#nobody got hit with sticks i promise <3

[furcorn]

they are having an earth island moment

[lovejosephquinn]

I apologise in advance 💀 my filthy, smutty brain cannot compute so I wrote it out into an imagine to make me feel better, news flash; I do not feel better 👀

Under 18's DNI.

Imagine Joe and reader in the club, he promised to be well behaved and that was until the 3 rounds of tequila shots. You're dancing with your friend whilst Joe watches you from the bar grabbing your next round, your particularly favourite song blasts through the speakers and you begin to shake your hips, hands in the air, screaming every lyric; to him nobody has ever looked sexier.

Joe can't help but move towards you heading straight behind you, brushing your hair over to one shoulder, clutching his fingers onto your waist and tilts forward to kiss your neck; hitting every sweet spot he can expertly find, his tongue lingering over your skin cells which erupt into goose bumps everywhere the muscle comes into contact with, his hips grinding into yours sporadically. You swerve round quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck giving him a partially flirtatious look.

"I thought I told you to be a good boy."

"I can't help it when you look like that." Joe grabs your hand taking you into a quiet hallway up the stairs; leaving your friends behind, the sign reads next to you Staff Only. It quite clearly could be a place you may be caught at anytime; the alcohol induced confidence makes you not give a fuck in the slightest.

The next thing you know, Joe cages you between him and the wall, crashing his lips and pushing his now bulging erection into you. "What would it take for me to take you into the toilet and let me have my way with you?"

You palm your hand onto his cock, rubbing harshly, hearing him groan into your ear. Giving him exactly what he wanted. Meanwhile his hand disappears up the bottom of your dress, pushing your panties to the side and sliding his fingers straight into your entrance, fucking your cunt two fingers deep, your walls clenching and your thighs giving way. Your almost public foreplay is dangerous yet so inconspicuous.

"Answer my question, pretty girl."

You challenged him. "Tell me what you want to do to me Joey."

Joe's free hand took you by the throat, wrapping the thickness of his fingers delicately around it, the veins in his fists flexing proudly.

"I'm going to pick you up, ram your panties in your mouth since you don't understand the meaning of silence when my cock stretches and fills your tight, wet little cunt so perfectly." The way you moaned just from his filthy words alone, he had you like putty in his hands literally.

"Then I'm going to fuck you so hard until you can't take anymore." His fingers curled up just at the end of the sentence, your hole gaped as he shoved a third finger inside.

"And just so you're aware, you aren't going anywhere until I fill you up and you're reminded who's cockhungry slut you are."

You gasped as he stretched his fingers out inside of you, you could've finished there and then. That was until he took them out, the smell of you filling the air as he pushed the three digits into your mouth, letting you sample your fluid. Pushing his mouth onto yours shortly after, dominating his tongue slipped in receiving your saliva and pussy juice that lingered, his breathy growl made you gasp.

"Face up to it, you're fucking ready for me right now love."

His malicious smile got you every time, the way his dimples exposed themselves and his eyes sparkle in the dimmed lighting, pupils dilated and cock practically throbbing beneath his clothing, leaking and aching to be encased where it belongs.

"Actions speak louder than words." You snarled, biting down onto your bottom lip, watching his eyes flutter down, he wasn't willing to hearing another word from you until he had your legs trembling, your panties were being pulled up and his cum was dribbling out your sodden and freshly fucked hole.

Joe got you in the stall within a matter of seconds, pushing your panties down to your feet, picking them up and sticking the soggy underwear into your mouth as promised, his trousers and boxers now down by his shoes, taking his thick member into his hand, jerking it for good measure and lifting you upward in one swift motion as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Jolting you down to practically sit on him, no adjustment needed your slippery walls inviting him straight in, his hips began to buck into you rampantly. Your teeth gripping to the material as muffled moans escaped you, the way his tip was pressing against you, his strong arms keeping you held in a perfect position meant he was able to fuck into you as hard as he wanted to. Joe bit down onto your shoulder, stifling his moans and leaving marks against it. Your hands snatched at his curls, tugging them sharply, his mouth moved back to your neck, bruising you and marking his territory, not that he needed to, it was clear who you belonged to.

His thrusts became sloppy when your walls clenched against him, he could feel the way your cunt twitched around him, leaking your sodden mess and dripping out onto his balls whilst you rode through your orgasm. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your soul left your body for that moment, it could almost be seen above watching the two of you at it like a pair of caged animals.

"Yes you fucking whore, take my cock, god- I-"

Joe couldn't give anymore, he bounced your hips to hit as deep as he could get, one last thrust saw him burst inside your already messy space. You both groaned at the way his seed spurt out inside of you, milking every last drop whilst he lingered inside of you, his body spasming through his sensitive climax.

Taking your panties out of your mouth, Joe's smirk returned and he pushed his lips back to yours, kissing you so passionately, the way you fell breathless into each others mouths, the stench of sex in the air, the way you both looked fucked out.

"You'll be the death of me, my love." He sighed, gaining his regular oxygen flow.

"Hey, you started it." You giggled.

"And I finished it too, like the 'good boy' I am." Joe winked at you playfully, releasing himself and slowly putting you down to the ground.

"Oh yeah? Such a good boy."

[val-cansalute]

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch. 1

ch. 2

ch. 3

ch. 4

ch. 5

ch. 6

a/n: short first chapter 🫤 also BORING AS FOCK but the next few will be longer and better, just stick with me cw: implied depression/ptsd, dark themes, not too heavy but please don’t read if this might trigger you, angst, no smut in this chapter but there might be some later on, creds to cafekitsune for dividers, MDNI 😡

Six months ago today, your gaunt figure limped through Jackson for the first time, arms scarred and trembling, and face adorned with a vacant expression. You’ve been here for a while now.

You heard Maria say, with time, you’d come out of your shell - actually speak to the others. But, no, you still stay holed up in your decaying room, recalling what happened that day obsessively, and only ever leaving to go on patrol. Only when you absolutely have to.

God, you don’t even know if you can call this grief anymore. Seems as though you built a nest in the sorrow. Would it still be considered missing him if you desperately want to stop seeing his face whenever you close your eyes.

Fuck, don't say that. Never say that.

Promise I still love you, big brother. Promise I'd do anything to see you again.

Well, nobody really pays you any mind; you just sink into the shadows of the shitty little apartment you've been put in. And it doesn’t matter to you because the thought of getting close to people again makes you sick anyway.

Never wanna feel this pain. Never again. Fuck, just go away, please.

I'm so sorry, Soren.

You’ve waited it out for months but, at this point, you've given up hope. Feels like maybe it’s time to go be on your own. You know it’s dumb, but you haven’t got much to live for now that he’s gone.

Late night, you crawl into the comfort of misery, chaining yourself to each painful memory; you cannot leave a single shard behind. Not one.

You will carry this with you for the rest of your days.

Somewhere along the line, dark fades to light and your mind goes blank for the first time in an eternity as you get up to follow that same routine.

Today, same as yesterday, and yesterday's yesterday, and yesterday's yesterday's yesterday, etc., etc., your partner is Ellie.

Maria seems to think the two of you are acquaintances, especially since the extroverted people around your age hadn't been able to drag much more than a few words out of you, but you don’t really talk, you stay out of each other’s ways.

You struggle to keep the smile up against the pushback of your aching cheeks when you’re talking to other people. Can never let them see.

Not even for a good reason. God, it’s just such an effort to talk about. It’s better for it to just nestle in your mind, where it’s made it’s home, where it’s comfortable.

Maybe part of why you stay out of each other’s ways is because you'd inadvertently come off as a dick during your first encounter, which would've been enough to push the already closed off Ellie to not interact with you at all. You weren't actually being rude though; she's hopefully figured that out at this point. She probably just got used to the interactions between you; silence dusted with passive aggressive remarks.

But, she doesn’t say much when you freak the fuck out if a clicker comes at you in a way that brings back memories. You’re grateful, regardless of her reason for doing so.

Perhaps it's the thought of leaving that is the spur to prick your sudden violence and, now, even you can tell you're getting worse. The feeling - it ensnares you like a bear trap when you see a clicker, so you fire frantically at its head. Blood splatters all over your front and you pull at the hem of your shirt to get a better look, mumbling, "Shit..." when you see the white fabric soaked through with the clicker's blood; cold water to the face.

Among the chaos, you must have turned on your foot weirdly, because your ankle feels like a stake has been stabbed right through it with each movement and you don’t know if you can walk.

Ellie finally manages to trace the sound of the gunshot to you after calling your name in worry for the past couple of minutes, running over to you. She pulls you around and looks over your jittery body for anything to worry about - brushes a thumb over the wet material, jerking it away before you can notice; you’re hyper aware, so you always manage to anyway - and then furrows her brows at you.

