#he'd feel a bit out of his element not having to be in 'protect himself and dog at all costs' mode.

[caracello]

i think dog and lily would get along so well. dog is always starving, and lily's 'grandma that will NOT let you leave hungry' instinct would kick in immediately. for god, i think he'd get along with marcus the most... marcus is kind and fair, and i think he'd enjoy being able to talk in depth with someone about. anything. by that same virtue, i think god would like doc henry even if he is a bit callous.

[oceantornadoo]

IDK! HEAR ME OUT THO!!!

Simon, staging the break in and what not so he could push you back into his arms??? INSANE!

Delicious story. Thank you for the food! <3

so originally when i made that last fic (which unexpectedly blew up tysm everyone) i added in the creepy elements almost on accident?? but this and another reply has me thinking...

tw: slight humiliation (but you'll like it)=

simon riley wasn't a bad man. he also wasn't a bad husband. at least that's what he told himself.

when you had presented him with those divorce papers a bit ago (13 months and 4 days, but who was counting), he thought it was a bluff. a joke. he had gone too far in your last argument, and that was your reaction. when he told you he'd go to therapy, you stared at him with a look he'd only see on men in the battlefield. dead all the way through, a walking husk. so he signed them and went to therapy anyways.

the whole time, this whole 13-month break, where you had been 'building a new life' or whatever, he had been planning. internalizing the commentary his therapist would make, and then spitting it back out to you while you moved out of his place. every time you seemed to forget one extra box, and who's to say if he hid a couple in his room? he had a plan.

over time, simon really seemed to have learned so much from therapy. so much about communication. he had become open and welcoming, far from that man who would respond to your complaints with hard stares and a lack of words. so maybe you met for coffee a couple of times and that's how he knew about the cafe by your new place. maybe that's how he tailed you one night after a date, just to make sure this new guy didn't try anything (and not to figure out your unit number). whatever he did, he played a dangerous game by letting you have this illusion of freedom while balancing his presence in your life, just enough to make you want more. after weeks and week of stagnant progress, he needed one extra push. something small, not even a shove.

and if he happened to mention your unit number to a bunch of shady guys that hung out in the alley by your building? happened to brag about your pretty pussy and sweet-smelling panties? maybe mention your habit of not locking the window when you left for work? who's to say. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

and now here you were, back in his arms where you belonged. a little frightened but comforted in the knowledge that he could protect you. the ghost wasn't shed when he took his mask off, but you didn't need to know that.

--

your body was so used to being in simon's arms you didn't even realize you had been grinding on him for the past ten minutes. his boxers you wore were sticky with arousal as you grinded against his clothed cock in the dark. even in your dream, it was simon underneath you, no one else. "si." you panted, a near-whisper that only a military man could have heard. "dove?" he adjusted your sleeping positions, tossing the covers to give you more room to maneuver against him.

"i know i said that thing about the line not being crossed." he gave you a low chuckle. silly little girl. you had finally realized how much you needed him and he was going to milk you for all you were worth. "and?" you stopped. shit. he needed to seem more responsive. he moved you from his thigh to his boner using one arm, the other one snaking its way under your shirt to stroke your back. you moaned as he massaged the tension from the day's earlier events away, giving you sweet relief. the sweetness of the massage made a hard contrast to the friction in your core as he rubbed you against his hardened cock.

"spit it out, baby." he growled. "can you-fuck." his hand had moved to the back of your neck now, holding it in a tight grip. his hand was so large he could feel the pulse points on either side of your jaw, heart racing. finally. "can you get me off? just this once?" he snorted, moving you up and down against him faster, dragging your sensitive clit over and over. "what's the magic word?" he flipped you both around, pressing his body weight on top of you.

simon turned the light on, wanting to see how needy you were. you were panting, shirt sticky with sweat as your chest moved up and down with exertion. he hiked up your shirt and took off your boxers, exposing your sticky cunt to the cool air. he took a sniff of the fabric, noting your small gasp as if you didn't know how obsessed he was with you already. "magic word." your mouth dropped. guess you weren't getting off that easily. "please, simon." he clucked his tongue at that. "ghost?" he left out a short laugh, arms reaching out to tug his shirt off of you. your nipples were so hard, aching to be pinched and sucked just how you liked them. "not ghost." he reached over to his nightstand, pulling something out of the drawer. he fumbled with his hand for a second, then held yours up to the light as he slipped something on it.

"husband." the words left your mouth in a whoosh, eyes transfixed on your wedding ring that was on your hand. the one you had flung at him after he complained about the divorce papers, the one you said you'd rather die than wear again. and here it was, right back on your finger, sparkling in the lamplight.

simon captured your mouth in a rough kiss, entering you with his ring and middle finger at the same time. "so willing for your husband, hm? all puffy and wet. look at your cunt, darling." you both looked down at your pussy at the same time. it was squelching, your vibrator sessions not holding a candle to what your ex husband could do to you. you were almost embarrassed by how desperate your pussy looked, clit enlarged from its earlier friction. his fingers worked in and out of you, wedding ring covered in slick. you watched as he pressed his thumb to your clit in small circles, a tightening sensation in your lower belly rising to the surface. "simon, si-fuck" he gave your pussy a small slap, pulling his fingers out as you addressed him incorrectly. "husband, please." he entered you again roughly, drawing a low moan from you. he captured your nipple in his mouth, teething it just enough to make you hurt. punishment.

"please please please i'm right ther-" he pressed hard against your clit and sent you careening off the edge into your orgasm, back bowing off the bed. simon gave you small love bites as you recovered, hand still working your cunt to draw out your orgasm.

finally, he removed his fingers and drew back from you, forcing eye contact. he put both in his mouth, moaning at the taste of your arousal mixed with the metal from the wedding band. your jaw was still open, looking at him like you had never seen him before. like the sheep's skin had finally been removed, and now only the wolf remained.

"let's get you to bed, wife."

[heich0e]

suna recently moved into a new place.

the building he's in now is much nicer than the last one he lived in, and in an even better part of town, too—it's a newly built place that's still only half-occupied, leaving him with so few neighbours on his floor that he claims sometimes it feels like he's got the whole building to himself.

living in a new-build (a half-build, technically, since there's still active construction happening in some of the units on other floors) presents its own unique challenges, though. since no one's ever lived in his unit before him, he's sort of like the guinea pig; the first to discover which of the design elements are functional and which aren't. like how the tap in his bathroom had accidentally been installed backwards, so the hot and cold water markers were switched—a realization he regrettably only came to after stepping into an ice cold shower for the first time.

or how the intercom system in the building isn't quite up and running yet, so every time he has guests over he has to come all the way down to the lobby to let them in himself.

"wow, what are the chances of running into you here?" rintarou drawls as he opens the building door for you, allowing you to step in out of the cool night outside.

pretty good, you'd wager, because he knew you were coming and had to be here to let you in.

you're too tired to make any sort of snarky remark though, shooting him a pointed look instead as you step past him in the doorway and into the lobby's warmth. coming to suna's place had been a last minute decision made late in the evening when a poorly-timed (or well-timed on his part) text landed in your inbox; you weren't dressed for the weather, but had been close enough to walk from the little bar where a few of your friends had gathered that evening.

"cold out?" he asks you as he lets the door swing shut, turning and following along behind you as you begin making your way towards the elevator.

"freezing," you reply, still holding your coat tightly around your frame. you're narrowly fighting back the way your teeth threaten to chatter.

"sorry, I came down as soon as you called to tell me you were on your way," rintarou frowns a little as he takes in the way you have your arms wrapped around yourself for warmth.

"no, i know," you wave off his concern, pressing the UP button on the panel next to the elevator in the lobby. "i should have called sooner but i didn't want to take my hands out of my pockets since it was so cold on the walk here."

you'd only fished your cellphone out of your pocket when the building was in sight a few metres down the road, preserving every little bit of warmth you could for as long as possible.

"you know, you wouldn't need to wait for me to let you in if you'd just let me give you a key fob."

the elevator doors slide open to take you both up to rintarou's floor, and your glance over at him from the corner of your eye as the two of you step inside.

you don't want one of suna's key fobs. firstly because he'd already broken the only spare he had thanks (indirectly) to you—having once tried to toss it down from his third floor balcony while you were waiting out front in the middle of the night. it had landed on the pavement underfoot and shattered into approximately a million pieces—leaving him down to only the one connected to his own key ring. he'd told you it really wasn't that expensive to get his building manager to replace it, but you'd vehemently spurned the suggestion, which brings you to the second point—

having a key to rintarou's place (however temporary) just feels too... serious.

too serious for you and him, and whatever this decidedly unserious thing between you is, anyway.

"who's to say you won't destroy that one too?" you brush off his suggestion as the elevator doors slide closed.

the inside of the elevator still has those thick, padded blankets hanging up to protect the mirrored walls while they finish construction, and still have people constantly moving boxes and furniture and whatever else into the vacant units units. it makes the already confined space feel even smaller, and you try to ignore it as suna presses the button for his floor on the panel off to the side of the doors.

"fine, freeze then," rintarou shrugs, but you can feel his eyes on the side of your face.

"the cold wasn't even the bad part," you sigh, wincing a little as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. "i haven't worn these boots out before and my feet are killing me."

suna glances down at your feet, taking in the knee high boots you have on your feet.

"oh," he says, his tone a bit different now in a way that makes you look at him suspiciously. "those are nice."

"you're such a freak," you laugh under your breath and he peeks up at you without a hint of guilt on his face.

"i mean it," he insists.

"i know you do," you snort.

the elevator dips slightly as it arrives to rintarou's floor, and it makes you wobble a bit unsteadily. rintarou wraps his arm around your waist to steady you without missing a beat.

"they really hurt that bad?" he asks, peering down at you curiously.

from this close you can see just how unfairly long his eyelashes are, and how they flutter as he blinks down at you. you hate how nice it is to feel his warmth seeping into you when he holds you like this. you hate the thought of him stepping away again even more.

"yeah, it's my own fault though," you answer quietly.

the elevator doors slide open, and you move to step out, but rintarou rushes ahead of you. you watch, confused, as he crouches down just on the other side of the threshold of the sliding doors.

"really?" you ask him with a laugh, rolling your eyes as he waits for you to climb up on his back.

but it's late, and you're tired, and your feet hurt.

(and you really like how warm he is, even if you'll never say it.)

so you carefully hop on, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, and let him carry you off in the direction of his apartment—endlessly grateful for how few units on his floor are leased, and therefore how your chances of running into anyone in your current state are lowered.

you can only see the slightest bit of rintarou's profile while he carries you like this, but you can tell even from the glimpse you get that he's looking awfully smug as he carries you to his door.

"don't look so pleased with yourself," you mutter, squeezing your legs a bit tighter around his waist in warning.

rintarou's hands slip down from where he was loosely holding you behind your knees until they grasp your thighs and the leather upper of your boots.

"these really are nice you know," suna remarks quietly, his thumbs brushing along some of the stitching at the sides.

"i'm not keeping them on in bed," you warn him flatly, his apartment door now in sight at the other end of the hall.

"why not?" suna sounds so plaintive it almost makes you laugh. his grip slips all the way down to your ankles now. "it's not like they can hurt your feet while you'll be on your back, anyway."

