about how much this power can create a need to protect her wife, to be fair and good to her, because even though they bicker and banter, they know how much the other suffered and they know how much this relationship means. So (I swear I really have a question 😂) my question is: is there a moment where, even though this power is not used in public, except for maybe some holding hands or an arm around Lexa's waist, Clarke uses it to protect Lexa? Because I know Lexa knows how to protect herself, especially against people that don't really know where to draw a line with her, but is there a moment where Clarke is like:"You know what babe? Let me punch this fool in his face for you just for fun, I know you can do it by yourself and I know people expect you to do it, but I'm gonna do it because I'm your wife and I need people to know that I will kill them for you." Something like that, I may have lost my train of thoughts but something like that. I don't know, I can totally see Clarke being scold at home for such a big reaction but then being kissed because of it. CI Clexa (in some ways) remind me of canon Clexa:"Yes, you may be the Heda, but I'll try to kill Nia because she pissed you off."

That last line, right there. That's their dynamic at its very fundamental core.

The thing is, most people don't fully realize the extent to which Lexa allows Clarke to be in control because she is someone who carries and conducts herself with so much poise and power. From an outside perspective it would look more often than not as tho Lexa is just this "I don't need no bitch, I run this shit" woman, and unapologetically so.

But they don't know her the way Clarke does and they certainly don't understand their dynamic. They don't understand that while, yes, Lexa is an extraordinarily strong and self sufficient woman, there will always be that little girl in a black dress and braids, standing next to her dad's casket thinking, "I'm alone now." They don't know that while, yes, Lexa is a Grade A heinous bitch who enjoys manipulation and toying with others, a part of her will always be that little girl who had to teach herself how to survive in a cold and unloving home. Who taught herself that there wasn't anyone else there to really look out for her without a selfish motive driving their actions. Who told herself that it was ok that there was no bigger bed to crawl into at night when she needed protecting from the monsters in her closet.

But when Clarke looks at her wife, she sees that. She sees her exactly as she is. Powerful and conniving and manipulative and hedonistic, but she also sees that scared little version of Lexa as well.

And the urge protect every iteration of this woman makes. Clarke. Go feral.

It's just like the moment when Hellen slapped Lexa. Clarke was this 🤏 close to beating the shit out of her. Lexa knew without a doubt if she hadn't stepped in, Clarke would have closed fist punched her mother repeatedly without question. Clarke maybe 80% bark and biting words - her weapon of choice has always been her words and malicious intellect - but when push comes to literal shove, Clarke fights dirty. She's a brawler. She's not interested in fair fights, she's interested in what will make her win.

That being said, she's also learned a lot from Lexa over the years in the sense that the best course of action is to simply ruin their entire life. Physical fighting is so messy. Half the time you come out looking like a degenerate and taking a knock to your reputation anyway. Hence part of Clarke's less than steller reputation before they were together 😬

So rather than physically fight more, she becomes more nefarious. More of a malignant entity in the life of whoever manages to get themselves in her crosshairs.

Someone in their social circle begins whispering little unsavory rumors about her wife? Clarke will make sure their spouse just so happens to catch wind of their own little dalliances over brunch. A board member challenges Lexa's competence at the helm? Clarke will systematically burn every personal bridge they have within the company until they're voted out. You flirt with her wife beyond what Lexa's comfortable with? She'll pay an escort to seduce yours instead. She'll even pay extra just have them fuck the little Mx. right in your bed (with pictures 🙂). You try and make Lexa look foolish among your peers? Don't be surpised if you're getting pulled over with glove box filled coke. Whether you're into it or not...

She will literally smile in your face while driving a knife square into your back.

The woman has very little conscience and a protective streak a mile wild. While she had her fun punching a few handsy bystanders in her youth, dating and then being married to someone like Lexa for years has had so many delicious advantages, one of which was learning the fine art of subterfuge.

And while Lexa may be the master, it turns her on like crazy when she's surpassed by her very sexy student 😏