#fox has self esteem issues

[one-real-imonkey]

Still thinking about Fox having anxiety and truly having believed on Kamino they were bringing Rex in to replace him and not being sure if he should work harder to prove his place potentially endangering Rex or help Rex and let his grades slip so everyone will be happier when he was eventually taken. Cody discovers this and helps Fox realise he’s part of the batch Rex or not and he’s terrified Fox thought that way. They try to keep it from Rex as they work to help Fox be comfortable in his place without Rex doubting his own.

None of the batch realise these anxieties never leave Fox, and once he’s on Coruscant and sees the five of them without him, they’re only confirmed.

Thanks Palps.

[jackstheprinceofhearts]

guys!!!!! new apollo song just dropped!!!!

<3333

[born-in-hell]

w all the "sinners" theme going on in the qsmp i wanted to summarize everyones sins pre-qsmp lore

Take this as an unofficial and incomplete guide to the qsmp chars past mistakes and wrongdoings. I will also dive on their personalities, since i dont think they'd change so much from pre-lore.

ill keep working on this and adding more info !!! if smth is wrong lmk plss

the colors signify the intensity and/or quantity of known sins.

things like "demon", "cryptid" and "grim reaper" are added here not bc i personally consider them bad, but bc the fed/ the eye might see them as issues.

· qbbh: grim reaper demon. caused a catastrophe when arrived that killed many people (some theorize it was atlantis). burned a childrens hospital once. did something in venice. trickster, liar. (as egglore is semi-canon u can count it in and say hes a former cult leader but eh). Besides his children, trusts no one. Sandwitches the truth between lies to a point no one can tell when hes lying or not. Intentionally acts suspicious, pushing friends and loved ones away. Tends to pull deathly and sometimes harmful pranks on others for fun. Tends to lie abt unserious things for his own amusement. I consider bbh a fox-like spirit.

· qcellbit: cannibal, torturer, murderer. mentor in the war was a demon. liar, manipulator. name originates from his time in prision, where he used a broken cellphone to frighten the other inmates. Kept his nature while in the island, it appearing more softly in the start (the Regret arc, where he falsely betrayed everyone to get intel on the fed), and fully unleashing when he learned the truth abt his past ─ killing the fed workers and threatning qPac ─ and in Purgatory.

· qmike: thief. stole from rich ppl in order to donate to orphanages w qpac. both betrayed qcellbit (formerly cell) when they escaped from prision, leaving him for dead. Not afraid to go against authority figures. Does everything to protect his family. Doesnt trust a lot of people. Stands his ground.

· qfit: 2b2t veteran. i dont need to say more.

· qroier: was obsessive over his last bf. made a cult in his name. tried to kill him ig.

· qmouse: demon & proud. excentric, likes death and blood. enjoys chaos and suffering.

· qfoolish: afaik we dont have much info on his past. Isnt afraid to do what he believes is necessary, even when it makes him a villain. Patient and cunning. Tends to tell the truth, despite not always saying his true intentions. Two-faced.

· qforever: was a corrupt politician. bf from outside the island is a vampire. possibly not a human, although nothing is truly confirmed. If unhuman, theories and hcs span from werewolf, to fae, to elf. His mistakes arise from being too good for his own good. When he became president, he declared he didnt want to be corrupt again, or become a dictator. Always tries to be as morally right as he can, even though it may push his friends away.

· qpac: thief. stole from rich ppl in order to donate to orphanages w qpac. both betrayed qcellbit (formerly cell) when they escaped from prision, leaving him for dead. Has abandonment and self-esteem issues.

· qphil: angel of death. married to lady death herself. If Antarctic Empire is confirmed cannon, hes also a world-conquerer and war criminal.

· qmissa: grim reaper (unconfirmed lore afaik). Naive and innocent. Has major self-esteem issues.

· qtina: demon. hides her identity for unclear resons.

· qjaiden: liar, manipulator. even tho, is a kind soul. fed experiment. besides this, not much info on her past.

· qslime: we dont have any info on his past. Has a weird toxic relationship w qmarianna. Certainly not one of the purest islanders.

·qmarianna: we dont have any info on his past. Has a weird toxic relationship w qsime. Certainly not one of the purest islanders.

· qaypierre: fed experiment (afaik; i guess). he has smth going on.

· qbagi: nothing particularly bad stands out abt her past.

· qbagh: besides being a fed experiment and an islander since was a child, nothing bad stands out abt her past and/or current actions.

· qtubbo: we dont have any info on his past. Naive and impulsive young adult.

· qfelps: he is a weird one. He doesnt have any sins in his past, as he was one of the "good guys". When he was a guard at Alcatraz, cellbit attacked him him. It is unknown if he survived the attack or came back to life.

· qetoiles: we dont have any info on his past. Is a noble warrior, and values fairness over anything.

· qantoine: we dont know. no one knows. is envolved w the feds and cucurucho. a type of cryptid or smth.

[littlemisspascal]

Rockford & Roan Pt. 4

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC ‘Roan’

Word Count:2.8k

Summary:  “Do you doubt our match, Miss Roan?” he asks, and it’s a shocking enough question you legitimately can’t tell if he’s joking or not. But if he is being serious…

Rating: T 

Warnings: Language, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding, references of dead bodies + suicide, police, HTTYD reference, scars

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford. Reader is mentioned to have hair

Author Note: Thank you so so much for all the kind support 💗

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Series Masterlist

The Case

You take possession of one of Rockford’s spare notebooks, yellow and spiral bound, scribbling down details about the case he’s been asked by the police to help investigate.

7 suicides over the past 8 months 

Unsure why the brief lapse during the third month

Perhaps to throw police off potential trail?

Victims are all different ages, backgrounds, careers

Also found dead in different locations across Fox Leap—alleyways, parking lots, isolated spots

No witnesses

No suicide notes left behind 

Single commonality: all died by ingesting a cyanide pill

Suspects? None

Police aren’t convinced deaths are connected 

Rockford is certain they are

I don’t know what to think

The Invitation

Friday evening finds you job hunting across the internet from the comfort of the couch. It’s another one of the steps of Dr. Odair’s grand therapy plan to reintegrate you into society. Of course, what she failed to mention was that the potential career opportunities for ex-military empaths are few and far between. You lean back against the cushion, resisting the urge to grab your mug of tea and pour it onto your laptop. It’s not the computer’s fault there’s a prejudice against those with mind-gifts after all. 

The squeaks of Banjo’s stuffed toy pull your attention towards the dog rolling around on the floor, his beloved plush panda Bamboo held between his paws, teeth gnawing at its leg. Rockford lies stretched out on the white rug nearby, eyes closed, the picture perfect example of tranquility. He isn’t sleeping—you can tell by the tapping of his fingers against his stomach, a song only he knows—but it’s nice to pretend. For all that you’ve pestered him with questions about his job and for all that Rockford has patiently answered each one without even the tiniest thrum of irritation, his bizarre, seemingly nonexistent sleeping schedule is a topic you’ve yet to broach with him. 

Brown eyes snap open, startling you so badly it’s a miracle your laptop isn’t sent crashing to the floor. Before you can ask what’s wrong, Rockford’s on his feet and stalking off down the hallway in a blur. You blink, caught off guard, and exchange a look with an equally bewildered Banjo. Should you follow after him or…?

A knock on the front door makes the decision for you.

The prospect of a guest sends Banjo into a tizzy, ditching Bamboo without remorse, tail wagging so fast it’s a wonder it doesn’t fly off. You can’t exactly blame him. Other than a quick visit from the landlady to give you your own set of keys and introduce herself— Professor Rosasharn Claremont, an instructor of forensic sciences at the local university with prehensile hair she used to slap the back of Rockford’s head for not visiting her enough—nobody’s knocked on the door as long as you’ve lived here.

You’re not sure who’s brain function shorts out first when you open the door: yours or the unknown man wearing a police badge on his belt. He’s middle-aged, dirty blond hair, a scar twisting along in a distorted line from the left side of his mouth to his ear. A hideous mark, but at the same time intriguing in its uniqueness. You can’t help but think how if it was copied onto the right side, it’d almost look like some kind of villainous grin.

Banjo’s attempt of squeezing between your leg and the doorway to get a good sniff of the man is enough to jumpstart you back into motion. Nudging him away with your socked foot, you tell him to return to his bed, punctuating the command with a firm point of your finger. Only once he sullenly pads away, ears drooped as if you’ve just gutted Bamboo right in front of him with a butcher knife, do you turn back to face the policeman, who appears to have also gotten over his initial surprise.

“Can I help you, officer?”

“Inspector,” he corrects with an accent you can’t quite place, almost like a rumbling sort of growl, but despite the harsh sound his tone is polite as he introduces himself. “Inspector Dorrance with the Fox Leap Police Department. I’m here for Tim Rockford.”

His emotions are almost unnaturally steady, like he’s got the internal parts of a clock ticking away rather than temperamental hormones. You figure he must’ve gone through some sort of training course for mood management. Smart. A lawman with a high pressure job, anger issues, and a loaded gun is a disaster waiting to happen.

“Oh, is this about the case?” you ask with far more perkiness in your voice than you intend. 

“He told you about that, did he,” Inspector Dorrance says in the exact same instant that Rockford calls out from the depths of the apartment, “Get to the point why you’re here, Kez.”

Kez? You mouth to yourself before opening the door wider, inviting the inspector to step inside. He isn’t subtle as he looks around, gaze lingering noticeably on the few personal items of yours spread throughout the room, before he turns towards the hall.

“Another body’s been found. Abandoned warehouse near the wharf.”

“And?” Rockford asks, still out of view. 