"rintarou!" you hiss, slapping one of your hands over his mouth to shut him up, scandalized at what he's said in the middle of the hallway—lack of neighbours or not.

you feel his lips spread in an obnoxious grin under your palm, but you don't dare pull it away.

"keep it up and you're getting thrown off the balcony next, pervert."

[cassafrasscr]

I continue to have so many thoughts about Ashton.

I've seen a handful of posts accusing Ashton of being selfish and power-hungry, and I don't think that's completely inaccurate, per se. I don't think it's fair to frame it as Ashton just wanting power for it's own sake without considering the larger context of the threat they're facing.

Let's look back on the Hells' first battle with Otohan.

Ashton was almost completely useless in that fight. He got knocked out twice in the space of a few rounds. Which, no shade. With her Echoes in play, Otohan was almost able kill Keyleth (a level 20 Archdruid, plus her elemental Wildshape) in a single round.

Ashton's whole job is to tank hits and deal damage. With an enemy that can deal out enough damage in one round to put the tank out of commission, his ability to mitigate damage to the rest of the party is severely hampered (if not cancelled out completely).

The only reason Ashton didn't also die in that fight is that his friends healed them enough that they could get back up again, and they were able to make a run for it before Otohan started going back to kill the PCs she had already knocked out.

And that was just Otohan. One of Ludinus' right hand generals, sure, but still nowhere near as strong as Ludinus himself (or even Predathos, if it gets released). Even once they defeat Otohan, the fight that's still in store for Bell's Hells is near insurmountable.

Taliesin has said in a previous 4SD (don't remember which one, sorry) that this fight was the moment that Ashton realized just how invested with this new group they had become. The moment he couldn't protect his friends was the moment he realized that he finally had the family he'd been missing... and by then three of them (Orym, Laudna, and Fearne - probably the PCs Ash was closest to at the time) were dead.

Not only could Ashton not protect his friends, he also ran. He left his friends behind and half of them ended up getting killed. I think Ashton may feel they left their friends for dead in that moment, the same way the Nobodies left him for dead after the Hexum Heist.

Now, I'm not sure I would necessarily equivocate these two situations - this is just where I think Ashton's head might be given recent events. I don't think he would see any significant difference between the Nobodies leaving him after his fall, and him running for his life during the Otohan fight. If I'm remembering correctly, this is also around the time that Ashton really started to double down on their "Nobody gets left behind" rule.

Now that Ash is aware of how much he cares about the other Hells, he will do absolutely anything to keep them. Bell's Hells is too invested in the fight against Ludinus to turn back, and Ashton is never going to leave them again. So if the Hells won't abandon the fight, and Ash won't abandon the Hells, their only option is to get strong enough to keep their friends safe.

So of course Ashton took the Shard of Rau'shan when Fearne didn't want it. No one else seemed able or willing to take it, so Ashton charged ahead with his decision the way he tends to do.

Was it arrogant and hubristic? YES. Was it a power-hungry thing to do? YES. Was it wrong to keep it secret from the rest of the group? YES. But there's not a single force in Exandria that will make Ashton regret taking that shard if it helps him protect his friends even a little bit.

It also feels fitting to me that one of the few things Ashton can't protect them from is his own poor decision making.

[thatharringrovehoe]

I'm thinking of an AU where Billy wasn't involved in the shenanigans/horrors of season three at all. He worked at the pool, picked up extra shifts ever since Heather stopped showing up, went to scoops every chance he got just to see Steve Harrington's fat ass in those tiny shorts. He has a night off for once and decides to go and see that new sci-fi movie playing at the mall. Near the end he swears he can hear Harrington laughing like a lunatic with some girl down in the front row, but when the movie ends Billy doesn't see him in the que to leave, just the girl he works with huddled around a bucket of popcorn and giggling to herself while she wanders towards the water fountain. He needs to piss, so Billy makes his way to the bathroom, stopping short outside the entrance when the sound of someone wretching up what must be all of their internal organs filters through the door. He debates just going home, but he actually *really* has to go. So.

Billy pushes open the door, ignoring the painful vomiting sounds three doors down and takes care of business. It's not until he saunters up to wash his hands that he notices a pair of very familiar Nike's sticking out across the floor. And there sits Harrington, hugging the toilet like a lifeline and panting into the crook of his elbow.

"Harrington? Shit, you alright?"

And normally he'd poke fun. Pretty boy is obviously on something, evident by his blown out pupils and glassy stare. But he's also sweating buckets and shaking, tears and snot running down his face. And Jesus ever loving *fuck*, whoever worked over pretty boy's face wasn't pulling any punches.

Steve squints, eyes traveling slowly from Billy's boots up to his face. He smiles, dopey and high and Billy winces at how it pulls the purple black swelling of his cheek.

"Yeah, I feel way better now."

Which. *Okaaaaay*.

"I'll bet. What the fuck happened to your face?"

"I was integrated-..inter...interror-...I was tortured by Russian spies"

Billy snorts, amused despite himself.

"Oh yeah? That why you weren't at the counter today, sailor?"

Steve scrunches up his nose, and damn, Billy's gunna have to ask Harrington what he took when he's a bit more sober. It's some potent stuff if he's not even flinching moving an obviously broken nose like that.

"You know my shift schedule?"

*Shit*. Billy feels the tips of his ears go hot. Clearing his throat awkwardly as he glances down at his boots.

Time to change the subject.

"Why were you being *interrogated* by Russian spies, pretty boy?"

Steve sucks his teeth.

"Cuz the monsters came back and Robin cracked Dustin's code and then we went under the mall in an elevator to a secret Russian Army base and got caught and then they beat me up and shot me and Robin up with truth syrup and-...umm....I think that's it."

Billy blinks.

Once.

Twice.

And. *Huh*.

"That right?"

Steve nods, swaying dangerously forward before catching himself on the stall doorway.

Whatever he's on, Steve obviously *believes* what he's saying. There might even be something to that 'truth serum' element considering how he's answered all of Billy's questions so easily. And Billy never once in his life claimed to be a good person.

"Why were you with my sister at the Byers' house last winter?"

Steve's head shoots up, eyes wide as saucers and for one horrifying moment Billy's sure the guy is going to start crying. Thankfully he doesn't, just slumps even heavier against the toilet with a sigh.

"Because there are monsters in the dark. And I was supposed to protect them. I *had* to protect them. Hopper said to *stay*. And then you showed up and Max said you were gonna kill her and I was supposed to keep them *safe*"

Billy tries to parse through whatever make believe bullshit Steve is spouting before getting caught on the whole *killing his sister* part.

"What, and you believed her?"

Steve gives him a considering look. Barring the rest of *whatever the fuck* Steve is talking about, Billy isn't sure he wants to hear the answer the guy is obviously mulling over.

Finally, he settles on "I don't anymore", and something sharp and hurt in Billy's chest settles.

"Hmm. Alright. If you've been *shot up with truth syrup*" Billy huffs a laugh "tell me a secret. Something you specifically don't want me to know."

Again, Billy's never claimed to be a good person.

Somewhere under all that blood and bruising, Billy thinks he sees a flush creep up Harrington's neck.

*Jackpot*

"I'm the one who keeps stealing your photo from the pool corkboard"

He-..

Wait

What?

"That's-. Uh. Not what I thought you were gonna say."

Steve shrugs, embarrassed and looking anywhere but Billy. And Billy *has to know*. Has to ask.

"Why?"

Harrington looks up at him, not a trace of a lie in his eyes.

"Cuz every time I go to the pool to ask you on a date I chicken out."

Billy can't feel his fucking *face*. He has no idea what to say.

It's at this exact moment one of Max's nerd friends kicks down the bathroom door, holding Scoops girl by the shirt while Sinclair's little sister levels Billy with a challenging glare that has shame curling hot and acrid in his gut.

"STEVE! We've been looking *everywhere* for you! C'mon buddy, we have to get outta here before the Russian guys find us."

These hicks are fucking insane.

After helping Steve up to rinse out his mouth in the sink, Billy walks out of the bathroom with Harrington hanging off his shoulder when a bullet whizzes past his nose to embed itself in the cement wall.

Henderson is screaming "Shit, they found us!" while two men in black combat gear come charging up the escalator, armed to the teeth. They bark orders out in what is obviously Russian before a show car *flies through the air* and crushes them against the wall.

After Billy is introduced to a little girl with God damn *superpowers*, he's given a bare bones explanation while Steve plays with one of Billy's stray curls like it's the most interesting thing in the world. And monsters are real and there's a spider made of people out to get them and apparently Heather is possessed and all Billy can hear is

***Cuz every time I go to the pool to ask you on a date I chicken out***

[tetsunabouquet]

Could you do some nsfw yandere headcanons for imayoshi, hanamiya, kiyoshi (he'd be interesting with his morals and all) and lastly akashi (presumably bokushi would come out and act on his feelings)?

A/N: Because of Tumblr's word limit, I do have to keep the headcanons a bit shorter then usual considering you requested multiple ones at once. (18+)

Imayoshi

-Imayoshi's ability to be able to do exactly what a person's hate, evolved once you caught his eye. He has almost some sort of magical ability to find you when you're all alone. -This also extends to making you love everything about him even though the depth of his obsession repulses you at first. -Not the type to force himself on you, but the one who will try to seduce you to get you as crazy as you make him. -He'll climb in your bed and whisper how much he wants to get dirty for a change when he sees you in your ear, caging you in his strong arms until his words start arousing you. Because his ability to do what you hate, allows him to always find the spare key you hide around your house. No matter how often you change its location. -Imayoshi always holds you after filling up your pussy, and sleeps with you. It's your sleeping face he holds most dear. You often feel like he should add teleporting in his skillset, because he always miraculously leaves about ten minutes before your parents wake up.

Hanamiya

-Sadistic enough to engage in sexual abuse. -Will fuck you raw to show you that you belong to him. -However he's patient and will spin a web around you before he acts. He will slowly isolate you from your friends, until you have no one to run to. -Once you're all alone, he'll slowly break you. From blackmail to rape, there is nothing Hanamiya isn't capable off. -Hanamiya's preference for stupid girls has to partially do with these being the type of girls who won't outsmart or win from him. They're easy prey to this spider. -The only thing you can do is moan and cum like a brainless slut as he chokes you and whispers in your ear how you belong to him.

Kiyoshi

-Because of his personality, you don't detect his creepiness at all which makes him so dangerous. -He's intelligent enough to realize he has the element of surprise. His plan is to slowly worm his way into your life and heart until it's too late. -Your friends won't believe you at all if you notice a tiny red flag every once in a while, because they are as oblivious to Kiyoshi's dark side as you are most of the time. -Once Kiyoshi feels the time is right, he'll slowly start taking his steps to close in. Dark eyes flashing when you talk to other boys who mysteriously all end up having their lives sabotaged. A possessive hand at times groping you and playing it off as an accident all the while a unsettling smile plays on his lips. -When he finally gets into your pants, Kiyoshi has either two sets of behaviors. One is sweet and rewards you kindly when you've been a good girl. If you've ruffles his feathers by daring to speak up or talk with other boys, he'll fuck your brains our with no mercy until you remember you're his. -Whenever he calms down from these moods, he'll start pampering your bruises with kisses as you mentally tell yourself not to upset him next time.