“Can you stop fucking around?”

You nod apologetically,

"Sorry. Feeling a bit out of it today..."

She sighs, still clearly angry, and turns away, "Let's go. We’re done here.”

You watch her figure retreat as you mount your horse with shaky footing. The ride back is a silent one. Once you reach the gates, you get off and pat the horse’s side. It has a name; you never cared to learn it. Maybe you knew you couldn’t stick around for long.

“Come on. Why are you just standing there?"

When your eyes meet hers, you feel utterly pathetic, but you don't have much of a choice.

“Can you… find, like, a stick? A big one...”

She stays quiet for a moment, seemingly thrown off by your question, so you're quick to add,

“I would do it but... I don't know, fuck, never mind...”

Ellie raises an eyebrow at you, her line of sight flicking down to your ankle as she takes note of your awkward stance and mutters with a sigh that makes you feel small, "Pain in the ass," before shaking her head.

"Yeah, it looks pretty bad," Ellie says after she crouches down and touches the wound, eliciting a pained wince (and a farewell to your last shred of dignity) from you.

She rises to her feet and brushes herself off as you wait for more of a response.

"Stick, right? You want a stick?"

You nod with a clenched jaw. She keeps looking down at you and the constant anticipation is starting to piss you off.

"No, you gonna ask for what you really need?" she says. "And drop the whole ‘tough guy’ act?"

You chuckle dryly, turning your eyes to the floor.

"You ever considered that maybe I actually am just a tough guy?"

“Ha ha,” she states in monotone, “Think you gave away the fact that you're not when you started crying over a twisted ankle," to which you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Uh, okay, nothing you just said was true, but, sure. Sure.”

“Yeah? Come over here and say that with some heart then, tough guy.”

You manage to take a few steps before falling.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought. Gonna need to be carried back," Ellie says.

“What about the big ass stick?”

“What is i-Fuck. Listen, even if that helps, which it won’t, you’d wreck your ankle even more and everyone’d be on my ass about it. So, quit talking and get over here," she says, reaching over to lift you off the floor.

You grimace jokingly, but Ellie doesn’t pick on the humorous nature of your words, “Oh. No piggyback?”

Ellie sighs, turning and crouching in front of you before you get on.

"I swear to god, you're infuriating," she sneers. "Now put your arms around my neck."

You’re acting slightly outside the confines of your silent, gloomy self again, and pretend to strangle her, “Since you asked so nicely.”

And you laugh at your own joke as you properly wrap your arms around her neck

"I'm glad you're having a good time; at least one of us is enjoying ourselves,” she grits out but you can hear the repressed smile in her voice.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

"Good. Now shut up and enjoy the ride." Ellie says before turning her gaze back to the front.

As the two of you make your way through the fairly empty paths of Jackson, Ellie remains silent, her expression unreadable.

You keep your eyes focused on her, the small puff of air that leaves her mouth with each step, and staying quiet as your chin finds itself resting casually upon her shoulder

After a few minutes of walking in silence, Ellie finally speaks up again. Her voice is so close, the warmth of her breath and heat.

“You got them girls off your ass yet?”

“Who? The ones that are trying to... befriend me?”

“Mhm, the ones that you’re kinda friends with.”

“Yeah, they quit trying.”

"Don’t blame you… I mean, I can understand, but don’t make it too obvious.”

“I’d rather not-“

“Right, it’s just- well, if you want to be alone, fine. I… can even… make sure those assholes don’t bother you, or whatever- but, not on patrol! Don’t go wandering around on your own like that ever again. It’s dumb."

“I know, I just got caught up in the moment. Sorry.”

"Good."

A heavy silence befalls the two of you as she trudges on.

"Why are you so damn heavy?" she eventually mutters.

You lift your head off her shoulder reflexively, aware of your weight pulling her down all of a sudden,

“Sorry.”

Ellie looks over her shoulder at you, her eyebrows knitted in unexpected concern,

“Hey… I was kidding.”

“Right… I knew that…”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever," she says. "Hm, look at that, we made it," gently patting your thigh before pushing the doors open. "Time to get off."

You slowly slide off her back, making sure to land on your good leg as you watch her search the area curiously in a waiting, one-footed stance.

She returns after a second, picking you up to place you on top of one of the quaint, makeshift hospital beds before she begins rummaging through the supplies. You watch her muscles flex and then, the sight of a woman you'd seen around captures your focus.

"What happened to her?" the woman asks, causing Ellie to lift her head, looking down at you.

"Twisted my ankle."

"Well, obviously," her tone is laced with sarcasm. "My question was how you twisted your ankle."

"Turned weird."

Your response earns you a bemused raise of her blonde eyebrows, "Alright, whatever," she says, pulling up a chair and sitting before you.

After a short, boring while, she lets go of your leg and looks up at you again,

"So, you got a sprain. I'm gonna have to wrap your ankle up, alright?"

A lock of her hair continuously pesters her as she begins carefully tending to your ankle, pulling fresh bandages taut around the injury.

"It's gonna stay sensitive for a few days," the woman states, "And you shouldn't walk on it for at least a week."

She places a hand upon Ellie's shoulder, pulling her out of the deep-end of her thoughts, and turning her away from you. A muffled, but aggressive, hushed conversation ensues between them as you glance around the room restlessly, only making out the irritated tone of Ellie's responses. It ends with her pinching her nose bridge and mumbling a, "Fine," and they're facing you again.

The woman gives the two of you a nod before exiting the room,

"You two be safe out there."

“Alright. I’ll take you home. Now, get on," she turns, arms out, backpack on her front, as she waits for you to get onto her back again.

The route to your place is short and quiet as night blankets the world, or what’s left of it. Before you know it, she's pushing open the door and setting you down on yet another tattered bed - your own.

You hiss at the contact your ankle makes with the bed, but Ellie seems unfazed, patting your thigh in the same way she did before, the way that made your stomach twist,

“You gonna be okay?”

You nod, though her deadpan tone doesn’t leave much room for the honest truth.

“Alright, well… I’ll get going, then.”

There’s a stark contrast in life between her coming and going; the constant rustling of the fabric of her coat and the sound of her heavy winter boots against your creaky floorboards, the sound of her sniffles and low voice, and the flurry of gusts of nippy winds whistling - all shut out with the cold of the outside once she closes the door behind her. Well, most of it.

Now, you’re left with the bite of cold air and the deafening silence that haunts you as you sit still upon your mattress with darkness cast over the room, seeming to melt everything together.

[adaptacy]

If you are taking requests, I have a pairing that I do not ever see enough of: Gale x Durge. Specifically resisting the urge type Durge. Starved for content as I am, I’d be happy with whatever is written about the two. But I’d love something involving Durge nearly killing their lover or the reveal of Durge being one of the orchestrators of the Absolute plot. In game, those scenes feel far too underdeveloped.

Durge playthrough spoilers blow the cut (Shadow-cursed lands, Last Light Inn stuff. No act 3 spoilers)

so, I haven't gotten to that far into my durge playthru but I did get to the part where you try and kill your lover and to nobody's surprise that happened to be Gale!! i was actually kinda terrified that he was going to die bcs, in my defense, I did try to kill Isobel but Marcus or whatever-his-name-was got the last blow on her first and I was devastated that Gale was gonna have to pay the price for my low damage roll. in the end ofc it was worth it cause he tied my durge up and, I mean, who's gonna complain abt that??

ANYWAYS point is, yes, I agree, I wish that scene was more fleshed out too and I am more than happy to oblige and build on the scene that we were given! Also fun fact, I hadn't actually confirmed the relationship with Gale when this scene happened but the night directly after I tried to kill him he showed me his... 'tower'. And given how horny he gets watching tav/durge beat ppl up in the shadow cursed lands, i do not think that was a coincidence LMAO

No Sceleritas here cause I'm just gonna get to the good part :D — also durge here is gonna be sorta resisting the urge, but has more or less been allowing it to fester, just not embracing it.

Gorgeous was an understatement.

Busy days — waking hours occupied by wars, sight filled only with the flashes of spells and showers of blood — were all you knew. Nights were barely any break. Smiles were more common at camp, but given the near complete lack of smiles outside of camp, it wasn't saying much. There wasn't much time to be at camp, as the original mission to rid yourselves of the tadpoles grew messier and messier with every passing battle, and each matter was more pressing than the last.

You didn't mind, really. While you were just as eager to get the incubating creature out of your head as the rest of your group, each new quest and mission brought along with it the promise of bloodshed. Adrenaline. Victory. A momentary but exorbitantly satisfying quenching of your thirst for violence. A thirst you first found unsettling and terrifyingly unfamiliar.