Dorrance side-eyes you, clearly debating with himself the legalities of discussing an open case with a civilian present. A civilian he clearly knew nothing about as of two minutes ago. You offer up only silence in response, too curious for your own good to leave without him directly asking.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Your roommate emerges from his office, his trench coat gripped in one hand and mouth fixed in an unimpressed frown. He gestures between you and the inspector. “Kez, my current roommate and match, Roan. Roan, my ex-roommate and one of the only competent members of law enforcement in the city, Keziah. Can we get back to the victim now?”

Your eyes widen. Ex-roommate? How long have they known each other? There’s definitely a story there. 

“I’m sorry,” Dorrance begins, “did you just say she’s your match? When the hell were you going to tell me this happened?”

“Apparently not,” Rockford mutters. “I was going to tell you when it came up. And it just did.”

“You—” Dorrance cuts himself off with a sharp exhale through his nose.

It really is a credit to Dorrance’s mood management training his emotions don’t even so much as dip or catch fire. Instead, he shoots Rockford a look that plainly says, We’re going to be talking about this later, and then turns to face you once more.

“I wish we were meeting on better circumstances. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you since you’re his match that underneath this—” he gestures vaguely at Rockford which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You just gestured to all of me.”

Dorrance carries on, unbothered, “—is a giant question mark nobody will ever find the answer to. But if I were to bet on anyone coming close, I’d put my money on you.”

“Thank you, I think,” you say, daring a quick glance at Rockford’s face, which you’re pleased to notice has softened the tiniest bit. “You’ll be the first one I tell if I do.”

For whatever reason, your answer has the inspector immediately smirking, left side of his face stretched tight due to the scar tissue.

“Kez, in addition to being a recurring pain in my side,” Rockford explains, sensing your confusion, “is also a lie detector. Any hint of dishonesty and his gift’ll catch it. Makes him handy in the interrogation room.”

Gifts can be interesting like that sometimes, lining up perfectly with a specific job. A singer with the ability to alter their voice to any pitch, a fireman with an immunity to burns, a veterinarian who can speak to animals–you’ve seen them all. Human lie detector is a new one though, you’ll admit.

Dorrance shoves a hand into his pocket, fishing out his phone vibrating with an incoming text. He scans the message, smirk wiped off his face and replaced with grimness. 

“Right, back to the reason I came over,” he says briskly, tucking his cell away again. “You know how the victims never leave notes?”

“Yes.” Rockford’s listening attentively, eyes narrowed. “What of it?”

“This one did.”

Rockford’s expression doesn’t change, not even a twitch of his brow. His mind though, oh his mind’s the calm before the storm. Something’s beginning to stir awake underneath the surface. Tempted by the reveal, hungry for more details to dig its teeth into. 

For weeks you’ve wondered about the depths unknown to your empathy, about what lurks there. You’ve got a distinct, icy certainty crawling up your spine you’re soon to discover another side of your match previously unseen. 

“Will you come to the scene?” Dorrance asks hopefully.

“Of course. No point sitting at home when there’s an exciting development going on.” Rockford begins slipping his arms through the sleeves of his trench coat, adjusting the collar to his liking. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been down to the wharf.”

“Just try not to piss off anyone, will you? One dead body is enough to deal with as it is.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Rockford says with a wry grin. Then, turning to you, he arches an eyebrow, “Well, Roan, you got any plans this evening?”

You think of your laptop back on the couch, numerous job sites still left to be checked. 

“Uh, no,” you answer, shaking your head. “Not really.”

“Roan was in the military,” your roommate tells the inspector, but his eyes remain held on your face, a speculating glint in them that has you subconsciously straightening up. Almost as if you’re standing at attention. “You saw a lot of violent deaths, didn’t you?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Witnessed several dangerous situations?”

“Worst of the worst. Stuff of pure nightmares.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, becoming heavier. There’s a crime scene needing to be examined, a case to be closed, and yet everything seems to have slowed down all at once. As if the very air itself has frozen solid. And you realize you’re holding your breath, waiting for something.

“Want to see some more?”

An invitation.

Dr. Odair’s been telling you now that you’ve matched and your mind-gift has become more manageable, it’s time to pick up some hobbies. To go out to more places for fun other than just the library and dog park. No doubt she was probably thinking of safe and relaxing options like chess or badminton or pottery classes at the rec center.

The problem though, is that safe and relaxing doesn’t spark a wildfire in your blood, bringing you back to the days where you had a clear purpose to fulfill and problems to deal with head-on. You want another adventure, and here’s one dangling right in front of you, just waiting for you to say—

“Hell yes,” you blurt out, and even without your mind-gift you can tell Rockford’s happy with your choice by the half curl of his mouth and crinkling around his eyes as he asks Dorrance for the address.

The Doubt

Rockford holds the cab door open for you, sliding in after you’ve settled against the plush seat with Banjo secure in your lap. The little mutt’s tail beats a rhythm against your jacket, excited about the trip even if he has no clue the final destination. You’re still not convinced bringing a dog of all creatures to an active crime scene investigation is the wisest move, but let the record show your roommate has a helluva weakness for Banjo’s puppy eyes. 

“Keziah’s team of imbeciles disguised as CSIs are wreaking havoc on the scene as we speak. I highly doubt there’s much more damage Banjo can cause,” Rockford had said with an amused look when you voiced your concern. “Besides, no man left behind. Isn’t that the military creed?”

And well, he wasn’t wrong about that. (Not to mention, you’ve got a pretty big weakness for Banjo’s sweet brown eyes too…)

The drive to the wharf is brief without too much annoying traffic. Outside, the sun’s dipped out of sight and darkness is enveloping the city, street lights blinking on. Inside, it’s quiet except for a country song playing lowly on the radio. The cabbie’s mood is easygoing if not a little bogged down by exhaustion whereas Banjo’s is a bouncy spring of enthusiasm, nose practically pressed against the window as his eyes struggle to keep up with all the sights rolling past. Still, as entertaining as the pup’s emotions are, your mind-gift continues circling back to the man sitting next you like a homing pigeon.

Nothing’s changed within his mindscape during the journey. The calm, almost eerie stillness from before is still in effect. You can tell he’s thinking about something—the man’s never not thinking—but whatever it is clouding his gaze, furrowing his brow, is not disturbing enough to imprint upon your empathy. It’s moments like this one where you wish you were a mind reader, if only for a few seconds. 

“We’re here,” Rockford announces, paying the cabbie his fare.

Scrambling out of the vehicle, you set Banjo down on the ground. While he performs a full-bodied shake, you take in the cluster of police cars and flashing lights and abundance of barricade tape surrounding a warehouse, derelict and foreboding, along the waterfront. The press have also caught wind of the scene, prowling around with their microphones and cameras like vultures. You swallow, subconsciously twisting the leash around your fingers.

You’d wanted an adventure and yet…this is all so very, very different from a battlefield. It’s a whole other form of organized chaos, and it’s terrifying not having the slightest clue how to safely navigate it. 

Your initial fears were misplaced. It won’t be Banjo making a mess. It will be you.

Rockford starts forward, clearly eager to get to work, only to halt after five steps when you fail to follow. He turns around to look you over from head to toe, carefully nudging at your mind-gift as he does so, confusion only deepening when he fails to understand your lack of movement. “Is something the matter?”

You bite your lip, glancing nervously once more between the hive of activity and his steady brown eyes. “I don’t think I belong here.”

Rockford stares at you, the glow of the street light illuminating one side of his face. 

“Do you doubt our match, Miss Roan?” he asks, and it’s a shocking enough question you legitimately can’t tell if he’s joking or not. But if he is being serious…

Your head’s already shaking aggressively before a response forms. “N-no, absolutely not!” you say hastily, frantic to assure him of the truth. You close the gap of distance, hoping somehow being closer will remedy the spiraling situation, but when that doesn’t smoothen out the wrinkles on his forehead your empathy reacts by hurling a tangled ball of loyalty-friendship-safety-contentment straight at him. The most desperate of Hail Mary plays.

Rockford sucks in a breath. You watch his expression spasm, knocked off-kilter, before it settles into something as exasperated as it is fond. This time, the nudge against your mind-gift is firmer, the only warning you get before the ball you’d thrown returns and smacks you square in the chest. 

“Oh,” is your immediate reaction, breathless from the intensity.

What was it he had said before? You and him are two halves of the same whole.

And then there’s a warm hand on top of your head, gentle, affectionate, and you’re breathless for an entirely different reason. You blink up at Rockford, heart thudding in your chest.

“That’s right. You,” he says slowly, purposefully, “belong anywhere I am. Banjo, too.”

Banjo woofs, baring his teeth in a snaggletoothed grin, and you’d chuckle at that if you had any air left in your lungs. Not for the first time, you cannot help but marvel at your match’s realness. There’s no such thing as perfection, but you think he comes pretty damn close. 

“Now you’ve done it,” you aim for humor, but you can’t shake the wobble from your voice. “You'll never know a moment’s peace again.”

“Ah, peace is overrated,” Rockford declares with an unconcerned shrug, hand returning to the pocket of his trench coat. “So, we’re in agreement then. We’re stuck with each other.”

“Mhmm, no take backsies.”

You needed this moment, this reassurance. The doubts you hadn’t even known you carried have been firmly put to rest, vanquished by the proof he values the soulbond tying your lives together just as much as you do. 

But despite the importance of this conversation you can’t keep ignoring the flashing lights up ahead forever. Your eyes slide past Rockford, spotting Inspector Dorrance in his grey suit amongst the sea of navy uniformed officers gesturing with his arms.

“Ultimately, it’s your choice where you go,” Rockford says, and it’s clear he’s made up his own mind by the way he turns away from you, resuming his walk towards the scene. 

You watch the dramatic flaring of the bottom of his coat with each step, watch the tapping of his fingers against his left thigh, watch as the man tosses one last remark over his shoulder:

“Keep up, Roan. We both know you’re coming with me.”

By the time he reaches the barricade tape, you and Banjo are right by his side. Exactly where you both belong.