Akashi

-He knows everything about you. Has secret cameras installed around your house everywhere, has your phonecalls traced and overheard, knows your parents work schedule. He knows every detail about you before he starts to operate. -Whilst you and your friends can see him coming from miles away, no one will help you. No one had enough power to protect you from Akashi. -Eventually has you kidnapped. -He'll breed you so he can use the children against you. Expect as much creampies from him as possible. -Can foresee your every escape attempt. -He'll pump you roughly but slowly, and as you look into those slitted demon-like eyes of his, it feels as if you might as well be taken by the devil himself and you hate how it turns you on.

[cumulo-ghoulll]

Ghoul Pack HCs

For a period of time in the late summer, all ghouls and ghoulettes are locked out of all the buildings on the grounds and are forced into the elemental habitat. This is hunting season. It affects every ghoul, making them almost feral, revert back to walking on all fours, and extremely dangerous to anyone who is not another ghoul. On one occasion, Secondo was attacked after refusing to let his ghouls out. He wasn't severely injured but he now has a large scar on his left bicep where he'd been clawed. Copia is more than happy to let them out and usually sends them out a day early after feeding them well in case they don't make any catches.

Dew is usually the first to Turn. He is extremely territorial and one of the only ghouls who do not hunt in a group. He seems to be a bit of a scavenger, getting into fights with the others if they haven't left any food for him. He's often seen circling the doors of the ministry, trying to lure someone out. Apparently, he forgets the lectures given to the siblings and Papas, reminding them not to go outside. Even though he shouldn't, Copia feels a bit bad for his futile efforts and sometimes throws a raw chicken or two out a window for Dew to take.

Rain usually takes himself off to the pond at least a week before Turning to move his koi carp to a tank inside. After Turning, he hunts both on land and in water. His serrated teeth make it extremely easy for him to catch and keep hold of any prey, especially fish. If he eats everything he can in his pond, he usually goes and hunts with Mountain or Swiss. Rain's the least aggressive of all the ghouls and ghoulettes, preferring only small or medium sized prey and avoiding any form of conflict. On one occasion, a Sibling had gone outside to send over some paperwork to a different building, Rain had gotten a bit too close for the siblings liking and was scared off by a few loud claps and shouts.

Mountain is one of the most aggressive ghouls during hunting season. He attacks almost anything that moves. Although his antlers seem to suggest he'd be a herbivore and a lot more docile, Mountain often hunts quite large prey. Elk or moose are released prior to Mountain being sent out. By the end of the season, almost all of them are eaten. He prefers to hunt with a few others, especially Rain and Swiss. Mountain is the one the clergy is told to keep an eye out for as he is extremely hard to scare off if he gets too close. He rarely comes out of the woods however, so it's very rare for him to attack anyone away from the woods' border. Mountain also requires a lot of care at the end of the season as his morals while Turned contradicts his usual morals. Any carcasses have to be disposed of, any surviving elk or moose are released into a different woodland, and Rain uses his elemental powers to naturally wash away any blood.

Swiss hunts with anyone who'll have him. Unlike the rest of the pack, Swiss is extremely good at mimicking different animal calls which makes him extremely useful in pack hunts. Roll calls are made twice daily back in the ministry as Swiss occasionally imitates human screams, hoping to lure people out. He's also an excellent climber and enjoys hunting birds in particular. He's been seen play fighting Dew when they get near each other and Copia always takes the opportunity to take pictures of them.

Aether and Phantom are some of the hardest ghouls to keep out as well as being the most dangerous. Quint ghouls hunt in the shadows so are extremely hard to spot. During hunting season, all the lights are kept on inside the buildings and candles are handed out to anyone who needs them. Quint ghouls are also the hardest to protect yourself from as they literally drain and devour the soul out of their victims. They also work very closely with the ghoulettes. The Quints feed on anything living so don't require any support like Mountain or Dew. Phantom finds it hard to kill anything and Aether has to often convince him to drain a spider. Phantom is almost always starving at the end of the season as he eats very little during it. Copia makes sure there's food waiting for him in his room when he returns.

The ghoulettes are just about as hard to protect yourself from as quints. They suffocate their prey almost immediately. However, it could be argued that they have the most humane way of killing their prey. There's never been any ghoulette attacks though so people tend not to be as cautious of them. They prefer small animals like hares and rabbits but will also help catch prey on pack hunts. The ghoulettes hunt together anyway and rarely hunt alone. They also work with quints a lot as they both hunt in similar ways.

The hunting season lasts around two weeks but the pack makes their way back inside in their own time. It takes a lot of them a little while to go back to walking upright and talking. They're also given an extra week off all work (which annoys Aether as he tries to convince everyone he's fine to go back to work the day after). The pack usually just relaxes in the den and have very long naps.

[ddarker-dreams]

hi locky!!!♡ this might be really personal, but have you thought about SR reader being comforted by her boys after or during an anxiety stage? if you feel fine with it, of course🥺💕 it's just that your SR story is a comfort to me🌸

HI HI i have seen you in my notifs enjoying SR and it's brought me lots of much joy!!!! i consider it a comfort series too, so i'm happy whenever i see it fulfills a similar role for others. coincidentally, i've thought about how anxiety might play a role in SR reader's life. she has a lot to be anxious about tbh hjrktme she doesn't want to take the time to process things and would much rather distract/keep herself busy... it's an element of her characterization i haven't explored enough!

[Scarlet Ribbons index]

Warning: Depiction of anxiety/panic attacks.

Giorno

Giorno is checking you all over for injuries that aren't present, given the attack's psychological nature. Once he confirms there's nothing physically wrong, his mind goes back to the long nights he spent without his mother as a child. That level of visceral panic mimics what he's witnessing here. He does what he wishes he had a parent around to do for him — speaks to you in a low voice, reassures you that he's not going anywhere, that it's going to be okay. He'll gently remind you to breathe. Considering he's improvising on the spot, he does a good job. He'd have a lot of questions, ranging from how frequently this happens to if there's any way to circumvent it, but he'll hold his tongue until things settle down. His initial panic further reveals to him just how much he cares for you and your wellbeing.

Bruno

Bruno never loses his cool, but seeing you succumb to this paroxysm out of (seemingly) nowhere almost has him spiraling. He's known you the longest out of all the others, so he mentally derides himself for not catching onto this earlier. The cheeriness you exude masks anything you don't want others to see. He wants you to feel comfortable enough to tell him anything. Due to his protectiveness over you, he might insist on going to the hospital, so long as you aren't vehemently opposed. The powerlessness he feels watching you battle your anxiety is the worst part, he wants nothing more than to make it stop. He might be a bit pushy about getting you to explain what just happened if you aren't volunteering the information. It comes from a well-intentioned place, though.

Fugo

Fugo does surprisingly well considering how delicate the situation is. He excelled at academics, which naturally encompasses psychology as well. He probably understands what's happening here best. This knowledge doesn't translate seamlessly into reality — due to the tension in the air, his words come out more clipped than he intended — though he's still able to lead you through some steps to calm down. It's a touch clinical but it works. Afterward, he's digging through scientific journals and learning everything there is to learn about anxiety. He's especially interested in what may have caused it, so that you can avoid it repeating in the future. He's practically a licensed psychiatrist by the end of the week. Obtaining knowledge helps him feel more in control of an otherwise chaotic situation, so this is his way of making sense of things to help you better.

Mista

Mista snaps into a more serious version of himself immediately. He has excellent interpersonal skills, from your body language alone, he could tell something was wrong before the panic attack actually occurred. It helps that he also knows you like the back of his hand. If this is the first time he's been around for this, he'll use his intuition to infer the best way to help. Should you seem receptive to it, he'll talk to you in a low voice, serving as a grounding figure amidst the tumult. He has this infectious optimism that you can't help but be soothed by. When you're feeling up to it, he'll ask if you wouldn't mind telling him what that's about. He definitely doesn't want you to have to go through it again.

Narancia

Narancia, bless his heart, initially makes it kinda worse. He isn't exactly a mental health aficionado. Since he doesn't see any clear cause and effect, he'll mistake it for a Stand attack. He'll summon Aerosmith and promise to take care of whoever is behind this. When you insist it isn't a Stand attack, he'll start fussing over you, asking how he's supposed to help. He's horrified by the thought of anything happening to you, his best friend whom he loves dearly. Until you're feeling up to explaining what anxiety is, he sticks to your side like glue. If this happens again, he'll do a lot better. It's just the first time where he's at a loss on what to do.

Abbacchio

Abbacchio is at an absolute loss but manages to maintain a composed façade. He might not understand the specifics of what's happening, but he knows he should take you to a private area. It's rather jarring to see you go from your jovial disposition to being overwhelmed by some force he can't make sense of. It twists his heart and churns his stomach. He'll wonder if you've silently been dealing with this all along. He isn't the best at waxing poetic, but he'll be there until it subsides. He quietly apologizes for not being of much help in the moment. When you tell him that just having him present was all you could've asked for, he honestly feels somewhat emotional. He will sit there for hours and listen to you talk about it, if that's what you want.

[crxshed-skxlls]

Wow, I am love with your writing for LJ so far! ^^

If it’s not too much trouble, may I request headcanons for Laughing Jack with an asexual, gender-neutral reader who is curious about the “naughty times”, but hasn’t actually “done it” yet? 👉🏻👈🏻

Thank you!

Very interesting dynamic!! Your sins are my command lovely user 🙏

— ❝ 10 Laughing Jack x curious Ace GN!Reader headcanons

NSFW tags: First time things, protected sex, expirimentist elements, more vanilla territory, oral sex, teratophilia, corruption kink

At first, Laughing Jack would be caught off guard. After all those perverted years of his, he's never stumbled across such a concept. Though after a bit of explaining and juggling questions, he'd be at a simplistic level of understanding.

He would probably handle the situation like a special first time. Jack would treat you as carefully as tainted glass when he's with you. For such a sadistic perverted clown, he definately had a softer more vanilla side to him.

Laughing Jack would totally be a service dom. He'd be too concentrated on pleasuring your curiosity than himself. He'd always make sure after such a conversation what safe words or motions you'd use in case your uncomfortable.

Laughing Jack would be hesitant and reluctant at first. Looking up at you as he wraps his claws around your waist for any positive reactions. He would go soft and slow, watching what made you uneasy and what made you tick.

He wouldn't be up against experimenting small things with you. Small nibbles on your neck to teasingly gliding his claws against your plush thighs. He wants to hear your approvals and your curious reactions.

The thought of corrupting your innocence for the first time would be such a treasure to him. Though Jack understands if you may or may not like it, thinking about the curious prospects keeps his mind reeling for more of you.

Your first curious time with Jack would probably end with oral sex. His eyes lingering up at you as his tongue slithers inside your hole, spilling mewls and confused moans out of you. He'd always have a grip on your hand, making sure that you were consenting and fine with it.

Jack would definately go a little vanilla than his usual for you for a reluctant fear he might hurt you. Of course you both could talk about it later, but he wanted to make sure that you felt safe and comfortable in his alluring claws.

Heavy aftercare would be the first thing Jack does. Asking you up and down if you were okay, if you enjoyed it as he presses small careful kisses along your body. He'd be the type to spoil you rotten the first time your curiosities peaked.

If you were uncomfortable with any of his interactions, he'd immediately stop everything. Hushed whispers of praise as he attempts to clean you up, making sure you would be alright. He swears he'll be good without such sensual interactions, comforting his favorite toy with reassurance and relaxed feelings.