When you first found yourself gazing down at the bloodied body of a stranger, dreaming of the torturous pain they must have felt when they met their fate, you were disgusted. Couldn't believe where your thoughts had wandered.

You'd fought it. Refrained from telling the others for fear of being ridiculed, or losing their trust, or scaring them. For a while, you'd fought it. But scarlet liquids, screams of terror, and slaughter had become your routine.

And gorgeous was an understatement.

Peace. Security. Naivete.

One knee bent, the other lazily stretched out, the bedroll barely containing the length of his body. One hand under his head, the other by his side. His eyes were closed, the soft hazel only ever plagued by a buried longing was hidden from you now. His hair spread over one arm and on the thin straw pillow beneath his head, more messy than he'd ever let it be seen while he was awake.

His right cheekbone had a bruise on it from where he'd hit himself with the butt of his staff while swinging it, and you recalled finding time to chuckle at his mistake in the middle of the battle. Being a few feet away, he'd heard it, and couldn't help but look over at you, his cheeks red from more than the blunt force, his mouth pulled back in an embarrassed smile. The moment of shame had earned him a punch to the side from his opponent moments before Astarion managed to stick them with his own blade, saving Gale from a worse fate.

Even down here, far from the surface, it was warm enough — perhaps from the fire that burned a mere two, maybe three, feet away — for Gale to concede and discard his shirt, resting more comfortably in a pair of indigo pants.

He had been honest about his appetites. His cravings. He was hardly hesitant about revealing that part of himself to you — fortunately, he was plenty aware of the consequences that would be wrought upon you, and the rest of the group, should he risk being unable to consume artifacts if he kept his secret.

Even Astarion, who's affliction was much closer to your own, was honest about his needs. It took a lot longer, and you're not sure how things would have gone over had you not woken up the night he planned to feast on you, but his admission did occur.

You were aware of the risks of your secret. You always yearned for more, even when you were positively drenched in crimson, when you'd been messy enough in your strikes that bathing in the river the following evening caused the water around you to be tainted a diluted red. Everything was temporary. Even the satisfaction derived from fights that left your weapon with such thick clumps of gore that Gale had to hold the shaft while you scrubbed away, as if the fight itself hadn't been taxing enough on your exhausted body.

Yet they all remained unaware. Some picked up on it better than others; Lae'zel's compliments, however shallow they often were, had picked up in frequency as you allowed your hunger to get the best of you, undoubtedly giving you some heartless upper hand against the foes forced to face off against your party. Karlach found you delightful, affectionately doting over you as you imitated her own battle-induced rages, though she didn't quite pick up on your lingering stares or mild smirks when your appetite had been satisfied.

Gale was the closest to discovering the truth. Unsurprising, given your mutual favoritism for one another. When you'd butchered Alfira, you'd been quick to blame wolves. Shadowheart, immediately discomforted at the mention, believed you without a second thought. Lae'zel had jumped to blame the Tiefling's lack of defense. Astarion seemed unbothered at best. The others were too busy mourning the bard's early demise to ask questions.

But he'd found you later, kneeling by the river, just before bed. 'A devastating misfortune she suffered. A sweet, innocent soul. Misfortune is perhaps the only apt term for the loss. Terribly curious, it is — To be so savagely slaughtered by beasts that aren't even native to these woods.'

You remembered freezing, fear flashing in a quick rush across your vision, knowing his eyes were on you, studying your reaction. He was so close. You'd agreed — 'an unfortunate fate indeed' — and he'd said goodnight.

Never again was it brought up. Never again was it questioned.

And gorgeous was an understatement.

That was, perhaps, the worst misfortune of all. He had such undying curiosity about the world, and yet that curiosity never reached you, or your intentions, or your past. Too trusting.

The camp was quiet. Crackling flames, distant whispers from the shadows hanging just beyond the light's reach, and his soft, patterned, blissful breathing. His chest rose and fell, so helplessly gentle.

His staff leaned up against a rock several feet away, alongside with everyone's weapons, save for Astarion, who preferred to keep his daggers close. Today had been no different from the rest; the battles had been taxing, only seeming to increase in difficulty the further you wandered into the shadows. He'd given it his all today, and it had been worth it, as you'd managed yet another day without losing any member of your party. As he'd explained it, the more of the weave he manipulated, the weaker his spells got — at least until he was able to rest.

He lay before you, undoubtedly sapped by the day's events. Defenseless.

And gorgeous was an understatement.

Three bruises. One on his cheekbone, one persistent discoloration that sat in the middle of the dark mark of the orb, and one on his side where he'd been assaulted by the undead in his moment of distraction. In a blink, your fingers grace the bruise on his side, and they tingle. Being fresh, the blemishes swirl a deep purple into his light skin, nearly matching the tint of his pants.

Purple was his best color, wasn't it?

The twitch of your fingertips sends a pulse through your body, and you taste an itch in the back of your throat. The tadpole squirms, you can feel its short wriggle behind your eye, but its control falters. Some other sensation warms your body, easing you into a malleable, thinning consciousness, and your gaze trails slowly, drunkenly, over his torso.

Three bruises. Clear, stuck to his skin like the stars he so fondly recalls. So far from the view of the sky, and yet you find a constellation still. Another blink, and your right leg has crossed over his waist. However forgotten your past is, it grants you a waking dream, as vivid as reality; Gale Dekarios, laying under you much like he was now, his pretty face littered with prettier bruises that dot all the way down to his shoulders, his neck red and swollen, branded by the picturesque imprint of hands.

Your hands.

And gorgeous is an understatement.

It's distinct. The pulse of his arteries, teasing the gift of blood beneath his skin, purring under your fingers as they push, your thumbs hitched underneath his jaw, pressuring the veins. Your own heart is thumping, encouraging your desires, urging you to indulge.

You've tasted vindication like this before. When you awoke to the spectacle of Alfira's maimed corpse, there was serenity like nothing you knew possible. It came underlined by pride, your work preciously appalling, and you relished the piece, the art macabre and perfect.

The sweeter the canvas, the finer the design.

Gale was nothing if not sweet.

"My — Hardly the sight I was expecting to wake to."

Another blink, and his bruises are gone, save for the contusion on his cheek. Absent are the inscriptions of your hands on his neck, and his hazel eyes are revealed to you once more. Though you don't remember moving it, your hand presses against the black circle on his chest, palm pining for his throat.

You're unable to move. Unable to control yourself. Unable to win back your own consciousness. Gale props himself up on his elbows. His heart rate has picked up, and yet you don't sense fear. The curiosity in his eyes is familiar. The quirk in his left eyebrow and the smirk playing on the corner of his mouth is not.

"I do assume you meant to wake me, eventually. No harm," he says, gaze narrowing, and your lack of a response makes him huff out a chuckle, or at least part of one, as it only lasts a beat. Your eyes are pinned to his throat, reaching to find the comfort of your imagination's lens again, but your dream has been interrupted. At last, your eyes meet his, and it's the hazel that causes the tadpole to squirm again, awakening your senses once more. Gale moves one of his hands to rest on your waist, and his head recoils ever so slightly. "You look uncomfortable. What's wrong?" He asks, and you're able to sense a less pleasant curiosity, but it's still free of fearful influence.

"I'm going to kill you. You have to stop me."

His eyes widen, and still, there is no fear. He doesn't believe you. "A rather twisted joke... Not one I find particularly humorous. Albeit, humor is subjective, although–"

"I killed Alfira. You're next. No time – you have to stop me," you huff, and your confession brings on a raging headache, unlike any pain you've ever felt before. You lean forward, teeth grit as you groan, and Gale squeezes your hip for a moment. Though the reverberations in your head are overwhelming at the least, you finally catch a hint of fear from the wizard, and you're thankful for it. At least a part of you is, though the beast that brings on your headache is only bubbling to a rage, furious that you would dare turn against your thoughts. You've not committed a betrayal against your own conscience, but instead, betrayed your destiny, refusing some urge that is larger than yourself.

With what little remaining control you have, you push yourself off of him, and he's quick to rise to his feet. Your eyes squeeze closed, fighting the unwelcome entity with the rest of your energy, though given your excursions earlier in the day, that energy is quickly dwindling. Your knees press to the dirt, the heels of your palms pressing to your temples as you keel over, an aggressive, roaring nausea plaguing your senses, soon joined by an even more violent malignity that rips into your control as though it means to test you.

You want him dead.

A wonderful bath his blood would provide — A marvelous crack his bones would sing — A remarkable terror he could feel. He will suffer.