[mim526]

How Do You Solve the Problem of Harry

From Daily Mail:

‘Our country is judged globally by the state of our Press and our Government — both of which I believe are at rock bottom. Democracy fails when your Press fails to scrutinise and hold the Government accountable, and instead choose to get into bed with them so that they can ensure the status quo.’ ~~ Testimony given in court June 7, 2023 by Harry Mountbatten-Windsor, 5th in line to British throne

Now he's done it. Harold has truly set the fox among the chickens.

Excerpts from one of the best summaries I've read of the situation with Harry and what needs to be done to address it:

"...what he wrote about [the Government] being at ‘rock bottom’ amounts to an unprecedented attack by a senior member of the Royal Family (Harry is fifth in line to the throne). No such royal broadside against elected politicians has ever before been delivered during the history of our constitutional monarchy. It is deplorable — and dangerous.

"...Yet here is the highly privileged Harry, who wrongly accuses the Press as a whole of not holding the ‘rock bottom’ Government to account, doing his utmost to curb newspapers — so that they won’t be free to hold rich and powerful people like him to account. It’s mind-boggling. "This spoilt and entitled man can say whatever he likes, however self-serving. I don’t even mind too much his ignorant attacks on the Press since the Fourth Estate can look after itself, and has survived more formidable foes than Harry

"What I do object to is his assault on the Government — not because I like this crew very much or esteem their competence, but because they are our elected representatives, and shouldn’t be publicly excoriated by an unelected, and foolish, senior member of the Royal Family. "Our constitutional arrangements are a delicate organism, the product of past divisions and compromise. We tolerate — some of us may revere — an unelected head of state, and a Royal Family with all the trimmings, on the firm understanding that they stand apart from politics. "It has worked well enough for the past 200 years because, with a few exceptions, we have had monarchs who have understood the limits of their powers, and respected the right of elected politicians to govern, albeit with the benefit of royal advice. "Of course, no one better understood the importance of safeguarding this precious relationship between Crown and Parliament than our late Queen, Elizabeth II. How Harry’s coarse political invective would have grieved her. "He’s like an unguided missile, sighting enemies here and there, emitting a good deal of smoke and making lots of noise, before finally crashing to earth with an inevitable explosion — and then mysteriously taking off again, seeking some new target. "In short, he’s potentially lethal. If he describes the Government today as ‘rock bottom’, next month or next year he will unearth another disobliging adjective in defiance of our constitutional traditions....  "Or he may direct his rage once more against the royal institution that nurtured him and endowed him with such significance as he will ever have in this world. His father the King hasn’t been immune to his criticisms in the past, and won’t be in the future. "Harry is a divisive figure. He sets people against each other on issues ranging from the Press to the Royal Family to racism and now, his latest bugbear, the Tory Government. "We can work on the assumption this tumultuous character isn’t suddenly going to learn how to behave. That’s never going to happen, with him 6,000 miles away in California, and Meghan by his side. Their future income depends on fomenting controversy. "Harry is the King’s number one problem. And it is not, as Charles should know and his mother certainly realised, primarily a family problem, though it’s partly that. Harry is chiefly dangerous because he is a constitutional liability. "The King loves his errant younger son, despite the lack of respect he has shown to him. I’m sure he hopes Harry will one day return to the fold. But think of the damage he could do before that happens. And of course he might never return. "If the two of them were still close, and spoke to each other, a way might still be found of persuading Harry to stop stirring. But he is alienated from his father, and the rift inevitably widens with every inept public intervention. "There’s only one way. It may be hard for the King as a father, but it should be easy for him as a monarch and head of state. Prince Harry must be told that if he wishes to remain a member of the Royal Family, he will have to behave as members of the Royal Family are expected to. "If he can’t accept this ultimatum — and I don’t imagine he could — Prince Harry must become a private citizen, in which role his facile declamations will soon be barely noticed, and cause no more damage to the country he once served."

What this journalist did not say is

Even if he agrees with Harry about the government -- King Charles needs to initiate action as monarch/head of state to a) give Harry the ultimatum to behave as a royal then b) work with Parliament to divest Harry of his royal status if he refuses to comply.

The Prime Minister as head of the government needs to view Harry's comments re: the government given in court as the constitutional crisis they are and accordingly, advise the King to take this action

What could/should happen to Charles as monarch if he does not deal with the legitimate and serious constitutional crisis a senior member of the monarchy has created.

Interesting discussion of monarch/prime minister roles: What role should the monarch have in a constitutional crisis? | The Constitution Unit Blog (constitution-unit.com)

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

We are way past W&C vs. C&C fandoms now. This journalist is absolutely correct that Harry is Charles' number one problem for which there is but one solution. We can debate whether Charles was a good father; he certainly was and is a loving one.

Being a good monarch is more than charitable works and long hours on the job. I would argue that more consequences for bad behavior as a child could have addressed the uber entitlement/arrogance underlying Harry's foolhardy, but dangerous activities as an adult. There weren't consequences, however, so here we are. Harry's responsible for Harry now, period, full stop.

I hope Charles can be persuaded to firm his resolve and do what he won't want to but needs to do to preserve the monarchy. It cannot survive if Harry is allowed to continue pitting it against the government. That is not an exaggeration: Harry made very clear he was acting as an HRH and senior member of the royal family when suing the British press and speaking against the British government. Word to the wise, Harry will not stop with the British government....

#Harry #MirrorGroupTestimony #ConstitutionalCrisis #It'sCrunchTime

[princess-of-the-corner]

Glad you found that AU idea fascinating! Its probably my most well developed conceptually even if the plot structure is a mess XD Also slight correction it should have been Six-Teen Heroes cos pun.

The team is: Dragon - Kagami Tiger - Juleka Snake - Luka Horse - Nino Bee - Chloe Fox - Lila

Marinette will eventually get the Mouse, but Mullo divided themselves into several thousand when escaping Scarlet Sovereign (Gabriel) and took awhile to both come back together & pick a user.

There's some noted shifts in some of the powers because of both the changed circumstances & adapted world building/story needs.

Horse can do solo teleports, not just portals. Mouse can duplicate itself or multiply other things. Tiger is more like manufacturing an explosion via chemical reaction. Dragon is mostly the same, but it can channel lesser attacks through the sword. Snake is literal, you only get 1 second chance not infinite, but you also get excellent premonition. Bee can 'subjugate' objects, essentially imbuing them with magic that lets Chloe command & direct them. Turtle can make its wearer vastly more durable rather than just shields & also create a wider variety of protections and traps. Fox is a bit iffy, I keep oscillating on either it being able to tap into people's minds to make mirages, or to super charge illusions and make them real.

Also users can utilize their powers several times (Barring Second Chance) if they do more small scale versions of them. But doing so reduces their overall energy pool, meaning they may not be able to do a full power version.

For example:

Bee can sting five enemies for one minute, or one enemy for five minutes, or command objects more easily than it can bind living foe, ETC.

Horse can single person teleport and depending of mix of distance can do this many times, but long distances or too many & they become unable to open a portal.

NOTES:

Some other factors I like for the AU:

The Kwmai while not malevolent do have their own morals, ideals or goals not totally aligned with Fu's. Though all want to free their family. This informs some of their choices.

Tomoe Tsurugi has the butterfly and is opposed to Gabriel but is not on the Heroes side, if anything she wants to take them over or take their Miraculous. This is also why Kagami is in Paris early.

Lila was picked cos she's good at spinning lies at the drop of a hat & Trixx is amused. But Trixx also primarily uses the truth to manipulate people & is trying to basically trick Lila into genuine heroism.

There's a much stronger focus on trying to reduce civilian causalities in this AU as there is no Miracle Cure available. So the team tends to be divided up into the main fighters & emergency evacuation/defense.

Scarlet Sovereign mostly uses what he calls Charm Constructs at first & later upgrades to "Shikigami". The former involve using a charm to transform a mundane objects into an automaton, while the latter is basically creating a quasi magic 'spirit' to fight for him.

Debating Audrey having the Peacock and doing her own thing with a fixed version, or otherwise being a problem too, but not sure.

One theme I want to explore is how secret identity and powers affects behavior.

Like Chloe as Queen Bee is much more responsible and respectable, but this does not bleed over into her civilian life for awhile. Or how Juleka feels so confident as Tigress she gives up on pursuing Rose as herself & tries to do so as a hero exclusively. Or how Nino is not above utilizing the Horse for more childish or selfish ends, but also sort of questions if power corrupts, ETC.

All of them have identity, self esteem, trauma or behavioral issues is what I am getting at XD

Oh dope!