[redrobin-detective]

the things we lost to the ice

It didn't quite sink in until Gunter put on the crown and became an Ice... something that it was all over. He was back as himself, with his body and brain and awkward personality, permanently. It didn't feel like last time, like each breath was bringing him closer to his last. Simon was also somehow back in his old favorite suit, with its worn elbows and his glasses clean and unbroken. He even couldn't feel the crown whispering in the back of his mind anymore. It was as GOLB had taken him back to just moments before he'd worn the crown for the first time, intending to tease Betty.

Oh Betty.

"Hey so uh, who are you?" Simon looked up from the rock Marcy had set him on to see Flame Princess staring at him curiously. Right she was... literally made of fire. He knew that, Simon blinked. Wait he did actually, his brain retained lots of facts about Ooo and it's people. It was his or, well, Ice King's personal experiences that felt fuzzy. "Because you came out of the GOLB thing together with Finn but I've never seen you before. Marceline seemed to know you though." She tilted her head and frowned, "Finn told me he was the last human, was that another lie?"

"Get away from him!" He heard Marcy screech as she rocketed over from where she'd been talking to Bubblegum and some other candy people. Her arm wrapped protectively around him, her sharp nails digging into his clothes and her batlike face pressed against his own. Her skin was cold like death. He hated how he tensed with instinctual fear at having a predator so close. This was his Marcy, his precious little girl. She was different than he remembered but she loved him, she wouldn't hurt him. He clenched his fists so they didn't shake.

"Hey Marcy! Don't worry, F.P. is cool!" Finn shouted, galloping over with a big grin on his face. "Oh man, so much just happened but Simon are you back-back, like for realsies? That is so math!" Finn hug tackled him and Marcy.

"Still waiting on an explanation," Flame Princess grumbled.

"So she actually got you free, how joyous," Magic Man -no, Normal Man- said with a small smile but his eyes were sharp. "I suppose the power of GOLB is the only thing strong enough to undo elemental wish magic. Congratulations, Ice King, welcome back to reality."

"Wait Ice King?" Flame Princess gaped and Simon realized that -with the major world ending threat neutralized - they were now the center of attention. It's only just occurring to him that his window to divorce himself completely from Ice King and pretend he was someone else was about to close forever. Just like the chance to hold Betty in his arms again.

"Yea!" Finn explained, wrenching around to address Flame Princess and gagging Simon by putting him in a headlock. "It's a long story -seriously long, he's like over a thousand years old or something- but Simon put on the crown only he didn't know it was hecka cursed. It possessed him and piloted his body like a meat puppet, turning him into Ice King and made him act all Banaynay."

"It took him a while for him to become Ice King though," Marcy said, shifting Simon slightly out of Finn's grip so she was hugging him from behind with her chin propped on his head. "He rescued me when I little before I was bit by the Vampire King. Simon took care of me after the world ended, he even showed me the basics of playing guitar." She nuzzled him and gave him a gentle squeeze, "I missed you so much, you have no idea."

"I missed you too, Sweet Girl," he murmured back. He'd been here the whole time but at the same time, been very far away. There's hazy memories of this older Marceline, her songs echoing somewhere in his head. Mostly he remembers her frowning over whatever crazy thing Ice King had been doing at the time.

"Whoa, you taught Marcy! I had no idea you were so musical," Finn shouted before looking thoughtful. "Well I guess IK used to play on his drums or his keyboard a lot now that I think about it." He smiled, a goofy teenage smile despite the missing teeth and scars from numerous adventures. "I guess you weren't totally gone."

"It doesn't justify the constant harassment and kidnapping of innocent Princesses," Bubblegum said primly.

"Bonnibel," Marcy growled.

"But I'm willing to forgive past grievances so long as it doesn't happen again. You are, after all, practically a new man." Bubblegum noted. "I presume it was born out of subconscious desire to find Betty again, the crown fixating on that desperation for love. Of course, Betty is gone now so it's all rather a moot point, isn't it?"

"Bonnie, seriously, now is not the time," Marcy warned. The fresh reminder of Betty's sacrifice, the permanence of it hit him again. Insanity had overwhelmed his depression and loneliness and loss of identity, redirected it. Now nothing could distract him from that sucking chest wound of loss threatening to consume him.

"Uhhh hey Simon!" Finn interrupted with a manic smile. "Can't wait to learn all about human stuff from you! I bet you can even teach the Islanders a thing or two, pretty sure they've forgotten what it's like to be human. But you know all sorts of humany stuff I bet. It's gonna be awesome learning where I come from." Good lord, was someone going to love and support this beautiful child or was it up to him again?

Finn reached out with his remaining hand and grabbed one of Simon's own, lacing them together. Simon jolted and looked at their conjoined hands before spreading their palms and fingers together. His pinky finger only met empty air.

"Oh my god Finn, have you only ever had four fingers?" He balked. Ice King's memories weren't that reliable, he couldn't actually recall.

"Don't you mean glob and uh yeah, that's the normal amount I think," Finn shrugged, squinting at Simon's pinky. "What do you need that extra one for anyhow? Does it have special powers or something?"

"Yeah, I always thought that was weird," Jake said from somewhere behind Finn. "Marcy has an extra one too, figured it was just how things were before the Mushroom War."

"It was actually a nuclear holocaust that wiped out pretty much all life on earth and mutated the rest beyond recognition but sure," Simon said with a hysterical edge in his voice as the weight of his situation pressed down on him.

He was a thousand years removed from the world he knew, a world that now only existed as ruins or twisted, funhouse mirror replicas. Simon was totally alone, the only person who remembered the way things were before. Marcy was here but she'd made the journey through time naturally, she'd adapted and likely forgotten. He no longer had magic and, without it, he wouldn't be allowed into Wizard City. The Ice Kingdom was now Gunter's and the humans of the future have changed in ways he could hardly recognize.

Sometimes the past is a different country, sometimes it's a black hole taking everything down with it.

"Hey dude, you've probably gotta use the bathroom like super bad," Jake said as he broke through the crowd. He gently manhandled Simon away from the well meaning arms of people who were both dear loved ones and strangers all at once. "You haven't whizzed as yourself in like a million years, we better find a place to get your man biz done."

"Wait but-" Marcy said reaching out but Bubblegum grabbed her hand and pulled her away. The rest of the onlookers slowly backed off, going back to the post fight cleanup. As Jake led him away, he made brief eye contact with Normal Man who'd once been a magical god and was now just a man. Simon would probably have out and out collapsed if Jake wasn't steadying him.

"Look, we're just gonna walk away and when we round this corner where no one can see, I'll leave you alone to do whatever you need to do." Jake soothed. "I can hold off Marcy and Finn for maybe 10 minutes, 12 tops. You focus on your breathing and if you gotta hurl, just do it, holding it in jacks you all up." He lowered Simon to the ground once they were out of sight. Simon immediately went into the fetal position.

"You're good at this," Simon noted even as the stress and panic and misery washed over him. He pushed his glasses up into his hair and buried his face in his knees. Jake rubbed his shoulders, it felt good, grounding.

"I've talked Finn through a lot of these episodes before, the kid's been through a lot. You have that in common. You and Finn might have some different physical traits but you're both human. You just had a lot of junk thrown at you so you don't need to figure it all out now. That's what the rest of your life is for. I'll keep the worry squad off your back as long as I can. Take it easy, Simon but, either way, you gotta take it."

Jake went back to the crowd leaving only his wisdom. He was right, no matter how miserable or overjoyed he was over the circumstances, this is the way the dice fell. He had no choice but to take it, to use Betty's sacrifice on his behalf to do whatever he wanted with his remaining time. And he was mortal now, time affected him once more so he had to learn quick.

He had no idea what he would do or even who this new Simon Petrikov, PhD student and aspiring antiquarian was. Just being able to think coherently and regulate his words and actions was a strange miracle he hadn't fully digested yet. Things would be okay, he would be happy once more but, for now, he thought it was okay to sit here in the dirt and cry for everything he'd lost to the ice.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Mission Imp-Possible

[Although we're still three hours shy of the poll's conclusion, I couldn't resist writing this any longer, so, here it is. Swiss babysits some of the imps for an afternoon, it goes about as well as can be expected.] Below the cut.

Swiss would like to know whose idea this was so he can personally thank them, with his fists perhaps, for the headache of a task he's about to waste his day away with.

He has to watch the imps.

Not all of them, just the smaller ones; Cirrus, Dew, Rain, and Sunshine.

But that was still half the pack of the chaotic little runts, and Swiss can already feel the tension building behind his eyes the moment he opens his door and sees the pet carrier sitting there waiting for him.

Crouching down to look inside, Swiss locks eyes with the smallest of the lot; Dew.

Yes, Dew had named his imp after himself, the others had, too, to be fair, but Dew's imp had a special nickname to differentiate him from the ghoul himself.

Dewdles.

Fucking.

Dewdles.

In appearance, he's sort of like a cross between a hairless cat and a rabbit, with little mismatched horns and glowing spots where his magic emanates from his body.

Much like his master, Dewdles is a hybrid, though it was hard to say what his secondary element is, because it's certainly not fire.

He's water and... something else.

Quintessence, maybe, but no one is really sure.

He's a bit like a male calico in that sense.

Rare.

Dewdles is the least of Swiss' concern out of the lot though.

Unlike Dewdrop himself, Dewdles is well behaved, but he needs a lot of attention or he'll become all wet eyed and lethargic...

It's a little heartbreaking to see, and Swiss would rather not, so Dewdles is probably going to spend most of his visit on his lap or close by.

Out of the four of them, he's most concerned with Rain's imp.

Drizzle.

Somehow that name is worse than Dewdles, but Swiss can't quite parse why.

Drizzle is... in a word?

Slippery.

He's pure water, meaning his body has the consistency of one of those water tube toys; All flop and wiggle, and, if Swiss didn't no better, no bones whatsoever.

Drizzle is wrapped around Dewdles protectively, although if you ask Swiss, it looks more like he's about to suffocate the little guy and eat him as a snake might.

"He would never." Rain had assured him one evening when he'd seen Drizzle pick Dewdles up off the couch with his mouth and carried him off to snuggle in an overturned cardboard box in the corner, "...At least I hope not."

Rain was quick to clarify that he was joking, but it had taken a great deal of self restraint to keep himself from getting up rescuing the little imp.

A confused chirp from inside the carrier draws Swiss' attention to Sunflower, Sunshine's imp, who was just as small as Dewdles, if not a bit smaller -her large batlike wings and ears gave her a bit more mass- but it was hard to tell unless they were side by side.

Sunflower is a menace, too, largely because she can fly.

Yeah, apparently some imps can do that, though Sunflower seems more inclined to cling and climb, preferring to make others carry her than having to exert energy flying from place to place.

Still, he's a bit worried about her getting on top of or behind something and getting stuck should she decide to do so.

She probably won't.

He hopes.

And lastly, the small wisp of cloud in the very back of the carrier, glaring at him like an angry little lamb, is... Cirrus Jr.

Swiss can mock the others' naming skills all he wants, but, really?

Cirrus Jr.?

He knows better than to laugh about it to Cirrus' face though.

Cirrus Jr. is, quite possibly, the angriest little imp Swiss has yet to encounter.

She's a bit like one of those puffy lap dogs.

Pomeranians.

She bites like one at least.