There's a firm squeeze on your arms as they're yanked behind your back, and you writhe, fighting your cravings as they fight your containment. The hold is followed by a burning scrape on your wrists as they are hastily, and uncomfortably tightly, bound by rope. Your head swings, but Gale manages to pull back in time, his reflex causing his grip to falter, and you fall to your side, rolling towards his bedroll.

He frowns, eyebrows pinched inward and he kneels in place, a few paces away, reading the situation and assessing just how much of a threat you pose. Gale glances at where Shadowheart and Karlach lie, still miraculously sleeping soundly despite the struggle occurring no more than two yards from where they reside. His attention returns to you. "Easy. Should you retain any control, I merely request that you refrain from indulging in... whatever your intentions may have been. Greedy as it may be, an explanation certainly wouldn't hurt."

There's a command, conjuring as a sensation rather than a verbal declaration, and it rings through your entire body. You're unable to decipher the apparition's ambition, but your muscles act nonetheless. It fights — you fight — against the rope, and there's a flare of savage discontent when you're unable to free yourself. "You're better off as my prey! You will suffer a purgatory worse than any of the hells could manage," you bark, and your words are not your own. The control he speaks of is entirely silenced, leaving you an unwilling vessel, forced to submit to the will of your past.

"Not the answer I would have preferred, but an answer nonetheless. Yelling will only stir the others from their slumber, and I predict they won't be as understanding as yours truly. You should consider taking up a quieter tone," he advises, and you growl, forcing rashes into your wrists as you wage a war on your binds.

"I will spill your blood before this night is through!" You yell again, and Karlach shifts where she sleeps, stirring a flash of worry in his expression. "Wake them! I'll slaughter them all the same!"

Gale cringes, conflicted for only a moment before he overcomes his internal argument, and he quickly rushes to your side. You bite at him with a rabid ferocity, and he sits behind you, pulling your body closer to his own, even as you squirm and fight him. Shadowheart mumbles, bordering on the edge of lucidity, and Gale curses out a whispered "Godsdamn it." He huffs, irritated just as much as he is scared, and his palm presses to your mouth, his thumb keeping your jaw shut — or at least trying to keep it shut — as your head is pulled against his shoulder.

You mumble, fervently antagonizing him, your muffled words being split up only by the subtle flinching of your jaw as you attempt to bite at his hand, all to no avail. His grasp is tight, nearly rough, keeping you as restrained as possible, and he watches Karlach and Shadowheart with apprehensive dread, his focus painfully split between concern for you and fear of you.

Gale looks down at you, his expression firm and yet, against all odds and expectations, somehow understanding, even if it is incredibly mild. "I've seen you tear apart the most ferocious of beasts. Foes that would make Bhaal himself tremble. You always prevail. You must defeat this — whatever it is." He nods, but his encouragement is not what you want to hear; you thirst for his terror, you thirst for his pleading, you want to see him tremble. His tone softens, and he squeezes your jaw, almost tenderly. "I'm right here. No blood will be shed tonight. Fight to your heart's content; I will not give in. You cannot give in, either."

Your heart is all that remains of your better judgement, and it aches at his promise, though the guilt and appreciation is quickly whisked away by your burning rage, your need for violence. You persist, as does he, correcting your every shift, no matter how exhausted he grows. Certainly the most stern you've ever seen him — more disciplined than you knew he could be, but you have little room in your mind to process that. You despise the way that he cares, the fact that he is just gentle enough not to injure you as he restricts you, the understanding in his expression, the near nurturing tone he takes on.

Yet it's the affection that eventually subsides your bloodlust, willing it to retire, however angry it remains. Angry at the loss, angry at the incompetence, angry at the devotion. Devotion to the wrong subject. Gale wins, ultimately — and by some affiliation, so too do you. A temporary victory, you're well-aware, but even if it isn't permanent, your body becomes your own, your thoughts and feelings along with it.

Exhaustion is the first burden you bear upon your return, and Gale is hesitant to ease his grasp on you, but he takes the risk, and you can't muster the energy to move away from him. Your head pangs with a narrow pain, manifesting as a faint ringing in your ears, and your wrists sear with sharp bites from the fraying rope. His hand releases your mouth, shifting quickly to your shoulder as your torso threatens to fall over, your buried rancor having completely wasted away the last of your energy.

Gale sighs, his own muscles easing up as he inches backwards, allowing you to lean more comfortably, and with a bit more stability, against his chest. One of his arms stays displayed over your abdomen, quite possibly still a little worried you might lash out again, and you didn't blame him for exercising caution. You lean into him, mostly because you lack the energy to do much else, but also because you want him to understand that you are beyond appreciative. "I'm sorry," you mumble, your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper — barely audible at all, really.

"I know. You're okay. Rest now, you'll certainly require some form of rejuvenation if we intend on defeating Ketheric and... Well, repressing whatever it is that you find yourself cursed with. And I assure you, I do so unquestionably intend on assisting you with your affliction. After all, I'm quite fond of my vitals, and I've no interest in seeing them spilled." Gale's tone is almost lighthearted, but genuine still.

His arm releases you, and he guides you to rest your head in his lap, allowing you to experience a little more comfort. Your eyes close, and you fear sleep — you know the possible horrors you could cause when you're left defenseless against your bloodlust — but you feel it taking you nonetheless. Gale doesn't untie you, not yet anyways, and it provides the slightest of reassurances. Worst case scenario, you know that, should the urge take advantage of your rest, Gale will expect it this time.

"Perhaps a poor time for confessions," he begins, his hand brushing stray hairs from your face, "But I must admit, the notion of you becoming lost to that rage is not a concept I'm anywhere near comfortable with. Keeping my heart beating is one motivation, and a strong one at that — but I hope you understand that keeping you safe is also immensely important to me. In all honesty, I'm... not sure what I'd do without you. I worry enough witnessing your engagement in the violent affairs we do so often find ourselves tangling with." Gale pauses, and clears his throat, shifting nervously. "Apologies, pay me no mind — A little shaken up, I fear my feelings may be getting the best of me. Rest. We'll reconvene come morning."

[runwayrunway]

No. 28 - A Further Explanation of the Star Alliance Test

This is a main-series post, despite not being a review of a specific airline. I just think it's something that belongs in the series, that should be read. Don't worry. Today's airline is going to come later. This is a necessary preamble to get out of the way first, and it's also me making things right with an airline I've covered already.

Stick around and I promise it'll make sense. I had to rewrite this entire post from scratch, so if I could have changed this fact I would have, but fundamentally before I talk about today's true subject I need to talk about the Star Alliance Test (SAT for the remainder of this post). 

So let's begin with a question. You don't have to get this right. Just take a brief look at these pictures, don't try to examine them closely or anything, just a look-over, and tell me which one of these planes - we'll call them 1, 2, and 3, left from right - flies for an airline we’ve touched on briefly before, Avianca.

Got your answer locked in? Hit the readmore and let me tell you why I asked you this!

That's right! The answer was No. 1. You can tell because it says Avianca on it, if you look closer. But...why? Why would we want to be put in a situation where 'which of these three airlines with completely different liveries, identities, and brands does this plane fly for' is a question that could feasibly come up? 

I don't know. I didn't make that choice and I was probably on some other wall during that meeting. Oh, and to the best of my knowledge I also hadn't been born yet. But it's a thing airline alliances do. And Star Alliance is the subject of the Star Alliance Test - one of my metrics for determining if an airline deserves a grade of F. 

The Star Alliance test has been used precisely once - in my SAS post, regarding the 1998-2019 livery (henceforth referred to as red engine SAS or RESAS).

This monstrosity, for those blessed enough to not remember.

Here are the rules of the test. 

The Star Alliance Test has exactly one question. Would I prefer that all this airline’s planes were forcibly repainted into Star Alliance liveries instead of allowed to remain in their current state?

If the answer is 'yes', the airline automatically gets a grade of F. 

Why Star Alliance? After all, it could be better but I don't think it's that bad. Well, I choose it because the Star Alliance test isn't really about being aesthetically pleasing - at least, not exclusively. Let me explain. 

Star Alliance is the largest airline alliance in the world. Flightradar24 estimates there are 106 planes flying in a Star Alliance livery. It has 26 member airlines, shown above. Note the variance in color scheme, in logo, in origin. 26 is so many airlines. These carriers span every continent except Antarctica and basically only share three features: being international, being full-service, and being members of Star Alliance. I think it's safe to say that in any other context, nobody would ever associate THAI and Avianca, or Shenzhen Airlines and TAP Air Portugal, or Aegean Airlines and EVA Air. 