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

themes!!

casual kindness

never giving up hope not even for a second!!

everybody is in earnest, even if it's painfully so

self sacrificing love

but that doesn't come out of self hatred that comes out of love for everyone including themselves

joy in one another and in nature

willingness to work hard to benefit everyone

characters!!

judith 'magpie' holmes strengths: sees the best in everyone, easily trusting weaknesses: overconfidence neutral: likes shiny things magic(?): rudimentary communication with birds

erin 'dormouse' campbell strengths: easily trusting, thinks deeply weaknesses: mild self esteem issues, lack of confidence neutral: favourite colour is green magic(?): brilliant tracker

daniel 'kingfisher' martin strengths: unshakeable optimism, gentleness weaknesses: able to be easily led astray neutral: lots of hand gestures magic(?): exceptionally good at diving and holding his breath underwater

roberta 'tortoise' carter strengths: deep thinker, carefully considers all options weaknesses: can be indecisive neutral: good at dancing magic(?): everything grows faster when she's around

anna 'robin' mccartney strengths: reminding everyone of God's goodness, hopeful, gentleness weaknesses: can be overbearing, sometimes leaves others behind by accident neutral: moves quickly magic(?): rudimentary communication with animals, generally prey animals

grace 'dolphin' andrews strengths: kind, patient, stubborn weaknesses: has difficulty letting go of preconceived notions, jumps to conclusions neutral: has the most intoxicating laugh magic(?): can sprint or swim long distances without being tired or out of breath

patrick 'fox' andrews strengths: very much in earnest, quick-witted, stubborn weaknesses: can be sarcastic and occasionally nasty because of it, can accidentally talk over others neutral: brother to grace magic(?): can jump incredibly high

ryan 'elephant' rogers strengths: good at picking up patterns, patient weaknesses: can be prejudiced neutral: ends up going home to his uncle and hence passing out of the story magic(?): incredibly strong

?? 'panda' nolan strengths: extreme enthusiasm and is very quick to hype others up weaknesses: prone to constant small lies neutral: magic(?):

?? 'snow leopard' scrooge

thaddeus 'tadpole' scrooge strengths: very trusting, sees the best in everyone weaknesses: slightly prone to being whiny neutral: originally nicknamed frog, snowy is his big brother, is the BONUS CHILDLING magic(?): can talk to frogs

pollyanna 'pollywog' scrooge strengths: hopeful and upbeat weaknesses: can be unrealistic in expectations neutral: sister to snowy and tad magic(?): can fit through small spaces nobody else can even tad

[nemaliwrites]

My super secret Big Bang fic is finally not so secret! My @mlbigbang fic, In Pursuit of the Uneatable, will be posted on January 1st!

Relationships: Adrien/Marinette, Marinette & Tikki, Marinette & Chat Blanc Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Inspired by Bunny, Manipulative Lila Rossi, Self-Esteem Issues, Identity Issues, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir is not Chat Blanc, Introspection, Canon-Typical Violence, Lila Rossi's Downfall, Hurt Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Psychological Horror, Moral Ambiguity, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Unreliable Narrator Summary: Who do you trust when your own reflection becomes a stranger? In a Paris where Lila weaves tales that blind the city, Marinette stands accused, isolated. Her parents’ trust is shattered, her friends distant, and in battle, illusions blur the line between ally and enemy. As the shadows and uncertainty threaten to close in, Marinette finds herself turning to the last person who claims to be on her side: a boy in a white mask who calls himself a fox hunter.

and here's a lil snippet from chapter 12:

Ladybug’s been crafting her apology in her head for days now, but if there’s one thing she’s certain of, it’s that it’ll all fall apart the second she lays eyes on him. That is, if he even shows up — it only occurs to her now that he might not, that he might be angry enough at her to avoid her.

But he does show up. Of course he does. She never should have doubted that; the fact that she did only has the effect of making her feel more guilty. Because he would never put his own feelings ahead of their duty, and she never should have thought he would. 

He comes, a shadow in the night, to stand before her. For a fraction of a second, Ladybug finds herself doubting which cat this is — after all, noir and blanc are two sides of the same coin, are they not? When she sees his eyes, though, she knows truth: his eyes that are one color, the greenest green. 

“Chat Noir,” she says, voice nearly lost in the wind. The only indication he’s heard her is the way he turns. His profile, the only thing that’s illuminated, faces her. “I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. 

“I’m so sorry,” Ladybug continues. Her voice threatens to break, but still, she persists. “I should have told you everything, I know that. I…I never meant to leave you in the dark like that. I just didn’t want you to worry about me—“

“I do worry, Ladybug.”

Chat Noir says the words loudly, confidently, an open declaration. She gapes at him.

“I’m always worried about you,” he says; he turns his eyes skyward, as though desperate to look at anything that isn’t her. “I worry if you’re getting enough sleep. I worry if you’re stressed out. I worry that an akuma might come for you and that this time, there won’t be anyone to save you — that I won’t be there to save you.”

And now it’s his turn for his voice to break. Ladybug steps closer, takes his face in her hands. Turns it so that he’s looking at her.

“Have you considered,” he asks softly, “that maybe you don’t like to rely on people? That you don’t want to show weakness? That you’re too focused on thinking that you can do everything yourself?”

Mirroring her, he brings his hands up to her face. They’re interlinked, intertwined, impossible to tell where one stops and the other begins. If noir and blanc are two sides of the same coin, then so too are the ladybug and the black cat. 

“Maybe,” she admits, hating the way that doing so makes her feel vulnerable. But here, of all places — in her partner’s arms — maybe she can let herself be vulnerable. “Maybe you’re right.”

Chat Noir drops his hands, steps away from her. A stark contrast to his next words: “You know I’m always on your side, right? No matter what.”

“I know,” says Ladybug, because she does. She’d just forgotten it — but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Her hands fall to her sides. “And I think…I think I’ve found someone else on my side, too.”

Someone, something, somewhere, somehow. 

[sn0wgr4ve]

* DELTARUNE MAIN THEORIES (In order of probability? Maybe?)

1. BERDLY will be completely unimportant, and SNOWGRAVE will happen no matter what.

* this is simply due to the fact that snowgrave exists at all. toby fox has stated repeatedly that our choices don’t matter, and that the ending will stay the same. he’s also said that what happens within the story may be more important than the ending itself. both things combined and berdly’s arm being fried in a main route “ending” makes me believe that he’s simply gonna be killed off, whether we make noelle do it or if someone else does it for us

2. DELTARUNE is both a prequel and a sequel.

* i’m still not sure is prequel/sequel are the right words? deltarune definitely isn’t a direct beginning/sequel story to undertale. however, i firmly believe that it’s the prequel to sans and papyrus’s stories, both as brothers and as their own people.

* as for the “both” part, i believe that gaster took us and our/frisk’s soul from post-pacifist, and travelled us to the past, deltarune. i believe that his goal is not to harm others, but to help us create a better end for the deltarune universe and a better future for sans and papyrus. this one is very complicated, but it’s based off the fact that gaster was shattered across time and space, and that twitter! gaster said that he looks forward to “creating a new future” with us

3. KNIGHT PAPYRUS

* this is a HUUUGE theory, and i made multiple branches of it to cover every basis, both close to canon and far from it, so i’m gonna order them from how much i like them!!

— PAPYRUS stumbled into a dark world after GASTER’s passing (and thus, after his darkness related experiments), and was convinced by a fragment of GASTER to become THE KNIGHT for THE LIGHTENERS’s sakes.

* simply explained, undertale papyrus has a huge desperation to help everyone he can. i believe that especially after the passing of a likely loved one, papyrus would be easily manipulated into doing things to make others feel better

— PAPYRUS became THE KNIGHT in an attempt to cope with life through escapism, and to help THE LIGHTENERS escape their own issues as well.

* it’s clear that the main teen lighteners of deltarune have a ton of issues. kris and susie both have issues with their home lives, with toriel being semi-neglectful and kris being isolated from asgore due to toriel’s hatred of him, and with susie likely being homeless, or at the very least, very poor. noelle has a missing sister that could very well be dead, an ill father, and an extremely strict mother that she’s home alone with thanks to her dad being sick. berdly has major self esteem issues due to not being noticed much as a child until he won a spelling bee. due to how little we know about papyrus and his past, other than the fact that he was confirmed t be from the deltarune universe (green grass), i believe that papyrus could very well have used a power he found to create worlds of paradise for himself and the others.

— Either SANS, PAPYRUS, or both, are partially DARKENERS, and are using the threat of THE ROARING to find a way to exist in the LIGHT WORLD.

* this is a far fetched one, but it’s one i really enjoy. they both have major connections to darkeners already. sans is a lot like the spade family, he can teleport like rouxls and lancer, and papyrus says his room is like “another world”, which has a ton of darkness at the beginning. papyrus has major ties to jevil. not sure how to explain it other than that ralsei could very well be wrong about the roaring

— PAPYRUS being THE KNIGHT relates to GASTER’s experiments with darkness/DARK WORLDS.

* this one spiraled into a genuine theory due to a story i was writing about sans and papyrus for an rp. basically, as seen with kris, the creation of dark fountains is a disruption yet harmonization of light and dark. if sans is half lightener, and if papyrus is half darkener, then their similarities yet differences could prove as dark fountain symbolism

— PAPYRUS is GASTER, and he experimented with DARK WORLDS.

* papyrus has the most connections to gaster out of everyone, to the point of being referenced in one of two times his name is mentioned (smiling shred). most fun value events also happen in the two areas papyrus says he’s familiar with, snowdin and waterfall. he also shows a strange sadness when he sees the core in a phone call. i guess a tldr for this is that he made himself a villain, but decided to move on, fake his death, and try to forget he was ever “gaster”. papyrus seems obsessed with redemption, to the point where both snowdin xbox achievements reference a bible story about redemption, so this could be likely.

(i combined two theories into one)

3.5. SANS X JEVIL?

* i’m extremely biased towards this ship, but i can’t help but feel like that if knight papyrus is canon, sans and jevil will end up getting together due to how similar they are. extremely powerful, aware of everything being a game, nihilistic, comedians, round in body shape and head, an association with yellow… it makes sense i swear

[ilovemycrayons]

you smoke & I’ll have a drink [emily prentiss x reader]

Hey I sneezed. I’m currently in love with Emily Prentiss & It is quite sad the literal choke hold she has on me. But that’s not the point. Anyway, I slammed this together while sT0n3d as shit, per usual how I spend my nights & this is how i imagine being in a relationship with Emily where she is okay with her girlfriend smoking & loves it because it makes her girlfriend more honest & fun to play with. 

I don’t post what I write usually so I don’t know how to do warnings but if you’re not a fan of drinking or smoking w33d then this is kind of full of it. fingering, praise talk i think is in here, probably self esteem issues i wouldn’t put it past me. I don’t know I’m sorry i tried. Just be warned I guess. But if I missed any please let me know. also yes the grammar is probably piss poor & i think it is written in 2nd person or something i’m so sorry in advance.