Swiss assesses the little collective in front of him and then, sighing, takes the carrier inside his room, carefully shutting the door and latching it... because, yeah, the little assholes can work doorknobs.

There's not much imps can't do if they put their walnut sized brains to it, but, much like cats, they don't really have the ability to think things through beyond having the thought, "I've done the thing, now what?"

If they did, Swiss thinks the church would be sending them on the first bus back to Hell, but they don't, and, frankly, that much is apparent based on the little outfit Dewdles has on when he pulls him from the carrier.

Swiss has to pause looking at the pink, rhinestone embroidered shirt and attached tulle skirt, turning Dewdles' entire body in his hand to read the writing on the back.

"Grandpa's Princess." Swiss reads aloud, flipping Dewdles around to meet his gaze.

"Copia bought this for you, didn't he?"

Dewdles croaks at him, giving him a wide-eyed stare, his little two toed paws swimming uselessly in the air.

It's cute.

Swiss sets him down on the ground, watching him waddle along, unsteady on land in spite of being amphibious.

Drizzle lets himself out of the carrier once he sees Dewdles roaming around freely, sidling up beside the smaller imp, bumping against him gently.

Around his long, long neck is a little bow that matches the tulle on Dewdles' skirt.

Swiss hums and shrugs at the pair and turns back to see Sunflower crawling along the floor, looking around warily before slinking over to climb his knee.

"What are you doing?" he asks, feeling her little claws dig into his jeans as she pulls herself up onto his thigh.

She squeaks at him.

Carefully, Swiss extends his hand to her, letting her climb on before resting her on his shoulder.

Probably the only high place he trusts her to be while under his supervision.

Unlike Dewdles and Drizzle, she doesn't have any sort of accessories, probably because they would impede her ability to fly in one way or another, but as far as Swiss is concerned, she's adorable enough without them.

Truthfully, Swiss finds all of the imps impossibly cute... he just.

He just has trouble being around them.

He's not sure why really.

He's not allergic, and he's not afraid of the per se.

He just...

There's some mental hang up that makes it hard for him to understand them.

Even though they can make little noises and communicate quite well, they're very difficult creatures to read, especially for Swiss, and he isn't sure why.

He's been around other animals, other people, but imps?

Imps are weird.

Or maybe he's weird?

It doesn't really matter, it just means Swiss has to pour more energy into figuring out what they want, and sometimes he doesn't have it.

Today, though, he's fine.

He thinks so at least.

Although as he stares down Cirrus Jr., who has yet to leave the carrier, he can't help but feel a little out of his element, and as a multi-ghoul that's certainly an accomplishment in and of itself.

But he decides that, if he has to, or rather, because he wants to, that he's going to get the fluffy ball of rage to like him, even just a little bit.

Glancing over at Dewdles and Drizzle wobbling and sniffing around his room in tandem, and checking on Sunflower where she rests on his shoulder -receiving a mirthful squeak when he pokes the top of her head- Swiss offers his free hand to Cirrus Jr.

She sniffs once.

Twice.

And promptly trots over to the door.

Ouch.

He'd kind of expected that outcome, he's just glad her decision didn't involve sinking her teeth into his hand.

Again.

For the millionth time.

Swiss sighs and shifts to a proper sitting position on the floor, sliding the carrier over to retrieve a bag from the back.

It's a little baggy of treats and other things the imps might want, like toys or...

"Is that another dress?" Swiss pulls out another little costume from the bag; An imp version of their current uniform, complete with little booties.

It's too big to be for Dewdles though, and Swiss has never seen Drizzle wear anything apart from the occasional collar, so whose...

Cirrus Jr.

Swiss looks between the imp and the aloof cloud sat staring at his door.

There's even a little cape.

Yeah, no, this is going on that imp right now.

"Little demon~" Swiss singsongs, tapping his nails on the ground to draw Cirrus Jr.'s attention.

She glares at him.

"Wanna play dress up? Huh?"

There's a flicker of... something... in the imp's eyes.

Swiss thinks for a moment.

"Wanna look like your mama? Huh? Do ya?"

Cirrus Jr. tilts her head and whines.

Her little tail moving ever so slightly.

"Who wants to look like a badass~?"

Tiny hooves click on the ground enthusiastically and come to paw at his shins.

"...Holy shit."

The ordeal of getting a tiny, tiny wisp of cloud into a full on costume takes Swiss a full ten minutes, if only because the outfit is, like anything commissioned by the church these days... incredibly layered and detailed.

"They sprung for real buckles and zippers and not just velcro, huh?" Swiss muses once he finishes tying the laces on Cirrus Jr.'s boots.

"I take anything I ever said about Dewdles being spoiled. You. You are spoiled." he says, scratching behind Cirrus Jr.'s ears, making her wiggle about and roll, "Yes you are, yes you are..."

"Mrrp."

Swiss shivers when he feels a wet, slimy mitt touch his pant leg.

Drizzle has, apparently, grown bored of following Dewdles around and has decided a nap is in order.

The only problem is, Swiss doesn't want a soggy, mucus covered imp in his lap right now.

"No."

If they were outside or in the pool, maybe, but the idea of his lounge pants getting crusted in snot in the process?

Not ideal.

"Noo..."

He doesn't get much of a choice in the matter when Drizzle opens his mouth, yawning widely to expose his practically toothless maw, and all but slides onto him.

"...Okay."

Swiss looks to see where Dewdles has gone without his buddy, and finds him...

Scaling the side of his bookshelf?!

"Dewdles, please-"

"Whrrr..."

"Please, bud."

"Mrrp, mrrr..."

Swiss tries to rise up from his place on the floor, but when he does...

"Mrrp!" Drizzle digs his claws into Swiss's thighs, hanging off of him and hissing irritably as his bed is taken away from him.

"Drizzle!"

"SQUEEEEE-"

All movement in the room stops as Sunflower cries.

Shrill and loud.

Directly into Swiss' ear.

Okay.

Okay, okay, okay.

Yeah, this is too much for Swiss to handle.

Why did the others think he could handle this??

He can't handle it.

He really can't.

He needs help.

Help.

"Stop."

Out from under the bed, shaking off a disturbing cloud of dust, comes Swiss' own imp.

Seldom seen or heard by anyone, even Swiss.

It doesn't have a name, Swiss hadn't wanted to name it to begin with, because it's...

"Behave."

It's weirdly intelligent, alright?

Swiss knows imps are good at mimicking sounds they hear.

But his imp is... it's weird.

It's like Mountain's imp.

Cursed in some way.

But different from the rest.

Even Mounty's imp has the excuse of belonging to, well, Mounty, to explain its odd behavior.

But his imp?

That thing scares him.

And the fact that it was sleeping under his bed this whole time?

It's no wonder he has so much trouble sleeping alone in his room at night.

His imp is shaped like a dog, but wrong.

Like someone tried to draw the animal from memory and made it flesh, with horns atop its narrow head and spines along its tail...

"Behave." it repeats, not to the imps but to...

Him?

Swiss points at himself and the imp just nods before slipping backwards under the bed, black eyes never leaving him.

"Sleeping."

Right.

Gathering up the imps back into the carrier, Swiss slowly flees the room, apologizing for waking the... the whatever the fuck is living under his bed, and heads down the hallway.

He sets up in the common room instead.

"...Right, so that was fucking terrifying." he says after letting the imps back out again, holding Dewdles and Cirrus' Jr. on his chest like a lifeline for his sanity.

Drizzle has curled up on the chair across from the couch, the one Rain likes, and is asleep.

And Sunflower is...

Hanging from the ceiling fan upsidedown.

Fantastic.

It's not on at least.

"Why are you torturing me?" Swiss whines, getting a mix of squeaks and chirps in response.

"You're all stressing me out."

"Mrrp."

"Squeak."

"Chirp."

"Snore."

Swiss lifts his head.

"Drizzle did you just say 'snore' instead of actually snoring?"

Drizzle chuffs at him lightly, sticking out his long, blue, froglike tongue at him.

"...If I didn't know Rain would be mad at me for losing you, I would throw you in the lake so fast-"

Drizzle raises his ears at that.

"I'm NOT throwing you in the lake."

Ears down.

"Mrrp."

Dewdles frees himself from Swiss' grip and drops down onto the floor, trotting over to the chair.

"Meep?"

Drizzle snakes his head down and grabs Dewdles off the floor, nestling him beside him.

They stare at Swiss disapprovingly together.

Swiss could be mad.

But then again, they are still dressed up like little matching nerds, so he just sticks his tongue out at Drizzle and turns his attention to Cirrus Jr., who has taken to sleepily purring at full volume against him.

Swiss yawns.

"The others better get back soon."

It doesn't take long for Swiss to drift off, feeling Cirrus Jr. go deadweight on top of him provides just the right amount of pressure for his body to relax, and the even breathing of Dewdles and Drizzle sleeping provides a nice bit of ambient white noise...

Sunflower chatters at him lightly from her perch, wrapping her wings around herself, taking the others cue and closing her eyes as well...

"Swiss?"

A hand jostles him awake.

He's not sure how long it's been, but when he goes to open his eyes he...

He can't see shit.

He brings a hand to his face and startles when he feels something soft and squishy resting there.

"Meep."

Ah.

Dewdles.

The imp flops off of his face when he rises, rubbing his eyes.

Rain is standing over him, Drizzle already having wrapped himself around his shoulders, "The imps wear you out?"

Swiss shakes his hand, stretching and yawning.

"Not at all, man..."

He looks around.

Cirrus Jr. is still asleep between his feet, and Sunflower is...

He feels something move on top of his head, in his hair.

"Can you...?"

He gestures to where Sunflower has tangled her feet into his curls.

"Mn." Rain carefully untangles the imp from Swiss' hair, letting her dangle from his index finger, "Were they all good? Five imps is a lot to take care of at one time..."

"Yeah, yeah, five is-" Swiss pauses, "I was only watching four imps."

"Oh, uh..."

"What?"

"Your imp...?" Rain gestures over the back of the couch.

Swiss peeks over the edge.

Laying firmly against the back of the couch, in an awkward sploot is his imp.

His imp followed him out to the common room.

Seriosuly?

"Fuck."

"Swiss Miss doesn't usually leave your room, I'm surprised."

Swiss looks at Rain.

"Swiss... Swiss Miss?"

"Oh, we also call him Marshmallow sometimes, or Chunky Butt, because he begs for food like crazy in the morning..." Rain hums, "You didn't know that?"

"I didn't know it even had a name."

Rain blinks at him.

"Don't judge me, I don't like imps!"

Rain gestures at the pile of imps surrounding him.

"They like me, not the other way around!"

Dewdles pats his face with his tiny paw.

Placating.

"...You don't count. You're practically a rat."

"Mrrp."

"Rats are cool."

"Mrr, mrr..."

Rain snorts, "Says the man talking to one like that."

Swiss flushes, embarrassed.

"Shut."

[artistsfuneral]

The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.5

(canon typical violence below, mild)

Jaskier's breath caught in his throat and made him stumble. Unable to intervene he had to watch Aiden cast the familiar blue shock wave at the group of soldiers behind them. At once the men in front were thrown back, crashing into their fellow soldiers and creating a loud ruckus that made Jaskier's ears ring. Wind caught his hair, blinding him momentarily, as he cursed Aiden for his stupidity.