Each of these airlines has a livery of their own, except for Copa. I've covered Lufthansa and SAS already. Croatia Airlines and Air New Zealand are on my request list. Another several are on my own private 'short' list. (It is 50 airlines long. You don't want to know how long my longlist is.) 26 airlines comes out to at minimum 26 reviews, but actually more because you saw me squeeze four out of SAS. I will say up front, Star Alliance runs the gamut of liveries. There are a couple I like, a couple I think are very bad, and most I think are middling. But each of them, except Copa, is its own. Some of their designs are minimal, disappointing, ugly, but they are all designs made in an attempt to reflect the airline's identity and distinguish it from the rest of the tarmac, even if they create something ugly or boring or cowardly or all three.

A livery can be very, very bad indeed. But in my own mind an F, an outright failure, is the inverse of an A+ in a sort of cosmically symmetric ontology, and these are not the inverse of an A+ livery. They do not embody a transcendent bad to balance the scales against transcendent good. To reach this point you must be not only ugly but a gnawing void eating away at your own self. A livery worthy of the grade F do not fail to execute a good concept, or even fail to execute a bad concept. They have no concept and they fail to justify their existence.

One of the worst liveries I've covered vs one of the best.

The SAT is a litmus test for this astronomical, pernicious state of utter failure. It takes more to fail the SAT than to just be uglier than the default Star Alliance livery. Plenty of liveries are uglier than Star Alliance's and they pass by light-years. To fail the SAT requires more than bad design, blandness, or anything else of that nature. It is monumentally difficult to fail the SAT. It’s like stalling an Airbus. You can do it. We know this. People have managed to do it, when the perfect storm arises and the world enters that uncanny state where luck and circumstance conspire to make the absurd a reality. But it’s really not something you can do, broadly speaking. Just pulling the nose up too far or forgetting to keep track of your airspeed isn’t going to do the trick. Icing on the wings won’t either. Even forgetting to extend your flaps on takeoff probably won’t be enough. It’s rare enough that it straddles the border of being an urban legend. It seems so easy to do thoughtlessly but it’s only happened a couple of times. Even doing it intentionally is harder than just designing a good livery. I'm not even sure it's possible to do it intentionally.  

To fail the SAT, you must fail so comprehensively that you should no longer be allowed to design your own livery. You should, in a paternalistic manner, have your entire fleet forcibly repainted into the Star Alliance colors. 

A livery is meant to distinguish and represent an airline. Even a bad design is still a design. The reason that RESAS fails the SAT, in my mind, is that it doesn't feel like a design. It's not coherent. It's not intentional. It doesn't feel like improperly integrated parts, or even multiple liveries stapled together. It feels like it was designed by random number generator. It utterly fails to represent the airline, utterly fails to look good, and utterly fails to even seem like thought was put into it.

To fail the SAT is to get to the point where I genuinely think it is so shameful to paint this on your planes, so inept on every level, that it would be better to just not have a livery. It would be an act of mercy to become indistinguishable from other airlines instead of staying as it is, a thing you could only ever pity and never truly love. Never respect. The most wretched sort of creature. If your shirt is stained too badly, you just can't keep going on like that. People will point and laugh at you, and that's never fun. They'll say 'that guy's shirt is covered in mysterious substances', and you have to just put on a jacket and cover it up until you get home and fumigate it with kerosene. From 1998 to 2019, SAS would have been better off just not having a livery than they were flying that...thing.

It doesn't have to be Star Alliance in particular. Just something which renders the airplane mostly generic. They can keep a little logo on there but they don't get their own design. It could just as easily be, say, forcible repainting into the default manufacturer liveries Airbus and Boeing use for prototype aircraft.

Not the end of the world, right? These are surely not unbearable liveries. I don't think it's any worse giving up your identity to say you're part of Star Alliance than it is to subdue it in favor of the model of plane. If you're SAS pre-2019, this may be a decent option for you. If you're literally anyone else, the mere concept should be philosophically repugnant.

I am actually being kind, though. If I were to be even harsher, I could have easily made this the SmartLynx Test.

I asked you all about SmartLynx. To begin with, not a single person believed they could recall seeing one of their planes, or that they had flown with them. I didn't think they'd be able to. That's not a question I can really answer about myself either, at least not with any confidence. But what is SmartLynx?

The vast majority of responses just expressed bewilderment. I got 50 total replies to the questionnaire itself. Keep in mind that some people declined to answer, and I didn't include them, and even still the number of people who actively expressed that they did not know is nearly half of all responses. Few of the answers were especially confident, either. I'm fairly sure the ones about transporting animals were all jokes, and nearly everyone expressed that their answer was a guess. Someone just said 'bad', which I thought was pretty funny. I liked that answer.

I got two people who said that SmartLynx are airplane lessors. Actually, one said 'private airplane sharing company', but I've interpreted that as meaning lessor. Anyway, they're right. The people who said charter also aren't wrong.

SmartLynx are a Latvian airline which specializes in wet leases. For those unaware, a wet lease (very bad term) in aviation is a lease of an airplane that comes with a crew to operate it. Generally everything else, like fuel and various operating fees, is on the airline leasing the plane, and they're also the ones who market and sell the tickets. Basically, you could get on a flight, your ticket says, for example, Oceanic Airlines Flight 1, you bought it from the Oceanic Airlines website using your Oceanic Airlines miles, and be none the wiser that SmartLynx owns the airplane and pays the pilots flying it. These vary a little, but generally a wet lease provides ACMI (aircraft, crew, maintenance, and insurance), and if you ever see the term 'damp' or 'moist' lease that means the cabin crew is provided by the lessee rather than the lessor, but apparently neither sees much use. Which is a shame, because I think this is one of the few situations where more categories actually might make this easier to parse.

If all of that is sort of confusing and a lot of information upfront, you are not alone in feeling like this! I'm still pretty shaky in my own understanding of it. I'm a history person, not a business person. You can think of it as codesharing but never mentioning that's what you're doing, if that's any easier. It's also similar to regional brands of larger carriers, like Delta Connection flights being flown by Endeavor Air or SkyWest, though these carriers aren't going as far as to lease and are still on the hook for their own operating costs.

Every time I explain this to someone for the first time they think it's pretty deranged, and I don't completely disagree, but it's very normal. There are plenty of reasons airlines might wet lease, generally involving them not having the capacity to fulfill demand. All sorts of airlines provide wet leases, and all sorts of airlines hire them. It can create weird legal loopholes regarding who is allowed to fly in whose airspace, but typically it's just one airline not having enough planes for the holiday peak. They usually last for a few weeks or months, rather than the many years of a 'dry' lease which includes a plane only.

SmartLynx fly basically everything you can think of - passenger, cargo, holiday charter. Some airlines they've leased for are EasyJet, DHL, Finnair, and victim of the blog condor. Because they never operate flights under their own name, there is absolutely no reason for them to have their own livery. Indeed, it makes more sense not to, since it would be easier to leave their planes blank in case they want to repaint them into another airline's livery for a longer-term lease.

If you fail the Star Alliance Test, I think you would be better off painting your entire plane white.

SmartLynx has no identity because their entire point is to assume that of others. They basically do the airline equivalent of paying somebody to take an exam for you. This is a SmartLynx plane with Saudia logos on airasia color-blocking. It's a bit weird-looking, sure, but it betrays nothing about SmartLynx because their entire job is to not have a brand. Nobody has ever seen a SmartLynx plane because they exist literally but not philosophically - the job of a SmartLynx plane is to fly for a different airline. They are the stagehands of aviation, scurrying around in all black to stand out as little as possible.

But SAS isn't SmartLynx. SAS is a big airline, a flag carrier, and to say that they fail the SAT means that I would prefer their planes all be wiped from existence in an apocalyptic flood of liquid paper. I do not think the 1998-2019 SAS livery deserves to exist. I keep repeating myself because I need to stress how profoundly difficult it is to get me to this point. I would rather a livery be clumsy, bare-bones, poorly executed, cowardly, genuinely ugly, absolutely dismal, than it be non-existent. It takes something absolutely tremendous to bring me to the point RESAS has, where there is nothing, no vision, no meaning, no direction, no design, that justifies its existence.

...so what about condor?

condor was the first airline to get a grade of F. The second was the aforementioned red engined SAS livery, now mercifully retired and thus reduced to a footnote in a post about how far SAS has come. The reason I brought up the SAT in SAS's post and didn't in condor's is that condor emphatically passes the SAT. 