Okay lastly, some background i wrote this imagining season 16 prentiss with season 12 Prentiss job if that makes a lick of sense. My brain has created this beautiful mix of silver fox prentiss as bau leader. So that’s what I did & that’s what this is. 

Everything was working out perfectly. It was Friday night, the new case they had picked up earlier in the week was finished and the suspect was in custody, and to celebrate it was girl’s night. You had heard all about it from Emily on her drive home, making your heart sing hearing the happy and relaxed tone in her voice. it was also warming to know she had managed to find some time to go out with her BAU girls especially after such a case from the little details you got from the news coverage & Emily. 

“i want you to come with us. i also know what you need to do to feel comfortable in a setting like that, if you want to smoke first i can pick you up in 30 minutes if that works for you.” 

the line was silent for a minute while you tried to collect your already high as a kite thoughts. “i- i don’t understand what you mean. i would never do something like that… like smoking.” it was so forced and such a lie anyone could have caught it. you had a suspicion that was one of her favorite things about you, the fact that you were such a bad liar. she must find entertainment in you always scrambling to find a good lie to bark out at her. 

“absolutely baby, not a little stoner at all. i will see you in 30 then.” you could picture the smile on her face and your stomach flipped just thinking about it. you hung up the phone and ran into your bathroom to get in the shower. 

you had no idea what it was that kept her so interested in you. she was the head of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, studying and catching some of the worst serial killers ever. smarter than anyone you have ever met, but you’ve heard rumors about Dr. Spencer Reid. you had a good job & made enough money where you were able to afford an apartment comfortably by yourself, but exactly as she said, you were a smoker. you only smoked at night mostly to go to sleep & relax and when you went out you chose to be high rather than drink. after your shower you dried off, did your hair and makeup, before throwing on a big tshirt to wait until Emily was close to picking you up. you had fifteen minutes left before she would be at your door. turning on something on your tv you smoked until you got the text from emily that she was on her way. you ran back into your room and picked out your favorite dress that was short at the perfect length and showed off your chest quite nicely. 

in perfect synchronization with putting your lipstick away in your bag for the night, the doorbell rang. you took a last look in the mirror you had by the door and opened it to reveal a smiling emily. she was still in her work suit but it complimented her so well and she knew you loved it when she wore them. lately, emily had been letting her hair grow out and the beautiful gray show more which was making you weaker in the knees each time you saw her and sending you through the roof. it took you too long to realize you were admiring her until you looked up at her and saw the look on her face. “h-hello.” you finally squeaked out. 

“hi little bird, you look very pretty.” she smiled scanning your figure, her eyes following your curves leaving a small smirk on her face. “are you ready to go?” 

“yes,” you smiled and put your bag on your shoulder and took your jacket off the hook. you closed & locked the door behind you then followed emily down to her car. the rest of the night was filled with high energy & great drinks. you had met penelope & jj before at a night out with the team but never this intimate. you relaxed through the night as they asked questions to get to know you better and you all made jokes about some of the guys that tried to come up to the table. 

after a few hours you all said goodbye and you were soon back in emily’s car heading back to your apartment. “i’m glad you came out with us,” she smiled and placed her hand on your thigh. “did you have a good time?” 

feeling her hand on your thigh your back was now flush against the car seat. “i had a lot of fun. it was nice to meet JJ & Penelope outside of the group, they are so nice.” you quickly glance down at Emily’s hand that seemed to be a little further up on your thigh than before, but you both knew you weren’t complaining. the drive back to your apartment was a comfortable silence until emily parked and turned to you and smiled. 

“thank you for a wonderful night. would you like to come up for another drink before you go?” you you look up and can’t help but smile when she turns the car off and grabs her bag from the back seat.

 “i would love to.” she smiled and kissed your cheek before getting out of the car. as you walked up to the door you got your keys out and led her inside. you were happy to see your apartment was clean enough for a guest. you walked to the little bar in the corner of your kitchen and made emily a quick rum & coke which had been her drink of choice for the night. “thank you baby,” she smiled and took a sip. “will you be smoking i assume?” emily smiled and walked through the apartment looking out the back slider to the deck, smiling at the rolling tray on the table. 

“oh, uhm if you don’t mind sure. we can sit outside, it’s my favorite spot in the whole apartment.” you smiled and walked out with her. you had spent so much time making a small corner of the patio to be a perfect smoking corner. you sat in your usual spot while Emily sat right next to you and sipped her drink, answering some messages on her phone. you got to work making a little joint, picking out the perfect nug, fitting it into the grinder just right, and you definitely enjoyed hearing the sound of the weed being grinded, knowing that a beautiful pile would be waiting for you in the middle chamber. After you were done, you pulled out what you needed to roll. you pulled out her new favorite lighter -of-the-week and lit the joint. 

Everyone knows the best hit is the first, and this one did not disappoint. you felt all of the muscles in your body (except your lungs) completely relax and tensions were all gone. Instinctively you pulled out your phone and opened your favorite app and began scrolling while continuing to smoke. It was amazing to you that Emily didn’t always need you to entertain her. you two were completely comfortable just being with each other, whether you were talking or playing around, or just being in the same room together without saying a word. This was the perfect time to just sit and enjoy each other’s company while Emily sipped her drink and you smoked your perfectly rolled little joint.

After some time had passed, you put the remains in your ashtray and sat back in your seat. “That felt amazing.” you giggled as you felt the slow buzz go through your body. “This is my favorite flower I’ve gotten so far.”

“i hope you will be able to get it again,” Emily said in a soft voice while picking up her hand and bringing it to her lips to kiss the back. “Why don’t you come over to the couch with me,” she smiled. “I feel like it has been forever since we actually sat together.” she stood up and gently pulled you up with her before getting as comfortable as she could on the outside bench. Luckily it was padded, but it didn’t add much. It also didn’t help that she pulled you down onto her lap. she wrapped one hand around your waist and the other on your legs keeping you close to her. “Now this is more comfortable.” she chuckled.

“Think so? I’m definitely comfy.” you smiled and nuzzled into her chest. you stayed still while she held you, leaning her cheek against the top of your head and rocking you both very gently which soothes you a little too well.

Emily pulled back and smiled at you. “I think you deserve another. You’ve been so supportive this week,” her voice was soft and low, sending chills through your whole body. Emily definitely noticed as she put her hand on your cheek and you nearly melted against her. “If anything, baby, do it for me.”

Carefully, you got down off her lap and set yourself up between her legs facing the table. Surprisingly, it was more comfortable than you thought. you started the same process again, but was distracted when you felt Emily’s lips against your neck. The jar that held your flower was put back down on the table and you leaned back against Emily’s chest.

“Bird what happened? Can you not concentrate?” she leaned you up and pulled the table closer. “Maybe you can’t reach, maybe this will help. ”

you picked everything up again, starting where you left off. It wasn’t long into your process until Emily started again. A slow trail of kisses on all sides of your neck, this time accompanied by some traveling hands. All on your sides, trailing down to your thighs and back up again to your chest (which you were grateful for the fact you chose against any kind of bra.) you playfully pushed her off so you could stand up to reach the roller on the other side of the table.

When you did, your panties were pulled to the floor, leaving you completely exposed under the skirt of your dress. you turned around to Emily laughing. “Really? Are we children?” you reached down to pull your panties back up but was stopped when Emily grabbed your waist.

“I thought you would be more comfortable this way.” she  smirked and pulled you back down onto the couch with her. Emily’s lips were back on your neck and her hands lying comfortably on your thighs. “Anyway, continue.” she hummed. Emily slowly trailed her hand up your body from your thigh and up to your chest and softly began to massage your breast, while placing light kisses along your shoulder and back up again. Her other land lightly glided up your thigh, getting closer to where you wanted her to be. 

Emily’s hand on your chest slowly got more aggressive, grabbing more man massaging and mixing between teasing and pinching your nipple that was now between her fingers easily slipped under the top of your dress. The hand that was on your thigh was now drawing light circles against your clit, slowly leaving you a shaking mess against her. 

“Oh fuck Emily, I’m so close.” you finally whined out. Her lips were on all of your sweet spots along your neck and shoulder, her hand on your breast twisting and pulling at your nipple, and her fingers moving in a faster circle while your climax was rushing over. 

“Cum for me baby.” she hummed and kept her pace helping you through your climax. “Good job baby, you did so good.” she hummed and held you when collapsed back against her, breathing heavily trying to collect yourself. “I think you deserve that second joint now.” emily laughed lightly and kissed your cheek. 

You laughed and sat back up again finishing what you started. You set everything up and looked around the table for your book of papers, only to realize they were on the other side of the table. “Shit,” you mumbled. “My papers are on the other side of the table.”

“So then get them.” Emily smirked looking up from the message she was answering on her phone.

You gave Emily a suspicious look but decided to trust her. You hesitated another second before standing up and reaching over the table for the papers. When they were in your hand, just as you predicted, you felt two of her fingers slide inside you. “Oh fuck!” you screamed but quickly bit your lip once you were reminded you were outside.

Emily laughed with a teasing tone and slipped his fingers out before pulling you back down on the couch. “Oh birdie, so wet for me already. Are you finished rolling yet?”

“I just have to add uhm, the paper. So one more step.`` As you explained, you completed each step and were finally greeted by a beautifully rolled joint. You picked it up and held it in front of your face. “Perfection.”

Emily handed you a lighter which you happily took and lit the joint in your fingers. You enjoyed the first few hits before Emily took your body and turned you towards her to kiss her. Emily’s hands traveled again and her tongue started exploring your lips, teasing against you. She broke the kiss turning to face you forward before scooping you up and sitting you on the couch while she got comfortable next to you. Emily placed her hand on your cheek slowly down your body until it was between your legs again and sliding her fingers over your entrance knowing it was teasing you more than ever now. “Don’t forget about your joint.” 