While the burst of Aard had certainly helped them to gain some distance from the soldiers, they could just have split up earlier than planned, to achieve the exact same thing. It took the soldiers hardly a minute before they were up and running again, this time yelling orders at each other about Aiden not being the White Wolf, but another witcher and therefore their new priority. Aiden who, despite him insisting on the opposite, was not yet fully recovered and still struggled with both his balance and restricted vision. Him being their primary target was a very bad, not good thing that would definitely lead to some unavoidable consequences. Jaskier cursed again, grabbed the witcher by his knotted sleeve and tucked him forcefully to the left, where the street parted into a busy crossroad. “Why on earth would you do that?!” He demanded to know, dodging a farmer's cart by a hair's length and pulling Aiden with him. The Cat could only look at him bewildered, Jaskier's worries completely flying past his head.

With a loud groan, the bard realized that Aiden, like every other damned witcher he had met before, had absolutely no sense for protecting himself. Jaskier had no idea, why he had thought otherwise in the first place. In that regard they all proved to be idiots again and again.

Finally reaching the market after what felt like forever, Jaskier zigzagged through the groups of people until he couldn't see the soldiers anymore. “Alright, we're splitting up now. You're of greater importance to them, because those prejudiced piss pots think you are stronger than me.” Aiden raised his eyebrows at that, but Jaskier didn't give him time to argue. “So don't get caught, alright? Be as inconspicuous as possible, disguise yourself if you can. I mean it, Aiden, I am not walking up that mountain on my own, because I will perish of boredom if you're not with me.”

“Whoa, there, shouldn't I be the one that worries about you?” The witcher asked, with a lopsided grin on his face. “You are a tiny, little human, after all.” Jaskier took a deep breath and let the imaginary weight fall off his shoulders. He knew he tended to be overprotective over his friends and family, but Aiden was right, he shouldn't worry too much about the other man. Cats were known for their excellent stealth. He'd probably scale the next building and hide away in the shadows of the rooftops until it was time for the two of them to meet at the other side of the city, were it adjoined the forest.

Feeling a little better about their situation, he grinned back at the witcher, “See you at sun-high.” And with one last wave, he dove into the crowds.

From then on everything felt a little bit easier. He was back in his element. Passing errand boys, dodging groups of chattering wives and stepping out of the way of heavily laden errand boys, Jaskier easily put more and more distance between him in the troop of soldiers, who's redanian armor made them stand out like donkeys among sheep. It was actually quite funny to watch them, how they stumbled around, fishing for some sort of authority the didn't have in a country that wasn't theirs. A troop of redanian soldiers against a single kaedweni innkeeper was one thing, but seeing them trying and failing to shoo away the three old women that were gossiping in front of a young lad that looked somewhat similar to Jaskier was the height of entertainment.

Despite his colorful outfit and obvious lute bag, hardly anyone spared him more than a glance. No matter what Geralt said, walking through a city with just enough confidence to look like you belonged there, but not too much to stand out, was an art form in itself. Truth be told, Jaskier might've only believed so because it took him years to perfect this skill. He was an expert in it now, though and when one of his pursuers came a bit too close to him, he calmly kept on walking, passing the man with just two other people between them. He followed the natural flow of people for a while, discreetly taking down every Wanted Notice with his name on it. Every now and then he tried to look up the rafters and roofs of houses that seemed rather climbable, without appearing too suspicious, but he never saw a hint of his Cat.

Maybe that was for the better, he willed his anxiousness to quieten. If he wasn't here, that only meant that he was already waiting somewhere in the forest. Sun-high wasn't that far away anyways.

He helped a young mother by picking up the knot doll her child had dropped and exchanged a couple of pleasant words while they walked closer towards the forest. Saying his goodbyes with a warm smile, Jaskier stepped off the main street and into a much smaller alley that lead to a few single story houses. He took his time to pet a tricolored barn cat, just as promised, before slowly but surely merging into the slim shadows. More and more aware of his bearings, he crept along the walls of houses and sheds, turning around and pretending to take a piss against a bush when a merchant rode by. Crude but effective. The only thing left that separated him from his goal was a wide dirt rode that carved around the forest.

Standing in the shade of a wooden canopy Jaskier remained still as a statue, eyes scanning through the underbrush, ears strained for any noise that didn't belong. The problem with that being, that everything inside a forest made noise and trying to figure out which once were normal sounds and which weren't usually fell into Geralt's domain. With his witcher hearing he could not only make out a rustling bush, but also listen for a heartbeat and identify it as either animal, human or monster. There was also the fact that Jaskier's sense of smell couldn't pick up anything than the stink of fox and the giant dung heap nearby.

In the end he just had to trust his instincts. And his instincts were telling him to worry.

It didn't take long for him to realize why.

It wasn't the forest that was off, it was the road. The sun was high in the sky, just starting to change from comfortably warm to hot, the market was full with all kinds of people and yet the road was empty. No wagons, no riders, not a single person to be seen. Someone was blocking off the path. Someone that held no authority over a crowd but could easily scare away any passerby. It could be a trap of course, but Jaskier had spent enough time singing in the barracks of Redania to know how they usually operated. The bard had always had a strong dislike for soldiers. Few of them were decent people these days. There was hardly anything knightly or chivalrous about them, as if they forgot what they were fighting for. Unlike them, Jaskier hadn't allowed himself to be controlled by his disdain and had followed his orders properly. Singing and performing in the barracks, listening in to every conversation that would meet his ears. He had learned a lot, almost too much, about how the soldiers really worked behind their pretenses. Cordoning off an area just big enough people on the outside wouldn't make out the noise their prisoners made when they were beat to a pulp, was certainly one of their favorites. There was an advantage though, Jaskier thought as he emerged from the canopy and walked right into the forest, nobody would be able to hear them screaming either. The only thing that kept him from smiling was the knowledge that whatever they had done to his Cat Witcher wouldn't be pretty.

And it really wasn't.

The camp, counting six tents and four horses, was built around an old tree, its trunk wide enough to withstand the hissing and spitting Cat Witcher that was chained to it. His linen shirt was torn during a fight, deep irregular gashes cut through his chest, the witcher's blood soaking into his clothes and the bandages underneath. Aiden was screaming with rage, struggling against his bindings without any sense to it, throwing his head from left to right, snapping his teeth at everyone that dared to come too close. His fangs were bloody, successful. To Jaskier's eyes it was almost alarmingly obvious that Aiden's aggression was mainly caused by pure fear and pain. The witcher's instincts had clearly taken over. He didn't even react to the bard when said one entered the camp. Five soldiers, one archer, turned towards him.

Oh I know. I know you want Jaskier to fight, but please take note, should you choose this, the next chapter will be detailed and violent. (and 100% skipable of course! I know not everyone likes to read that sort of stuff, don't worry, I got you!) The author craves blood.

Negotiating is always an option to keep this pg.

Also there's now a relationship bar in the drawing, so: Aiden/Lambert is set in stone for this fic, but Aiden/Jaskier or Aiden/Jaskier/Lambert is up to you, I will give you multiple chances for this, so don't worry.

please like and reblog if you voted✨🌿🌼✨

Told my brother about J and A hiding in the crowd of the market and he said „Erstmal ein Marktfrühstück und eine Weinschorle bestellen.“ and I was so tempted.

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[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter One: In the Dead of Night

Vladimir Makarov x Reader

The Long Road Masterlist

Summary: Soon after your fiance's murder you find yourself diving face first into enacting a plan to avenge his death. Regardless of your friend's approval, your wellbeing, livelihood, or future, you find yourself in it for the long-con.

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Violence, Guns, Death, Major MW3 Spoiler, Main Character Death, Grief, Loss, Angst, Anger, Hatred, Revenge, Dark Themes,

A/N: This is... sooooo self-indulgent and utterly crack, tbh. I'd thought it up a while ago and keep thinking about it. I kept trying to think of a way to make it realistic, but... I just feel like there is no way of doing that, so I'm just gonna write it. However it goes, it goes. Also fyi I am using google translate so I really hope it's coming out okay. I do speak Russian, but only Duolingo tiny bit. divider by @saradika

You were prepared for this, you knew it was bound to happen one day, you just didn't know when that day would be. It only looks like, now, it's finally come. As you sit at the counter, stirring the bowl of oatmeal you'd just made and are trying your best to get to cool down, you can't help but think about the man currently in the other room.

You'd expected an entrance something akin to that of a Mission Impossible movie: a loud boom, doors knocked down, guns blazing, venomous words shouted in a language you've hardly begun to understand despite the tedious month of learning to the best of your abilities. Thunder cracks in the distance, rattling the windowpane in the next room; you don't know when the heavy downpour started, but it hasn't given any sign of yield since his arrival only a half hour ago now. Part of you can't help but think back to the myths and legends your husband... husband--your fiance--you remind yourself, mentally scolding as this isn't the first, and you doubt it's the last time you're going to mentally interchange the two words. Part of you can't help but think back to the myths and legends your fiance used to tell you.

The rain reminds you of the the way the Vikings would personify the Norse Gods to Earthly elements. Sure, you know some of the comics, like Thor, and Loki... but nevertheless, with your upbringing, the heavy pounding of the rain against the tin roof and the approaching thunder only makes your thoughts drift back to him. Johnny.

What would he think? What would he do? If he knew you were here... Maybe it's the spiritual part of you that never quite left, possibly having been ingrained from your grandparents when you were younger, or an aunt, an uncle of some sort, perhaps... but you think he'd do something silly like this. Come back as a thunderstorm, manifesting himself as something so threatening and dangerous, symbolizing his distress, unhappiness, and worry for you with torrents of rain, yet trying to protect you from the beyond even with lightning. Yet, you know that's impossible, and certainly not the case. Your heart begins to ache once more as you think of him, not wanting to get caught up, again, in the overwhelming grief you hadn't fully let yourself fall into. This is for him, you remind yourself once again.

"What are you giving her?" The voice comes from the doorway, and you're not entirely surprised by the venom in his tone, albeit taken aback. While he's not loud due to the (presumably) resting woman in the next room, you know that the lack of volume doesn't mean he wouldn't yell if the situation were anywhere else.

"What do you mean? This?" You quirk an eyebrow as you continue to stir in the little additives you'd put into the oatmeal: honey, sugar, and a pinch of salt. "It's oatmeal?" You explain, the confusion obvious in your tone as you hold the bowl up a bit, angling it for him to better see. As if the man has never seen oatmeal in his life; the thought would elicit a whirlwind of laughter from you any other time, or, more accurately, if it were any other person... but this was him. Makarov.

Vladimir Makarov: Thirty-six years old; born in Moscow Russia. Commander of Konni; the ultranationalistic private 'military contractor' group.

You'd done what research you could, found what information you had access to, some you didn't. Utilized what connections, resources, and favors were owed to you. Maybe some of them did it out of pity, out of guilt, or some other sense of failure on behalf of the SAS. Regardless, you'd set your plans into action, intent on making your promise to your late fiance come true. You will kill the man before you. It won't be today. No. After all, that'd be too soon, you have to earn his trust first. Only then, after he's comfortable, and settled, will you pursue your slow and agonizing torture.