I began with the assumption that the SAT was a good measure of if a livery deserves an F, and maybe it still is, but it's definitely not all there is to it. condor is different from Copa and RESAS, it just is. And I think the best evidence of this is that, of all the reviews I've posted, condor is the only one where a significant portion of people who reblogged it disagreed with me. I do understand that at the end of the day everything I say is subjective, and I don't mind when people have opposing views on something, but combined with my own thoughts on the livery, and the process of researching and writing my BWIA post, it pushed me to an epiphany about what makes a truly great and truly terrible livery. And, partly out of curiosity and partly to follow this new path of personal evolution, I asked survey-takers what they think of the condor livery. Maybe I should have left it as a free-response question, but I wanted figures, numbers. So here's what I got. (Free responses have been merged into whichever category they match closest for the sake of simplicity.)

These results are fascinating. First, you may notice that this is missing two options. Not a single person said that this livery was boring, or that they felt neutrally towards it. Even people who are still making up their minds are a dramatic minority.

Second, people who had a clear-cut opinion of the livery, positive or negative, made up just over a fifth of respondents. Most people were at least to some extent conflicted, although which specific variant of conflict varied. There are people who appreciate the idea but do not like the appearance of the livery, and then there are people who find some charm in it. Around 2/3 of these people cannot force themselves to fully insult what they see as a sort of goofy creature, while the other third cannot allow their emotions to sway their rating. If my post on the matter didn't fully convey it, this is probably the closest to my own opinion.

If I was condor, and I saw these results from a focus group (replicated on a scale far larger than my survey, of course) I would probably say to go ahead with this livery. All press is good press, as they say. You're going to end up with a livery that sticks with people, and they're going to respect that even if they think it's hideous. At the very least, they're going to notice you.

Condor's livery is ugly. I will not change my stance; it does not look good. It is unpleasing to my eyes. But it is not the opposite of an A+ livery. In fact, it has a lot in common with them. The reason I love PSA, BWIA, and Amakusa Airlines so much isn't just that they make good use of the plane's shape, have pleasing colors, and generally look nice, but because they are built on the bedrock of a concept which goes beyond designing an airplane. In BWIA's review in particular I discussed the fact that it takes the approach of building a livery around an idea rather than an idea around the concept of what a livery should be; this is what distinguishes an A+ from an A, and the gulf is far larger than the gulf between any two other grades. The difference between 'it's on the better side of okay' and 'I somewhat tepidly like it' can be rather small compared to the difference between 'it's very good' and 'it's genius'. 

In the 2022 film "Nope", protagonist OJ asks if there is such a thing as a 'bad miracle'. To me, condor is something similar: bad genius. condor takes a once-in-a-decade great concept and executes it incomprehensibly poorly, and now they're the infamous ugly stripe planes. It has failed spectacularly but it has failed in perfect harmony with itself. It is unlikely that someone attempting to make an ugly livery as a joke or a parody could come up with something quite this sad. I've struggled for a little bit to think of a way to convey what it means to me, and I think I might have finally found it.

The town of Borja, Spain has a population of under 5,000. Although it was largely unremarkable as far as this sort of work goes, they were quite fond of a fresco painted on their church wall around 1930 by the artist Elías García Martínez. All art begins to deteriorate over time, and frescoes are notoriously difficult to conserve. In 2012, an octogenarian with no relevant training had a vision of a gorgeous restored painting. She definitely should have thought before acting. Just because you see something in your mind's eye doesn't mean you can make it real. And if you rush into it you might make...well, you see the picture on the right.

This picture is hideous. And it has brought in crowds of tourists hundreds of times the size of the town's actual population. Their money has funded pensions and built infrastructure. It has become a cultural icon. Nearly everyone with an internet connection has seen it. It's by far the most memorable thing about this tiny town. It is a work of bad genius.

Say what you will about condor's planes - and I myself have said many mean things about them. They are ugly and they are iconic. They are condor's grand statement, and no matter how ugly I think they are the world would be losing something if they were assimilated into identical Star Alliance liveries.

This striped livery is terrible, and it is great. It is worse than many liveries are good. And it does not fail as a livery. It is fundamentally condor's, and there is nothing like it. Distinctive, coherent, unique...and also ugly.

I've realized that condor belongs as a fundamental landmark in my understanding of liveries, just like Lufthansa or BWIA or PSA. Now that I've said all of what I've said in this post, I think giving condor an F just doesn't work. It doesn't belong in the same category as liveries which fail the Star Alliance Test. It doesn't deserve a better grade though. Something so bombastically, almost elegantly hideous requires a rethinking of the scale I've been using.

condor gets Runway Runway's first ever Z rating.

It does a tremendously poor job at being good, but a fantastic job of being a livery. In order for the Star Alliance Test to retain its meaning and the F tier to retain its coherence, condor needs to be reclassified. It is awful, hideous, sloppy, a waste of potential, but it is potential, and 'awful' originally referred to something which inspired awe.

[deaddboywalking]

Hey, it's Rem. I haven't posted in awhile, so I'm gonna post my DPS fanfic (that's also on AO3 gimme those Kudos)

TRIGGER WARNING!!!

This is Dead Poet's Society, Neil doesn't die in this one (spoilers srry) BUT THAT SCENE STILL TAKES PLACE!! When I say hurt/comfort and su*c*de attempt I MEAN IT!!

This fic is 1357 words long, so it's a short read. This is also an Anderperry fic. And, one last time, WARNING, it's dark.

If you're still here, it means you're ready to READ THIS FIC ALREADY (I'm srry, housekeeping is important </3) So, with out further ado,

Confessions by DeaddBoyWalking

When I was four years old, I watched a man kill himself on live television. It was some politician, someone important. I'm not important. I'm just some kid. Some 17-year-old kid whose dreams have just been stolen from out under his feet. I'm a nobody with nothing to live for. And now it's my turn.

It's quiet as I creep down the stairs to my father's study, the crown of flowers I wore as Puck clutched in my hands. I cringe as one of the floorboards creaks under my feet, but I continue on.

Just a few more steps. I promise myself. Just a few more steps and this will all be over. I feel tears welling in my eyes as I open the door to my father's office. Is this selfish of me? I sigh and shake off the lingering doubt. Now wasn't the time for second guessing. I continue on, into the office and to the desk.

What would Todd think?

The thought catches me by surprise. What would he think? Scowling, I try to push the thought aside as I open the top drawer of the desk. I reach to the back of the drawer, feeling around until I feel the cool silver under my fingertips. Clasping the key close to my chest, I take in a shaky breath.

It's now or never.

My hand trembling, I stick the key into the keyhole in the bottom drawer. I give it a twist and pull the drawer out. Inside, wrapped in a handkerchief, is my father's revolver. Realisation hits me like a freight train.

I'm really doing this. I'm about to fucking kill myself... What will Todd think.

"Fuck," I mumble, picking myself up off the floor. Now isn't the time to think about Todd. I set the gun on the desk and as I sit in my father's chair, I rub my eyes, trying to remove Todd from my thoughts.

There has to be a reason for this. A reason that my own brain is torturing me further with the thought of him.

I stare at the gun.

Why does he do this to me? Why must my every waking moment be filled with thoughts of him, even when I'm about to take my own life?

My hand twitches.

Why do I have to care about him? He's just a boy. Just my roommate. Just... Just my closest friend.

I feel my thoughts race. I reach for the gun and pick it up.

Why... Why does any of this matter?

I put the gun to my head. I breathe in, tears flowing freely.

Because I love him.

I go to pull the trigger, squeezing my eyes tightly shut.

Goodbye.

Before I can squeeze the trigger, a sudden noise in the silence startles me.

Knock Knock Knock

Frightened, I drop the gun, my whole body quivering. The noise sounds again.

Knock Knock Knock

Someone's at the front door. I quickly pick up the gun and wrap it in its handkerchief, shoving it back into the drawer I got it from. My breathing is shaky and desperate. I'm terrified.

I stand slowly from the chair, creeping my way towards the door to the hallway. The knocking seems to have stopped. I linger in the doorway for a moment, before continuing slowly, quietly down the hallway. The knocking sounds a final time, more frantic than the others.

KnockKnockKnockKnockKnock

I undo the bolt and latch, opening the door slightly to peek through. There's a figure there, shivering in the falling snow. I open the door further to get a better look. Todd.

"Neil..?" His voice is quiet and gentle, "Neil is that you?" Still shaking, I pull the door open more. I'm in nothing but pyjama pants and the cold bites at my chest and arms.

"Todd," I begin, staring down at him, "What are you doing here?" The other boy only wrings his hands before responding.

"I-I followed you. I was worried, Neil. I was worried about you." He's shivering just as bad as I am, so I usher him in quickly.

"My parents will have you thrown out of Welton if they find you," I say, watching as he takes off his coat and shoes. He looks up at me, snow clinging to his hair and eyelashes. I think back to what I was thinking just a few moments earlier.

Because I love him.