“Please?” you whined and leaned your head back taking a hit and blowing it out. “Please.”

Emily slipped two fingers in and waited for you to adjust and get comfortable. Instinctively, you started grinding against her hand, causing emily to smirk. “Oh fuck Emily.” you moaned.

She wrapped her other arm around you and slipped the strap of your dress down, exposing your breast, giving her more room to go back to playing with your nipple as she did before. “Look at you baby, you look so perfect for me, grinding against my hand, you’re so wet for me too. Are you enjoying yourself bird?”

Hearing all of her words of praise, and nursing the joint you made sent sparks through you helping you keep a steady pace of your hips. You bit your lip harder as your climax built, holding on to the arm and back of the couch for support. “It feels so good Emily. I’m gonna cum again, I’m so close.” 

Emily chuckled playfully and leaned down to take your nipple between her teeth, giving a soft bite and softly kissing as an apology. “Cum for me birdie, now.” she barked and leaned back, enjoying the moment. On command, another and stronger wave washed over your body and after what felt like an eternity, you finally collapsed next to Emily, who brought you into her side, but careful of the blunt that was almost finished. On the last hit you took before you exhaled, emily softly put her hand on your neck giving it a small squeeze as you exhaled before she kissed you again. 

A little surprised by her actions you ended up with a little bit of a coughing fit but got it under control quickly. “Wh-what was that? I’m not complaining, I’m just asking.” she took the finished joint from your fingers and put it out in the ashtray before sitting back on the couch with you.