"Христос," he curses, "she said you're poisoning her," he speaks slowly, a menacing quality to his tone as he unravels the crossed arms from his chest. Anger is evident in his irises as he stalks toward you with each step, eyebrows in a thick and harsh line. "I ask again-"

"The medication? Is that what you're talking about?" You ask. Feeling your own anger continuing to effervesce in your gut, you turn to face him on the stool, sliding from the counter. While he's still a couple feet away, you have to be more than a handful of feet shorter than him. Of that, you're sure. "Because from what I've deduced so far from being here, she bribed the last caretaker to not give her the medication on the agreement that she'd get more time off!"

He shifts his weight onto his left foot, eyes widening ever so imperceptibly, yet he remains quiet, so you continue. "They gave me her medication, told me to give it to her twice a day, so I'm doing that because she's been prescribed that medication. She clearly needs it, as per her doctor's orders. So unless you think the doctor isn't right, then, that's not my problem! I, however, am not surprised if she's telling you that since she obviously didn't even want me here in the first place."

Rounding the counter, you continue about your--at this point it could be considered daily--routine. Hand grasping your cool blue glass of water, you take a few sips while silently studying him. Despite having infiltrated his life and unknowingly (to him, ethically) disposed of his mother's last caretaker, you haven't officially met your late fiance's murderer till tonight.

KILLER

Slaughterer...! You destroyed him... You took him away from me. You're the reason he's gone. All the thoughts continue to run through your head rampantly, and you can't help but turn to face the wall opposite of him. Pretending to be busy with some of the drying dishes, you try to calm yourself. Acting on impulse and emotion will get you nowhere, you know this.

A heavy sigh permeates the silence that'd fallen between you, and there are the following taps of approaching dress shoes against hardwood floors. Quickly turning to make sure he neither invades your personal space nor dares to touch you, you're met with the visage of Makarov slumped at the counter, head in his hands.

You don't speak, you don't know what to say. Silence fills the space between you. Seeing him like this is weird considering all the stories you'd heard about him. Though you suppose even the most evil of men are still that... human. "How long have you worked as a caretaker?" He suddenly questions.

"A few years," you answer, swallowing the anxiety that starts to bubble up in your throat. "I started as a nurse and thought maybe I'd become a doctor, but it was... too much for me, and... not what I wanted to do. I discovered I liked helping people better as a nurse." It's not all lies, in fact, most of it is true. The only thing that meets your admission is silence, and that fact only raises the tension building within the cottage. Wincing at the rumbling outside, the sound does nothing to help the obvious discomfort you're experiencing finally facing him in person.

"And would you say you're good at your job?" He asks, eyes slightly narrowed in questioning as he slowly raises his head from his hands. The intensity of his dark brown eyes scream hostility and a hurt you can't immediately place your fingers on. Yet despite it all you refuse to waiver underneath his gaze.

"Yes. They wouldn't send me all the way out here otherwise. Not with a case like hers, Sir," you reply.

"Then what-" he tests, pronouncing each word clearly, "would you suggest I do?" He asks. There's a slight breathiness to his voice; with the thin windows, you can't help but feel as though the torrents of northern lake air through the meadow with its water.

Eyebrow raising in response, you're honestly shocked he'd ask such a thing. You're a complete stranger! A whirlwind of emotions go through you; excitement, bewilderment, shock, curiosity... you can't get ahead of yourself. With a sigh out, you shake your head. It may come across like disappointment to him, but really, it's to clear your head and collect yourself.

"Look... it's not something anyone wants to hear, bu-"

"Tell me!" He interrupts, demanding.

"But..." you emphasize, considering you were only putting up polite pretenses for show anyhow. "Really, family members do better when they're living with the family, even with caretakers to help. Whether you can't do it because you're busy or have other priorities, I understand."

"But at the end of the day, family members usually pass more quickly estranged like this on their own in a separate house because they feel lonely and like no one comes to visit. Maybe they have no one, or maybe they feel like they have nothing to live for anymore? She said you only visit her once or twice a year, if that... and while you write letters, that sometimes isn't enough for people, unfortunately. If you really want the truth."

Finished while your spiel, you shift your weight to the other foot as you place the finished oatmeal on the tray you reserve for his Mother. While, yes, you may despise him to the end's of the Earth... his Mother didn't do anything besides give birth to him. You accepted that the night you met her. Afraid to take another sip of your water, you stand in waiting, observant as Makarov seems to silently process everything you've said, his eyes shifting back and forth for a moment.

"I'll be back," he declares before sliding from the stool and rounding the corner into the small living space his Mother used to use more frequently. Shoulders sagging, a breath leaves you that you hadn't realized you'd been holding in. Onto your nightly routine with dinner, you attempt to distract yourself from the continuous torment of thunderstorm outside, meanwhile inside you can hear urgent demands in Russian faintly from the next room. It's clear he's on the phone... but with who? His goons, of course... right? Who else? But to kill you? To background check you? Do you need to prepare to flee?

As you stir the pot of soup you've just put on the stove, you can feel yourself start to sweat and panic. In an attempt to switch gears, you finish her dinner. Oatmeal ready, medication on the tray, you grab the lemonade you two had made the day prior and pour a glass for her before getting a steady grip on the tray and taking it down the hall. With a gentle rap of your foot as best you can against the doorframe, you announce your presence.

"Привет, Как вы себя чувствуете?" You ask, knowing the word for 'hi' and having figured out early on with the help of technology to ask how she's feeling.

"лучше теперь, когда он здесь." She responds with a soft but tired smile. It's a good sign that she's sitting up and alert at this time of night too. You don't understand the first part of what she says as she's talking too fast and you also don't have your phone out to capture what she says into your real time translation app, however you can grasp the last part. 'He's here.'

Placing the tray down on her lap, you shake your head and signal behind you with a frown. A second attempt, pointing to her, you give her a thumbs up and a smiling face for a moment, and then do the opposite. With a thumbs down and a sad face, you try again. "как дела?"

With a wave of her hand, she shakes her head now with a chuckle. "хорошо," she responds, lifting the spoon. "мой Володя!"

Whipping your head around, you find him standing there leaning against the doorframe most likely having been observing the two of you. Hopefully not for long... or maybe not at all since she would've said something. "она так просто с тобой разговаривает?" He says to his Mother, walking up to the bed and into her outstretched arms for the hug she craves.

"она не очень хорошо говорит по-русски," she quietly answers, holding him tightly for a moment, rubbing his back before letting go. With a pat on the bed next to her, she looks between the two of you. "My baby," she struggles to pronounce the word, "Vladimir." A proud smile sits upon her lips for a moment as she gestures to him. He smiles at her, too, and you nod.

"Yes, да. I have met your son just briefly. But it is good to officially meet," you tell her, even if you know she doesn't understand all of it. Shifting your gaze, he meets it with animosity. "Vladimir," you repeat.

"My mother tells me you are," he repeats your name, to which you nod, "it's a pleasure to officially meet you. Now that you're both here, I have news."

"News?" The question pops out of your mouth before you can stop it.