"I know," He says, "But I don't care." His piercing blue eyes gaze up at me as we stand there. He cocks his head, "Neil, why are you still wearing the crown?"

I'd forgotten I was wearing it. I reach up and take it off of my head.

"It's nothing," I reply plainly, shifting the costume piece between my hands. He gives me a skeptical look.

"You're a bad liar, Neil," His voice is gentle as he reaches out to me. I flinch away, startling him, "What's wrong?" I must look shaken because his eyes are filled with worry.

"Neil, I'm sorry- Please tell me what's wrong," I sigh and slowly shake my head.

"I'll tell you," I promise, "Can we please just go up to my room first? If my parents know you're here and you get expelled..." I trail off, but he seems to understand.

"Okay, we can do that," He says softly. He reaches out again, and this time I let him. His hand cups my face as I sigh quietly.

"I'm sorry, Todd," I whisper, leaning into the touch.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," He replies, wiping a tear from my eye. This only makes the tears flow more.

"But there is, Todd," I say, placing my hand over his, "I promise I'll explain in a moment, all right?" He nods, seemingly unbothered by my touch. We stand like that for a moment, silent, gazing at each other. I turn away first, dropping my hand and pulling back from him.

I silently lead the way up the stairs to my room. Todd follows close behind, carrying his coat and shoes. As we pass my father's office, he eyes it curiously. I shake my head, motioning for him to follow. He continues eyeing the door, but follows. When we reach my room, I usher him inside, quietly closing the door behind us.

"Sit anywhere you want," I whisper, sitting on the edge of the bed. He sits down next to me, so close our shoulders brush. My face flushes at the touch, which I hope he can't see in the dim light.

"Neil," He begins, "What's wrong? I know something is, with the way you and your father left." I anxiously fidget with the flower crown before setting it aside. Breathe, Neil.

"My father is enrolling me in military school," I say matter-of-factly, "He will never let me be an actor." I close my eyes and turn away from Todd, "I'm sorry."

Todd sighs, "Neil... Neil there's nothing to be apologising for," He promises me. I frown and shake my head.

"Todd, you don't understand," I say, "I'd rather be dead than go to military school. Than to never be an actor." To never have you. I shake my head in frustration, balling my fists. Tears well in my eyes and I sniffle softly.

"Oh, Neil..." His face is filled with a mixture of horror and pain, "Neil, is that what you were doing when I got here?" I nod grimly. Todd's eyes seem full of dread as he clasps my hand in his.

"Neil, I'm so sorry," He says, "I-I can't stop your father, but..." He lets out a frustrated sigh, squeezing my hand tightly, "But I don't think I could bear to lose you." I blink. He'd caught me off guard with that. I shift slightly closer to him, rubbing the tears from my eyes.

"I don't think I could, either," I reply. I knew I couldn't. I couldn't live without him, I loved him too much. He squeezes my hand reassuringly and rests his head on my shoulder. I breathe in.

"Todd," I begin.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Silence. Then...

"I love you too, Neil."

END FIC

Wowzers, that was rough. Either way, if you enjoyed it, notes are very much appreciated!! And if you ever feel so inclined, check out my AO3 (same username) I'm currently rewriting the first chapter of my original work House of Wolves (yes, the MCR song) and should be getting that posted soon!!

But yep, that's it! Have a fantastic day/night (it's 2am here) and be kind to yourself and others! Peace!

-♣️

(ps I'm including the song that was my fav to listen to while I worked on this fic)

[sagesariadnd]

Please Watch March on Faewunder. I Just Think It's Neat.

I'm waiting on a few things before I start posting pictures like I promised, so in the meantime, I have a recommendation if you're looking for a D&D actual play show that isn't one of the Big Three.

I've fairly recently started dipping my toes into the World of Io, a collection of streamed short campaigns set in the DM's homebrew world of, well, Io. I started with, and am still in the middle of, March on Faewunder. I started it because my current parasocial squish Tom Fawkes is in it, and I'm sticking with it for some of the most wholesome and funny roleplay I've ever seen. A warning now that the following is an unhinged infodump about how much I love this campaign, but I promise a link is at the bottom!

Highlights include:

Actually streaming session zero! I don't know if other shows have done this, but it's the first time I've seen it and found it really cool to see the process in action. This includes an introduction to Io's history and world makeup and answering the players' questions about it, so it's great for onboarding new viewers because they don't have to have watched the other campaigns. Plus, hearing the players talk about the kind of characters they were making made me immediately excited for the campaign and the dynamics within the party, which was clearly the case for the people watching too because there was fanart literally that night.

Mark Hulmes - the host of High Rollers...you know, that actual play show that did the one-shot with the Baldur's Gate 3 cast last year - playing a half-lagomon paladin with the energy of DiC dub Sailor Moon. Yeah that's right, a grown-ass man is shamelessly playing his ideal bunny girl waifu and nobody judges him for it because Gloria is a precious cinnamon roll and must be cherished.

A southern belle dhampir ranger named Vidalia whose parasol is both a sword and a gun...crossbow...thing. Also she's a swarmkeeper ranger and her swarm is birds! Used to be corvids, now I think it's hawks. And she's the sweetest damn person you'll ever meet and doesn't even hide that she's a vampire.

An elf bard named Pandora who got her name literally because her player thought it was fun to say in her character voice, and she says it to herself in character when she's anxious. She's also a vampire hunter who's afraid of birds.

Disclaimer: Pandora is an emotional wreck of a character with a heart of gold and she WILL make you cry at least every other session.

Did I mention those three are totally in an awkward disaster lesbian cuddle puddle? Cause they totally are. Vidalia even calls Gloria 'hunny bun' and it's the most adorable thing in the world.

Hey, you wanna have lots of emotions about skeletons? Well Tom has you covered with Ribeye, the skeleton bard who wants to be a chef! (Gee, DM, how come your mom lets your campaign have TWO bards?) Don't be fooled by his punny name or his Ed Wynn voice, this skeleton will fuck you up emotionally almost as much as Pandora. This youtube funnyman has made his fellow players wail loudly into the microphone like Rocky freaking Lockridge.

And you wanna know why there's so many emotions about skeletons? Well for one thing Tom's just really good at roleplaying but the big catalyst is that neither Ribeye in character, nor any of the players out of character, know Ribeye's HP. The DM just tells him if he gets knocked out. The DM rolls his hit dice for him. And he can't be healed by normal healing magic, only necromancy. Yeah uh...nobody in the party can cast necromancy. They found a backup, but it's VERY temporary and the DM plays the game HARD. Your butt WILL clench every single time Ribeye takes damage. The party's butts sure do. No really, it's genuinely sweet how hard they all work to protect their skelebro.

I feel bad that I don't have a lot to say comparatively about the last member, the changeling monk Kagami. I think he's just along for the ride. But he's there, and he's as badass as a monk should be, and he's the source of a good few funny moments, including the ever optimistic statement "I haven't exploded yet!" (no you don't get context, watch the show) and the pure D&D energy of spending all your money on a stupid carnival prize because it's so ridiculous you just HAVE to have it. It even comes in handy, how the heck did that happen???

If you like crafting, Faewunder has you covered with all sorts of fun homebrewing! Every long rest is an adventure! Ribeye whips up all sorts of fun dishes and names them! Kagami supes up everyone's weapons and armor! Pandora desperately tries to keep up the supply of potions Ribeye can drink! The DM has a chart of all sorts of fun buffs they can unlock and put on their gear, so long as there's time to make it. It takes up a decent chunk of the sessions, but the party makes it work through...

Camp RP! Banter and sharing feelings around the campfire almost every long rest, including the ones that come from just travel time with nothing happening! I've never seen a party so willing to share their feelings with each other and they're so delightfully close, even if Kagami's still keeping things close to his scarily muscular chest at the moment.

Intense combat with some of the wildest luck (or usually lack thereof) I've ever seen on a VTT. I thought it was roll20 that hated us, who kicked Foundary's dog???

Crazy fae shit

Fucked up trees! Every DM needs to have at least one fucked up tree encounter.

Fun with voice modulators!

Distinct and lovable NPCs!

A disclaimer that the NPCs will never flirt with the PCs unless the PCs initiate. That's just a good rule of thumb to have in a DM-player dynamic! I mean, check that the DM is comfortable with it too, but really I'm just sad that 'not sicing a horny NPC on my players' is noteworthy.

A channel in the Io discord exclusively for rules lawyering, so the DM can receive feedback on goofed up rules (or ignore the ones from people who forget his houserules) without them cluttering up the twitch chat or distracting him from running the game! Now THAT'S innovation, y'all!

Fanart every night, and bingo cards that the DM fills out with the chat!

The DM is a racoon wizard! Seriously, how can you say no to that?!