“Oh baby, I’m full of surprises. You’ll just have to wait and see.” Emily smiled as she curled you up in her arms close to her chest and lightly rubbed your shoulders and back. “I love you.” she whispered.

~~~~

Anyway, I told you it was kind of a mess but i had to get the idea out. Let me know what you think of this one please. Again, i know the grammar and spelling and everything isn’t good i told you i tried my best & just worked on getting the idea on paper & if you might be interested in another work in progress that i can rewrite to prentiss. 

taglist because they interacted with the post from earlier : 

@darcyfangirlsfrequently​ @strawberry-miku​ @natasharomanoffisbaebby​ @kennedy-alexis​ @evilregal2002​ @ssalinaprentiss​ 

[katieamnesiaandrews]

Title: How hard I have fallen

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Horizon (Video Game)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Aloy/Erend

Additional Tags: coming in hot with the angst on the first day kiddies, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Unrequited Love, not actually unrequited but Erend is a dumbass, also welcome to my feral animal aloy agenda, pain play, Self-Esteem Issues, sad but horny, no beta we die like pussyboy Helis

Summary:

Ereloy week 2024: Tactile/"Sometimes it scares me"/Under colorful lights Aloy jumps down from the ramparts and rolls, tawny as a fox, sleek as any machine, and rises to her feet. Her eyes are on you, the color a terrible, frothing sea, like the last thing a man sees before drowning. "Erend," she says, throat raspy from the quiet she has faithfully kept for the last half hour. "I told you to wait." You don't think she notices it, as she approaches, the way the Vanguard falls back. But you do. You feel the way they tense behind you, weapons raised, as if she is a threat. They're not thinking that, you know, but their battle-worn bodies are telling them, bold as a bronze bell, this is a predator.

[firstprince-ao3feed]

did the light hit my blush (when i told you you could be enough?)

by matherine Henry wasn’t eavesdropping. Really, he wasn’t — he had just come home from work at the shelter early, toed off his shoes at the door, and began to settle in when he heard it. “No, Nora,” Alex’s voice groans, floating out into the hall from where his bedroom door must be cracked open. “I can’t tell if he’s just not interested or oblivious. I’ve used my whole arsenal of flirting and Henry’s completely unresponsive.” Or: Alex has been flirting for months. It’s not that Henry didn’t notice — it’s that he thought he couldn’t possibly mean it. Words: 1471, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Getting Together, Self-Esteem Issues, First Kiss, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Needs a Hug via https://ift.tt/sZG2zQm

[mformarsala]

Random hc I acquired regarding SW

Clones speak Mando'a.

Cody's name is Kote. He was named by Jango on Kamino.

Cody is well-known and well-liked by almost everyone.

Cody was sexually assaulted.

Cody is good at math.

Obi-Wan is really bad at math.

Obi-Wan and Cody sing duet sometimes. There are 212th karaoke nights.

Command batch goes: Cody, Fox, Ponds, Bly, Wolffe, (Rex).

Rex was meant to be part of the command batch but he was demoted because of his hair color.

Rex was part of the 212th when Anakin was a padawan. When Anakin was knighted he clang to Rex and refused to have anyone else as his second in command.

Rex dies his eyebrows black.

Rex is named Rex because he is crowned with his golden hair.

Ponds is named Ponds because of his cautious nature and tendency to philosophy (pondering)

Wolffe is named Wolffe because he thinks wolves are really cool.

Fox is named Fox because he is graying at the temples silver fox)

Bly is named Bly after a character in his favorite romance novel.

Gree is a Nerd. He and Luminara have museum dates.

Bly and Aayla are married.

Waxer and Boil are riduure.

Decommissioning.

Clones were raised on nutrimush and rations that are very bland. Generally, they love real food but it takes everyone some time to adapt their palettes. Some clones still prefer nutrimush.

Wolffe, Boost and Sinker are Plo Koon's sons.

Jedi would have a problem with Anakin's marriage to Padme as it contradicts his vows to the order.

CT-1111 and such is actually a shorthand for a much longer designation number each clone has. Kaminoans thought it was an efficient way to address the clones without giving them individuality.

Obi-Wan is biromantic and on the ace spectrum.

Anakin wanted Obi-Wan to be his father figure. Obi-Wan could only be a brother.

Obi-Wan has creeping self-esteem issues.

Qui-Gon Jin A+ parenting.

Count Dooku actually really likes his Grand Padawan.

Corries are abused by some senators.

Fox is severely sleep-deprived and has a person working in customer service energy.

New Mandalorians rejected many traditions among them the tradition of adoption and that anyone can be a Mandalorian if they swear Resol'nare. That's why they are mostly human and blond.

High General is in charge of a System Army that consists of two Sector Armies and has two attached fleets; in times of war the Jedi High Council consists of High Generals. Obi-Wan was promoted to the council due to his prior war experience on Melida/Daan.

Each battalion has ARCs and Commandos attached.

Gregor is head of 212th's commandos.

Jedi are not getting paid for their participation in war efforts.

Due to the nature of their upbringing Jedi's and clones' reference points of normal are very far from the galaxy baseline. Surprisingly they are well positioned to understand each other though.

Clones tend to call children tubies and teenagers cadets.

Clones love water and rain.

Clones tend to think natural pregnancies are extremely weird (why would you put this process into someone's body if there is a perfectly good tube right here.).

Clones are made for Jedi but the Jedi are also made for clones.

Propaganda machine sold the clone troopers as protectors and saviors to the population of the republic and they are widely loved.

That being said clones are not legally recognized as sentients.

During their training on Kamino clones wanted war to come because they regarded it as freedom.

Cody calls Jango a rough draft

Wolffe and admiral Yularen are friends.

[space-writes]

vivien 13 and 21, vizeath 7 and 22!

HI FOX! you asked about the perfect duo of Fucked Up Little Guys <3

(send me asks and make my OCs suffer)

What's their relationship to their body? Self esteem? Self image?

Vivien is Not Doing Great with that and you know it :p

His self image is very fucked up, because a) dysphoria and b) the more physical changes HRT gives him, the more he thinks he looks like his brother, and that does appalling things to his sense of identity. I don’t think he really has a self image that’s him—except of course when he’s with Rainier, when he actually feels like a person outside of all of his issues.

Self esteem-wise, he might be confident (stupid) enough to stalk a guy online and break into his office, but in the real world? He can’t fucking talk to people. He doesn’t understand how, and so he just sees himself as completely inept. He doesn’t think he’s worth anything. Which is part of why it’s so easy for Rainier to get him to do whatever he wants. (don’t outsource your self worth to a self-absorbed egotist, kids)

What's their relationship to sex? Modesty?

Complicated. I’m still debating whether he’s had much sexual experience between [redacted] and getting with Rainier, but honestly I’m leaning towards ‘not much’ because he just has. So many issues with his body that it makes being sexual hard. This is compounded by the fact that he is relentlessly horny. Boy wants to fuck, unfortunately for boy, he can’t stand to look at himself naked let alone let other people see and touch him that way.

His modesty is entirely tied up in ‘i don’t want to remember i even have a body’. He doesn’t dare to expose himself because of how other people will see him.

What's their pain tolerance?

Vizaeth can take a frankly unnerving amount of pain. You can make him scream but he’s the type to grab your wrist and shove the knife deeper. Hurt makes him feel real and alive. Especially if it’s Pharaun dishing it out.

He’ll power through pain if he’s angry as well. He’s done it in a few fics (when Viconia broke his nose, and when people were clawing at him when he was trying to stop Merdax harassing Veryan, for two)—he knows and understands pain intimately.

Do they enjoy the taste of blood?

Entirely too much.

claws taglist: @belovedviolence @foxboyclit @coven-archives @noblebs @mjjune @revenantlore @sarandipitywrites @k--havok @asterhaze @verba-writing @indecentpause @bootstrapparadoxed (ask to be +/-)

[littlemisspascal]

Rockford & Roan Pt. 8

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC ‘Roan’

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: The idea of it, of this outing being classified as something more than just two roommates getting breakfast, isn’t entirely unappealing to ponder. There’s actually a tiny bit of a thrill unfurling in your stomach.

Rating: T. Heed the warnings y'all!

Warnings: Language, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding, crime-solving, Princess Bride reference

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford. Reader is mentioned to have hair

Author Note: Thank you always for the kind support💗

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Series Masterlist

The Breakfast

Rockford slips into the kitchen the next morning while you’re preparing Banjo’s food. The little mutt barely turns his head to acknowledge the man, his hunger outweighing his love of ear scritches. Your roommate’s freshly showered, curls fluffed up and slightly damp, wearing a casual waistcoat over his white button up and a pair of dark pants. He looks like a college professor, you think, setting the pet bowl on the floor for Banjo to dig into with relish. All Rockford needs are some elbow patches and he’d fit right in amongst the Ivy League elites.

He’d left last night shortly after you’d retired to bed. Like usual he didn’t stop to tell you his midnight plans, and also like usual his absence dwindled in your thoughts right up until sleep washed over you. Where does he go? What does he do? If only you could take a magnifying glass to the entire city, look for a trail or clues to follow. Knowing Rockford though, he’s too smart to leave traces behind. No, he can be a mere shadow of a human just like his brother.

“There’s a nice breakfast spot about a five minute walk from here.”

With your head half inside the fridge staring at a near-expired carton of milk, it takes a beat for you to realize the comment was directed at you. You shut the fridge door, turning to find Rockford staring at you expectantly. 

“Isn’t Inspector Dorrance coming over to pick up the suitcase?” you ask, although you have to admit, the idea of a stack of pancakes drowning in syrup sounds extremely appetizing to your empty stomach.

“Keziah may have been able to successfully substitute cigarettes with candy, but nothing on earth will ever replace his love of coffee.” Rockford sounds more amused than annoyed at the fact.“It’ll be several cups before his soonest convenience delivers him to our doorstep.”

“Well, in that case,” a grin grows on your face, “breakfast sounds wonderful.”

Stacked and Served is a bustling hive of activity when you and Rockford arrive, full of tasty smells and Fox Leap citizens eagerly tucking into their food. If dogs had been allowed, Banjo would’ve levitated off the floor due to the speed of his wagging tail. You’ll have to make it up to him when you return home with lots of belly rubs.

The interior is earthy colors, complementing shades of blues and browns, with a wooden bar lined with stools of happy customers chatting and dining. Throughout the restaurant are oversized, yet cozy-looking chairs arranged around tables, all occupied except for one marked with a reserved sign. It’s positioned next to the front window looking out at the busy city street, all walks of life beginning their days, some strolling along the sidewalks while others shout for cabs. 

Before matching with Rockford, you tended to avoid crowded places like this. All these people, all their shades of emotions, would have brought down an avalanche upon your empathy, overwhelming and suffocating. With the stability of the bond to rely on, their feelings are still detectable along the edges of your mind-gift, but no longer sharp and grating. Muffled like you’ve put on headphones. Ignorable white noise unless you choose to tune in.

Rockford makes a deadline for the reserved table immediately, gesturing for you to take the window seat before he claims the lone dark blue chair for himself. You slowly sit down, eyes flicking between your match and the sign, wondering if he’s going to acknowledge it, when a man in a flour-stained apron and marked with at least a dozen tattoos in thick black lines along his forearms steps up beside the table with a warm, delighted grin.

“Rocky,” he greets, voice deep as a canyon and booming over the encompassing chatter. The two men shake hands, clearly familiar with one another, and then you’re being given a menu that had been tucked under the man’s arm. “And you must be Roanie, yeah? Keziah said you were pretty, but seriously you’re way too gorgeous for this asshole. Do me a favor and let me know if you ever catch Kez with a smoke, alright? He’s a sneaky bastard when he wants to be and usually I’d find that hot as hell, but nothing’s attractive about cancer sticks. I’ll staple ‘em to his balls if he ever touches those damn things again.”

You blink. Once. Twice. “Um.”

The man stares back at you for a moment, blue eyes taking in your awkwardness. Then he slowly turns to Rockford, lips pursing into an unimpressed line. “You didn’t tell her who I am, did you.”

There’s no inflection in his voice. Definitely no question mark at the end.

“Even if I had, it wouldn’t change the fact you have a habit of running your mouth and making terrible first impressions,” Rockford replies, but his gaze is focused outside the cafe, sweeping the streets in search of something.

He earns a well-aimed slap to the back of his head as a result. You wince in sympathy, feeling the sharp pop of pain in sync with your match who rubs at the spot tenderly.

“Lest you forget, Rocky, I’m the one who makes your food here. Don’t tempt me to spit–” 

“So,” you pipe up, fumbling for a quick way to diffuse some of the brewing tension before it gives you a headache. “How long have you worked here…um.” It belatedly occurs to you that you’ve still yet to learn his name.

The tattooed-man takes mercy on you and offers a beaming smile just as warm as the one he’d initially approached with. Must’ve mastered it working in the food industry, you reckon. Or maybe warm and sunny is his natural temperament.

“Elio. And I’ve owned the place for…” he idly scratches the underside of his jaw, and there’s another flour stain there on the tendon of his neck, “oh just about three years now almost. It became mine after dear old Rocky here helped me prove to the police my old boss was skimming the cash register. Our paths should’ve split after that except then he went and introduced me to the love of my life.” His smile changes at the corners. Softens. A feeling sugary sweet and wispy flutters above your empathy, and you don’t need to bring it into focus to know it’s love.

“Introduce is a strong word,” Rockford interjects wryly. “As I recall, you saw him across the room and immediately lit up like a glow stick. I was then forced to explain to Kez you weren’t a criminal trying to escape incarceration by blinding the entire force.”

“Still ended up in handcuffs later that night.” Elio winks, but it’s the teasing, faint pulse of glowing skin that surprises you more. Reminds you of fireflies you used to see in fields back in your hometown. 

“On that appetizing note,” Rockford grimaces, but there’s nothing but amusement coloring his mood, “think you could whip us up two stacks of your specialty pancakes? It’s Roan’s first time here.”

“Oh, a first timer! My favorite kind of customer!” Elio presses a hand to his chest, looking absolutely thrilled at the news. He steals the unread menu back from your hand quicker than you can process. “Leave the food to me. And I’ll see if I can find a candle or something for the table–make this date a little more romantic.”