"Yes, news. Since you're taking care of my mother, you technically work for me. What you said stuck with me. You're right-" he shifts his speaking from you to his mother. "I've been a bad son to you, Mama. ты собираешься жить со мной." Again, he shifts his focus back to you. "We have to pack. You will both live on my compound from now."

~~~~~~~~

acronyms|translations:

Христос = christ

Привет = hi

Как вы себя чувствуете = how are you feeling

лучше теперь, когда он здесь = better now that he's here.

как дела = how are you

хорошо = good / fine / ok

мой Володя = my voldoya (nickname for vladimir)

она так просто с тобой разговаривает = she speaks to you so simply

она не очень хорошо говорит по-русски = she does not speak very much Russian

да = yes

ты собираешься жить со мной = you're coming to live with me

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

[knickynoo]

what do you think alternate 1985 Marty was like?

Ok, so, I LOVE thinking about 1985A Marty!! We see him for a bit in the "Biff to the Future" comics, but I've mentioned before that I feel like they sort of dropped the ball there. There was so much they could have done with Alt '85 Marty, and they honestly didn't do much. He was just...Marty. And while I like the idea that a lot of who Marty is remains the same no matter the timeline, I have a hard time believing such an awful upbringing wouldn't impact him in some way. Some thoughts!

• I do think there would be that element of "Marty is Marty," even with growing up in '85A. At his core, Marty is kind. He's protective of his loved ones, strives to do the right thing, and puts others first. I don't think that would change.

• However, I see '85A Marty maybe having to hide those characteristics under a bit of a hardened shell. This is out of necessity and a result of being exposed to a lot of horrible things from a young age. He was so little when George died, so likely all he remembers is a world where Biff is his step-father, his mother is miserable, and violence is a daily occurrence. That good heart is still there, but Marty figures out pretty quickly that he's got to keep it under wraps a bit if he's going to survive.

• It's interesting because while our Movie!Marty is a fairly anxious little guy, I don't see '85A Marty as really having any significantly higher anxiety levels. I mean, you would think he'd be a barely functioning anxious mess, but I actually think all the pressure and stress and fear would force him into a state of "I can't waste TIME worrying." He becomes a very take-charge person. Focused on whatever situation is currently taking priority while the anxiety takes a back seat.

• As Alt Biff says in part II, Marty is absolutely a "little hothead." He tries to be careful, and he's able to tread lightly when needed, but it's just not possible in certain situations. Mainly, these are situations involving his mother's safety and well-being. If she's being threatened or hurt, he just does what's needed to help, even if it means he's going to pay for it after.

• Though Lorraine does her very best to protect and care for Marty, there are times she simply can't. And when it gets to be too much and she's lost in the sadness and alcohol, Marty steps in to be there for her. In a way, he learns how to act as a parent of sorts from a young age, guiding and taking care of his mom when she needs it. With Dave and Linda's own issues (and the fact that they're rarely around), he's often all Lorraine has.

• The moment Marty was shipped off to his first boarding school, he started acting out and doing whatever he could to get himself kicked out. He knew it was Biff's way of getting rid of him—taking away Lorraine's main source of protection—and wasted no time in sabotaging the plan. In some ways, it was hard for Marty because he really had to do some bad stuff (and it tugged solidly at his conscience) but he had no choice. He had to get back to his mother. So, every time Biff sent him somewhere new, Marty immediately got to work making himself a Nightmare Student. He gets very good at causing trouble. I think he also forms alliances with other students who become aware of his situation and help him to get kicked out as well.

• So. I have this hc that just popped into my brain where Biff actually tries to like...mold Marty into taking after him when Marty is little? Because Marty is so young and impressionable when George dies and Biff enters the picture, I can see Biff being like, "Maybe I can get the kid on my side." And it's not even that he likes or cares about Marty, he just sees someone he can turn into an heir of his twisted empire. Even have it be a slap in the face to George's memory to have his youngest son turn into a mini Biff Tannen. But Marty is stubborn, loyal, and sees right through Biff, so he resists every act Biff tries to put on to impress him. In turn, this makes Biff hate Marty even more in the long run.

• In the comics, there's a secret resistance group that keeps trying to find ways to take Biff down. George and Doc were both part of it, and I like to imagine that Marty gets involved in some way as well. He's a source of valuable information since he lives with Biff, and I think Marty also does a whole lot of sneaking around to keep up to date on what Biff is up to. He doesn't tell Lorraine about his involvement, though, because he doesn't want to put her in danger if Biff grows suspicious, but Lorraine definitely knows. She just turns the other way and silently prays nothing bad will happen.

• Marty has a tough time in terms of how the citizens of Hill Valley see him. He's disliked by a lot of people automatically because he's Biff's stepson, and they're wary of him. They don't know if he can be trusted. Others simply assume he's a spoiled brat living a cushy life with a rich family and resent him for having it so good while the rest of the town crumbles. So, he has very few friends.

I'm sure I could go on, but I'll stop there. I'd like to write a fic someday that focuses on 1985A Marty because he really does fascinate me. Thanks for the ask!

[jess-the-vampire]

Out of curiosity, what’s your take on what would’ve happened if Caleb won the knife fight and ended up killing Philip instead?

i've seen multiple different takes on the idea, and it's def something that depends on your interpretation of caleb as a character.

cause while we know some things about him, caleb, in a lot of ways, is extremely moldable as a character. It kinda makes a lot of the arguments about what caleb did, would do, and probably did, a lot more pointless to even have because outside of a few stuff because we have very little grasp on him and his personality.

Like it's hard to claim anyone's view on him is "Wrong" because no one really truly knows who caleb was, they can only rely on what they are given and try to fill in the blanks.

For me, i interpret caleb as a lot more morally conflicted, some people think he would flat out disown philip and beat down on him had he lived, but i think caleb would've felt more like he failed his own brother.

He had been responsible for him, he had lied to him, and he is well aware philip grew up under prejudiced and dangerous conditions. So i think even in a situation where philip tried to do what he did, and failed, caleb would see philip's behavior as a failing of his own part and probably his death too.

Like this is still his baby brother after all, he was responsible for raising him and putting him on a good path and instead it led him to meet this fate.

Whether you interpret philip's response as thinking his brother was bewitched or as a response to believing his brother flat out abandoned him....either response could make caleb feel philip's death was a failure on his part as a brother.

that he wasn't there for his brother as he should of been, that he neglected him and drove him down this path that led to him dying, that his choice to be selfish in leaving lost him someone important.

and may affect how he parents in the future too, given how his own brother turned out, might make him question if he'd even be a good parent.

these are elements that are even in my arofam au but yeah, i am of the mind had caleb lived, he'd see philip as a lot more of a failure of his own part rather then showcasing a ton of anger towards him.

and it would affect him throughout the rest of his life.

some people think caleb should share nothing but hatred towards philip, but given caleb's role in philip's life to protect and guide him, something he seems to have made the choice to stop doing for himself....i feel he would look back on philip's reaction as a fault on himself for making that choice and failing to do that for him rather then completely blame philip.

he'd question philip a bit, but have a harder time being as angry as people think he should be.

whether you think he should or not, i certainly think he'd FEEL that way, rather then show intense hatred for philip reacting to the situation within how he was taught.

Some people are of the mindset caleb did try or had tried to help philip and philip didn't take it, but there's just nothing to really say that for sure within the show itself. And truth be told, i still don't think it would stop caleb from thinking he could of done more.

Going through life conflicted because he feels terrible and sad and angry, and not sure how much he aims at philip or himself.

i think he'd still visit his grave often despite it.

Again, caleb is a lot like an oc for the most part, so people are gonna have different outlooks on his personality, but i personally see him coming out scarred emotionally and dealing with a lot of internal guilt as a response.

[itjazzbicch]

Have You

Pairing: Lee Chaolan x Fem Reader 

Summary: Being a high-ranked employee at Violet Systems, Lee has always taken an interest in the reader, but due to her past, she tries to block him out but opens up on Christmas Eve when she realizes Lee's pure feelings within his gift for her...

Requested by: @sacredwarrior88 (I hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas!)

Warnings:  SMUT! (18+ ONLY! MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!) 

Word Count: 1.6k 

"You're still here, Y/N? It's Christmas Eve!"

"Yeah, so?" As a high-ranked official in Violet Systems, work was always my number one priority, even on holidays, which my boss, Lee Chaolan, was sometimes astonished by.

"It won't hurt to get out of this place, you know?" Trying to persuade me, I wasn't even looking at him, only at my monitor as he popped up behind me and proposed, "How about we go look at some Christmas lights? Come on, my dear."

Rolling my eyes, I should've known he'd try to work his charm on me, considering all the times he's tried to romance me, ignoring him, but he was persistent:

"How about a Christmas gift? I've got you something that you've been wanting! I'll be nice and let you have it now, hm?"

Now I was curious, side-eyeing him because I didn't tell anyone what I wanted for Christmas. He finally earned my attention, turning my chair around and smiling as he went to another room:

"Just sit tight!"

Letting out a deep sigh, I could only imagine that this 'gift' would be entirely out of my element or he'd make this about himself. Despite my doubts, I stayed silent and let him bring a box to me:

"Merry Christmas!"

"Thanks," I mumbled, placing the box on my lap. It was light, and I was a bit more curious, opening the red and gold box to be stunned.

"Sooo," He couldn't stop smiling at my reaction, looking into the box to see the final piece I needed for a robotics project I had been working on for a long time. It was tough to find and very expensive. I thought it would be impossible to find, "Do you like it?"

"A-Are you serious? Is this real?" I almost couldn't believe it, being delicate while examining it. "Oh, it's real," He winked, pointing something else out too, "There's more in there too."

Looking into the box again, there was a slim, folded piece of paper. A brochure? Not a brochure, but tickets and all the information I needed for a week's vacation at a fabulous resort in the Philippines.

"That lasts until a year if you don't want to go immediately," Lee explained, smiling more as he knew me well, "Maybe after you finish that big project."

"Wow, I-" No one had ever given me such a gift, my smile genuine as I looked up at him, "Thank you, Lee. I appreciate this so much."

"You deserve it," He smiled back, offering again, "So, let's enjoy the holiday, hm?"

His gift showed how he knew me and cared, so I let the wall I always had up down a little, turning back to my desk, "Just let me secure this piece, and we can look at lights."

Doing so, I had to hide my laugh as I heard him cheering to himself, but after securing the robotic piece, we got our coats and headed out to find a snowy night sky.

"It really feels like Christmas, don't you say?"

"Yeah," Looking up at the snow falling, glistening past all the holiday lights that colored the night, the Christmas spirit was contagious, "It's beautiful."

Our walk was lovely and peaceful, pointing out some rather flashy decorations, giggling and smiling at some jokes Lee was making, but a strong, freezing wind made me seize up, hugging my body.

"Geez, guess it's going to be cold tonight, huh?"

"Here," Taking off his jacket and wrapping me in it, I was protected from the cold, but saying to Lee as he was left in just his dress shirt:

"It's okay, really. You should be wearing a jacket."

"I'll be just fine," He assured, his kindness making me smile again, "You don't have a far walk home, right? Let's get out of the cold."

Nodding and walking to my apartment, the freezing wind was growing stronger, and as we made it to my doorstep, the tip of Lee's nose was red, but he was still focused on me:

"Did you have fun?"

"I did," I meant, loosening up a little and offering, since he'd done so much for me tonight, "Come inside and warm up, Lee. I have a fireplace."

Being so open took him aback slightly, but still cheerful and honest as he shivered inside, "Thanks. That wind was strong."

I had to giggle because I knew he was struggling without his jacket, but I made up for that by lighting the fireplace in the living room, having him sit and warm up, and getting us two cups of hot chocolate.

"This will help too," Bringing the drinks over and sitting with him, his nose no longer read and a smile on his face as he took his cup:

"Thank you."

"Of course," I sipped mine, staring at the fireplace, spacing out a little as I thought deeply.

"You okay?" He whispered, only checking on me, and I didn't expect my emotions to hit me like they did when I admitted:

"I'm fine. It's just been years since anyone's spent Christmas with me. It feels-; It's so nice. Thank you again for everything."

As our eyes locked, we couldn't stop smiling at one another to the point where we started laughing. I had to put my cup down, looking as Lee opened his arms up to me, pointing out that it was now midnight:

"Merry Christmas!"

For the first time, I hugged him, and it felt so right. I thought about all the times I had been such a grinch towards him; my past had made me close up so much, but deep down inside, I knew I could open up with him, repaying him for all my attitude that he's had to deal with by kissing his cheek softly:

"Merry Christmas."

Caressing my cheek, I was floating on a cloud headed for heaven as his lips found mine, so soft and tender against mine. My heart was overwhelmed, pressing my lips harder as my eyes shut tighter, not noticing the tear rolling down my cheek.

When that tear met his hand, he pulled back to check on me, thinking he messed up at first:

"I'm sorry-"

"It's okay. I promise," I breathed in deep, more tears swelling as I met his gaze to explain, "I just have a bad past with men, but you-; You-; You are-"

I couldn't find the words to explain it, and Lee showed that we didn't need words with a simple instruction:

"Come here, dear."

Resting back in his arms, I held his face as I kissed him, a craving taking over me and guiding him back onto the couch. Each kiss told how I only wanted someone who wanted me for me, and I was sure I found that in Lee.

Straddling over him and sitting up for a deep breath, we were stuck smiling at each other again, Lee noticing:

"I think tonight's the first time I've seen you smile."

"All thanks to you," I cooed, feeling the mood in the air, whispering an important question, "Do you truly want me, Lee?"

"You and only you," He cooed back, in a trance, as I took off my shirt, skin highlighted from the fire, coming back to kiss him and unbutton his shirt, tongues clashing passionately.

Sitting us up, we both stripped out of our clothes, Lee guiding me back to his lap, rubbing over every inch of skin he could reach, kissing:

"I've always known how special you are."

With his hands on my hips, I pressed my forehead against his, feeling a slight ache as his tip began to stretch me, letting me work at my own pace as I adjusted to his girth, slowly rolling my hips and working to take more inches.

"Oh my god," I was worked up from all the slickness I felt between my thighs, hips rolling smoother and a bit quicker, then sitting on all his cock, gasping at how deep he was in me, "Lee!"

"Stay just like that," He cooed, peppering my neck with kisses, rocking my hips back and forth at a steady, even pace, his mouth falling to my breast, closing around my nipple and sucking.

It had been so long for me, my tingling nerves jolting through my head to my toes. All these feelings weren't just from the sex but from the fact that I finally had someone who could make me happy.

By the time he picked his head up, my entire chest had been glistening from kisses, and the way he looked into my eyes drove me wild, his hands digging into my hips when I suddenly started to bounce on his cock, getting a moan to spill out of him.

He kept his eyes on me, loving the view, but his head fell back as he grinned:

"Damn, Y/N."

That made me feel confident, just smirking and returning some kisses on his neck, leaving some marks, his hands sliding down to my ass, squeezing and kneading, then throwing up his hips, making me hug his head.

"Oooo! Lee!"

Hugging my waist and thrusting up again, brushing past my sweet spot, made my walls clench up harder and harder each time, my moans growing louder and mixing with soft whines.

"I have you, baby," He cooed, kissing my cheek, a hand running up my back and holding my head against his, whispering in my ear, "Let it all go. Cum for me."

"Just don't stop," I whined, squeezing his head as my back snapped into an arch, his thrusts growing faster as I gushed around his cock, the friction following with an aftershock, making me squirm and tremble slightly, jaw-dropping at the so many feelings that swirled in my head, only able to process the same words, "Oh my god, Lee. Oh my god."

"As I said," Easing down to a still, he knew I needed a moment to regain myself, brushing the little hairs away from my face, kissing my nose, "I have you."  

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