All you can do is sputter at that, choking on your own spit as the man scurries away.

Date? 

This isn’t–

You didn’t think–

No. No way. You fiddle with the silverware, thoughts spinning, unable to bring yourself to look at your match quite yet. A quick check of Rockford’s mood reveals he’s unruffled by the remark, not even the faintest blip resembling the line of exclamation marks running through your head. Does that mean you’re overreacting? Underreacting? 

If this really was a date, you would like to think you’d know that with absolute, 100% certainty. Surely you’re not that oblivious, or so you tell yourself, at least. So, with that in mind, Elio was mistaken with his labeling. This is definitely not a date. 

Still. The idea of it, of this outing being classified as something more than just two roommates getting breakfast, isn’t entirely unappealing to ponder. There’s actually a tiny bit of a thrill unfurling in your stomach.

Or that could just be hunger pangs.

Definitely plausible.and a lot less complicated to analyze.

You give your head a little shake, finally summoning the nerve to glance at Rockford. Except, low and behold, he’s looking out the window. Again. Not out of avoidance of your attention, no, you can tell by the roaming of his eyes taking note of every passing figure he’s keenly searching for something out there he wants to find real bad. 

Your patience runs out five minutes later after another waiter has dropped off a pot of coffee and a glass bottle of water for the table.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, pouring yourself a drink and taking a sip.

“We know now our killer abducts his villains,” Rockford answers without preamble. “He drives them to secluded, private spots where they swallow the cyanide. But there’s been no reports of abductions, no witnesses of suspicious behavior, which suggests the victims go with him willingly. They don’t put up a fight.”

“Maybe he’s got a weapon?” you suggest, resting your chin on your knuckles. “Tells them if they scream he’ll shoot?”

“Perhaps,” is his preoccupied mumble, still looking outside, lost in his head. 

Outside, the street is still full of commotion. A gray-headed businessman carries his briefcase in one hand and the morning paper in the other. Farther down the way, a pair of women point at something in one of the antique shop windows. Everybody’s got places to be, things to do. Oblivious to the dangerous predator skulking about.

Goosebumps rise up along your arms, like ice has found a way under your skin, imagining the killer out there right now. Hidden in plain sight, watching the goings-on. Hunting their next victim.

The pot of coffee goes cold. Untouched.

The Reason

Elio’s whistling when he brings the pancake stacks to the table. They’re golden, fluffy, and fucking huge, almost as round as the whole plate with a fat square of butter on top. He brings a candle with him too, which you studiously ignore, focusing instead on cutting off a small bite with your fork and dipping it in a cup of syrup.

“Ohmygod,” you utter around your mouthful, manners forgotten in the wake of tasting pure deliciousness. Elio looks very pleased with him, puffing out his chest as you all but inhale another bite. “It’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” Elio says, eyes crinkling. “Wanna know the secret ingredient? Self-confidence in oneself.”

“More like an extra helping of cinnamon sprinkled in,” Rockford says, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Oh hush!” Elio swats at his arm without heat, clearly holding back a chuckle. “Enjoy the food guys. On the house.”

You spare a moment to swallow and thank him properly before he leaves. These pancakes really just might be the best thing you’ve ever eaten in your whole life, your mother’s famous triple chocolate cake officially bumped to second place.

Your fork scrapes against the plate as you cut off another bite-sized piece to soak in the syrup. Tastes like rich maple on your tongue, a faint hint of vanilla when you lick your lips. You glance at Rockford, wondering if he’s going to ignore the food the same as he did the coffee, but you watch as the man rolls up one of the pancakes like one would a poster or a rug, delicate and precise. Three bites, that’s all it takes. Three bites to devour the entire fucking thing without even a single drop of syrup. 

“Something on your mind, Roan?” he wonders, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. 

Blinking out of your mildly horrified daze, you start to shake your head no, but stop yourself. Truth is there is something on your mind. And it’s not the efficient way he consumes pancakes or where in the city the killer will strike next. 

“You don’t sleep at home.” It feels a little strange (and a little scary), to voice the concern that’s been a thorn ingrained in your thoughts since the first week you moved to 445D Albatross Lane. Hard to say if it was the change of scenery or good food that gave you the needed boost of confidence to finally bring it up. Perhaps it was both.

Rockford frowns, initial surprise shifting into a narrow-eyed wariness. There’s a change in his posture too, a subtle straightening of his spine you only notice because you’re watching him intently. “You noticed that, huh?”

“It’s kind of hard not to,” you admit with a small shrug. “I feel the absence of your emotions when you leave at night. You also don’t ever nap around the apartment either.”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while.” It’s an observation, not a question.

“Yes,” you answer slowly, uncomfortably aware of the sudden sensation of walking on thin-ice. “I’ve been worried. Thought maybe…” You bite the inside of your cheek, warring with yourself over how much to reveal, but you’ve already come this far might as well take it to the finish line, “I thought maybe you didn’t trust me enough to fall asleep when I’m nearby.”

God, it sounds so stupid said out loud, doesn’t it?

Sure enough, Rockford is as blunt as ever when he confirms, “That’s total bullshit. We share a home, Roan. Of course I trust you.”

“Then where do you go at night?” You look at him, trying to understand if it’s not about trust then what is it about? “Do you have a secret girlfriend I don’t know about?”

That earns you a sharp bark of laughter, head thrown back and dimples out in full force. “A girlfriend? No. Not really my area.”

Oh.

A short pause follows, reassembling your thoughts.

“Okay,” you say, chewing your bottom lip. “So, do you have a secret boyfriend then?”

Rockford arches an eyebrow, and it’s deliberate, you can tell it is, the way he nudges your empathy. Judgy and bemused all at once.

“It’s totally fine if you do.” You hold up your hands, fork aimed at the ceiling, a defensive gesture that has Rockford’s other eyebrow rising to join the other, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“I know it’s fine.”

“So you do have a boyfriend then?”

“No, Roan.” He shakes his head, a low grumble. “I don’t have anybody. Not looking for anybody either. Relationships like that, they’re a distraction to my work.”

That settles it then, you realize with a faint sinking feeling. Definitely not a date.

“But what about when the work’s over?” you ask softly.

“The work’s never over.”

You frown, something awfully painful pinching in the center of your chest when his emotions don’t waver. He honestly believes that notion, as true a fact as water is wet. “Alright,” you murmur, reluctantly deciding not to push the subject further. “Explain it to me, please. Why don’t you sleep at home?” 

“Because I can’t,” is Rockford’s succinct response doing absolutely nothing to clear up your confusion. “My gift won’t let me.”

Your fork slips from your fingers with a clatter, tongue tripping over words, “Wh-what? How does that even–? People die if they don’t sleep.”

He wags a finger in the air. “That’s actually incredibly rare–”

“Rockford.”

“My brain is in a constant state of perception, absorbing information from my senses and my environment,” your match tries to explain, his eyes settling on the coffee pot with a disgruntled glare like it’s personally offensive. “I can’t fall asleep like a regular person. Getting the rest I need requires locking myself in a sensory deprivation tank. There’s a health center with one not far from our apartment. I've been going there for years.”

“That’s where you go every night?” you ask, eyes widening in surprise.

Rockford toys with his napkin, avoiding your gaze. “No. Not always,” he admits, sheepishness creeping into his voice, clouding his aura. “I really do have chronic insomnia, that wasn’t a lie. Sometimes I go to the police station, point out the flaws in their filing system. Or during exam period, I spend the night at Rosasharn’s when she’s up to her eyeballs grading papers to keep her company. Usually though I set myself up at one of the dozens of twenty-four hour cafes in the city with my laptop or a good book and hang out until sunrise.”

“You…” You blink at him, completely thrown for a loop. “Seriously, you'd rather spend the night at a twenty-four hour cafe than your own home? Good lord, Rockford, why?”

“You deserve to sleep peacefully, Roan. And you can't do that with my emotions keeping you awake,” he answers. His voice is soft, yet the words slice through you all the same, boring straight into your heart.

The reason for his leaving is the same reason Rockford had separated himself from you at the crime scene. Your empathy is deeply attuned to the ebbs and flows of his emotions, the bond growing stronger with each day he allows you full, unhindered access to his mind. Dozing for a half hour on the couch in his presence is one thing, when the afternoon sunlight’s bathing the living room in streaks of gold and your empathy keeps watch. Operating on its own battery. A side effect of spending too much time behind enemy lines.

Nights are different. The battery must recharge, weary from the day’s strain of processing, filtering, blocking on loop, or else risk incurring migraines. But in the darkness, the thin line between dream and reality becomes blurred, sometimes indistinguishably so. In the service, surrounded by fellow soldiers witnessing the same horror and traumas, nightmares were commonplace. Creeping out of their mindscapes into your own, twisted horror scenes absorbed by your psyche as if it were a sponge soaking up water.

Worse were the nights your nightmares unintentionally became theirs. 

You had tried to contain your empathy on nights where there was blood in your hair, under your nails, hell, you could taste it on your teeth. Chain your mind-gift up in a corner same as a mad dog. Dr. Odair hadn’t been pleased when you told her, dropping her perfect mask of poise and professionalism to level you with a look. She told you tactics like that caused unseen damage, a tipped over domino in the chain reaction leading to the necessity of matching to prevent your own self-destruction.

Shutting off your empathy isn’t a healthy solution, and neither is Rockford blocking you from feeling his emotions. Yesterday’s misunderstanding proved how much you both rely on the bond’s stability. To cut it off night after night…it feels dangerous even contemplating it, heart lodged in your throat.

Doesn’t come close to the guilt pressing down on your rib cage though, threatening to crush you from the inside out. Rockford’s been putting your needs first, uncaring that doing so means being driven out of his own home. And he’s been doing it every night all because of your specific mind-gift.

“It’s ok,” Rockford says, a steadiness to his voice you’re envious of, and he reaches out his hand across the table towards your own. You don’t know if it’s his perception that tells him you’ll shatter under his gentle touch or if you’re subconsciously broadcasting your tumult, but either way something makes him stop before he makes contact. “I don’t mind. Honestly.”

There’s something magnetic about the mere centimeters of space separating your fingertips from his, unable to tear away your stare. “You should,” your voice miraculously doesn’t tremble like a leaf, “it isn’t fair.”

All Rockford has to reply to that is, “Life isn’t fair, Roan. It’s just fairer than death, that’s all.”

For a second time you feel his unwavering belief in his own words. And you could leave it be, let the moment pass. Nothing changes if nothing changes, your mother used to always say. 

Rockford starts to pull back his hand, only for you to latch onto his wrist. Your grip isn’t tight, you both know he can easily slip free if he wants to.  

You both know he doesn’t.

“I’ll find a way.”

He blinks, the slightest tilt of his head.

“I’ll find a way so you can stay,” you vow. "Everything will work out one way or another."

And Rockford smiles, lopsided and dimpled, warmth pressing against your empathy expressing more gratitude than speaking out loud could ever manage. 

“Better finish your breakfast,” he says, returning to the art of pancake rolling, ignoring the disturbed wrinkling of your nose at him. “You’ll break Elio’s heart if you don’t clean your plate.”

[achaotichuman]

A Court of Song and Desolation

Chapter 22 for a Court of Song and Desolation is now out!

Summary-

She had eyes like starlight and a grin that could outshine the moon, "We'll rule the world."

"What if we fail?"

"Then we'll burn it all down."

In hindsight maybe it could only have ever ended like this. Making a man who was never made to rule, High lord. This was all inevitable.

The Spring Court was now as broken as its Ruler, everything had been turned to ruin. Tamlin lives with the ghostly memories that haunt the forgotten manor and has no intentions of changing that.

Too bad Lucien can't stand the idea of leaving him alone, and too damn bad Prythian's Fox now has two new friends ready and willing to help in any way they can.

*Previously titled Get out while you still can! (Please don't leave me)*

*Alternative Summary- Magic dumbasses obliviously pining for each other try to save the world.

Fandom- A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J.Maas

Chapters- 22/71

Rating- Explicit

Archive Warnings- Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Categories- M/M, F/M, Multi, F/F

Relationships- Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra, Past Tamlin/Feyre Archeron, Past Lucien Vanserra/Jesminda, Azriel/Eris Vanserra, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian, Tamlin & Lucien Vanserra, Tamlin & Eris Vanserra

Characters- Tamlin (A Court of Thorns and Roses, Lucien Vanserra, Original Female Characters, Jurian (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Vassa (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Andras (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Original Male Characters, Elain Archeron, Eris Vanserra, Azriel (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Death-God Kosechi, Morrigan (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Cassian (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Nesta Archeron, Tarquin (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Tamlin's Brothers (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Amren (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Feyre Archeron, Rhysand (A Court of Thorns and Roses)

Additional Tags- Tamlin Redemption (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Depression, Eating Disorders, Slow Burn, Justice for the Hewn City, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Secret Relationships, Mating Bonds, shape-shifting magic, Flashbacks, Self-Harm, Found Family, Abandonment Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Grief/Mourning, Day Court magic, Bisexual Elain Archeron, bisexual Tamlin, Forced Marriage, Welcome to Tamlin's Bisexual Panic, Exploration of Spring Court Magic, anger issues, repressed trauma, Panic Attacks, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Pining, Mutual Pining, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Demisexuality, Overthinking, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sexual Abuse, Eventual Smut, Torture, More Hurt before Healing, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Elain Archeron being the best, Blood and Gore, Horror, Rebellion, Body Horror

Series- Part One of A Court of Outcasts, Thieves and Assassins