Anyway it's really good, and if any of this sounds appealing the playlist is below. It's a relatively short campaign - 13 sessions averaging around three hours apiece. I'll definitely be checking out the rest of the Io campaigns after I finish Faewunder, but I feel like it's gonna be hard to top this group.

[insidecasino796]

Lady gaga poker face million reasons

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Poker Face - Live at The Cherrytree House Piano & Voice Version: 81: The Edge of Glory (Live from "A Very Gaga Thanksgiving") 82: Poker Face (Live At The Cherrytree House) (Piano & Voice Version) 83: Superstar: 84: Million Reasons (Andrelli Remix) 85: The Edge Of Glory - Live From "A Very Gaga Thanksgiving" 86: The Edge Of Glory - Sultan & Ned. Dec 15, 2016 · By Jeff Nelson December 15, 2016 04:13 PM. Lady Gaga dropped her “Poker Face” and disco stick-riding schtick for her latest music video. The pop star released the clip for her new single. Poker Face is about many things. Lady Gaga has been asked many times the meaning of this song and she has given several different answers. First and foremost, it is obvious that lyrically Poker Face is about sex and gambling; or more specifically, sex, with the use of gambling metaphors. On at least one occasion she claimed that the song was.

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The acapella for Million Reasons is in the key of C Major, has a tempo of 130 bpm, and is 3 minutes and 25 seconds long. This production is musically considered lethargic. These vocals were recorded by Lady Gaga, and released 5 years ago on Friday 21st of October 2016. The lyrics of Million Reasons aren't explicit. Lady Gaga，美国当红著名流行歌手，欧美乐坛最具影响力天后。曾受到David Bowie、Michael Jackson、Madonna以及皇后乐队在内艺人的影响，以至于在流行音乐中用华丽且特立独行的形象知名，并贯彻在自己的日常穿着与表演融入到音乐录像带中。2008年发布首张专辑《The Fame》后迅速掀起热潮，其中囊括了冠军. Million Reasons. " Million Reasons " is a song recorded by American singer Lady Gaga for her fifth studio album, Joanne (2016). Initially released as a promotional single, it was released to radio stations on October 29, 2016, as the album's second single. The track was written by Gaga, Hillary Lindsey and Mark Ronson, and produced by Ronson.

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I'm not lyin', I'm just stunnin' with my love-glue-gunnin'. Just like a chick in the casino. Take your bank before I pay you out. I promise this, promise this. Check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous. Can't read my, can't read my. No, he can't read my poker face. (She's got me like nobody) Can't read my, can't read my.

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Poker face was the best selling song of 2009 and has sold about 14 million copies worldwide. Poker face was written by GaGa and RedOne. GaGa described in an interview that Poker face was a tribute to her rock 'n' roll boyfriends. The song is basically about GaGa's bisexuality, sex, gambling and about her fascination for women. Lady Gaga. Addeddate 2020-12-04 16:19:30 Identifier lady-gaga-g.-u.-y.... Lady Gaga - Million Reasons.mp3 download. 4.6M. Lady Gaga - Music To My Eyes.mp3 download. 4.7M. Lady Gaga - Paparazzi.mp3... Lady Gaga - Poker Face.mp3 download. 4.3M. Lady Gaga.

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Lady Gaga. You May Also Like: Bad Romance (Lady Gaga) Speechless (Lady Gaga) Poker Face (Glee Cast) Arrangements of This Song: View All. Product Type: Musicnotes. Product #: MN0169251. More Songs From the Album: Lady Gaga - Joanne. Jan 18, 2018 · Fans were convinced from the start that "Million Reasons" is a song about Gaga's heartbreak after she and Kinney broke up. In an interview with Howard Stern on SiriusXM, Gaga flat-out said. Lollapalooza 2007 - Day 2. Credit: Jason Squires/WireImage. Even before the release of her debut album, 2008's The Fame, Gaga had begun developing her early glitter-glam aesthetic. Performing at.

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Always Remember Us This Way Lady Gaga Million Reasons Lady Gaga Poker Face Lady Gaga Bad Romance Lady Gaga Just Dance (feat. Colby O'Donis) Lady Gaga The Cure Lady Gaga Paparazzi Lady Gaga Shallow (Radio Edit) Lady Gaga & Bradley Cooper Similar Songs TRACK ARTIST SHAZAMS Just Dance Lady Gaga 60,888 Telephone DJ 837 11,656 Love Game In da Club. About Press Copyright Contact us Creators Advertise Developers Terms Privacy Policy & Safety How YouTube works Test new features Press Copyright Contact us Creators. Lady Gaga - Poker Face Lyrics from album: The Fame (2008) Mum mum mum mah Mum mum mum mah Mum mum mum mah Mum mum mum mah Mum mum mum mah I wanna hold em like they do in Texas please Fold em let em hit me raise it baby stay with me, I love it Luck and intuition play the cards with Spades to start.

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Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta, who performs under the stage name Lady Gaga, is an Academy Award, Golden Globe & Grammy-winner singer, songwriter and musician from New York City, New York, United States. Before Gaga adopted her stage name she was in a band called Stefani Germanotta Band. She released her first EP, "Red and Blue", in early 2006. Million Reasons Lyrics. You're giving me a million reasons to let you go. You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show. You're givin' me a million reasons. Give me a million reasons. Givin' me a million reasons. About a million reasons. If I had a highway, I... Write an interpretation.

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Lady Gaga recently released a pink colour dominated video for her hit track 'Million Reasons' from her latest album Joanne.. The four minute video starts off with the 30-year-old songstress in the desert with a bunch of black SUVs coming to her rescue to take her to her video shoot, where she prepares to sing in her signature pink ensemble. Lyrics. You're giving me a million reasons to let you go You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show You're giving me a million reasons Give me a million reasons Giving me a million reasons About a million reasons If I had a highway, I would run for the hills If you could find a dry way, I'd forever be still But you're giving me a. Скачать Poker Face №670161725 в исполнении Lady Gaga песню скачать в mp3 —... Lady Gaga - Poker Face. 03:57. Lady Gaga, Bradley Cooper - Shallow. 03:35. Lady Gaga - Americano.... Lady Gaga - Million Reasons. 03:24. Lady Gaga - MANiCURE. 03:19. Lady Gaga - ARTPOP. 04:07. Lady Gaga - Poker Face.

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Tono: C. (Intro) C Am F G (Primeira Parte) C You're giving me a million reasons to let you go Am You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show F You're givin' me a million reasons Give me a million reasons G Givin' me a million reasons About a million reasons C If I had a highway, I would run for the hills Am If you could find a dry way. Poker Face. Para otros usos de este término, véase Poker Face (desambiguación). «Poker Face» en YouTube. « Poker Face » —en español: « Cara de póquer »— es una canción de la artista estadounidense Lady Gaga, presente en su álbum debut, The Fame.

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[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request the Obey Me guys as well as the Now Dateables?

Perhaps M/C crawling into bed with them wanting to be held and to be touched.

Perhaps a little nsfw added in 🤤😉

note: this is the only imagine/scenario I will do for all 11 boys. cuz I’m a thirsty bitch. the rest of the time we will stick to the rules of HCs only.

Additionally, the plot has been changed slightly to ‘coming to their room at night’. Sorry. If you want NSFW stuff for a specific boy, based on the provided content, I’ll do it but 11 boys is too much even for my thirsty trappy ass.

Obey Me Boys + MC Crawling into Bed with Them

Lucifer

Lucifer sighed over his paper work. Would his turmoil never cease? 

Sometimes he felt like he had fallen into a lower level of the Devildom. Like the 13th circle of hell where the preferred torture method for lost souls was endless paperwork. A modern day Sisyphus, only instead of a boulder it was forms.

He heard the door to his room quietly click open & then close. He doesn’t look up from his paper work as he knew who it was. There was only one person, ok maybe two, who would come into his room this late at night without knocking. “What is it [Y/N]?”

“I was um...wait, you wear reading glasses?”

Lucifer frowned and looked up from his paper work now. “Magical reading glasses. For reading magical text.” They were required to read some of the magical scripts he was combing over. “What is it [Y/N]?”

The human squirmed a little when he asked again. Seeming to think over the answer, or more precisely how to explain it. “I couldn’t sleep.” They finally confess. “I was wondering if I could stay in here with you, but....you’re busy.”

Lucifer arched a brow slightly, but then moved some of the papers he had completed to make space for them. “Come on. I won’t be much longer.”

[Y/N] smiled at him and scampered over. Crawling in under the silk sheets, and as close as possible to him with him on top of them as they could. “Thank you Lucifer.”

“Of course, my dearest one.” He replied with a soft smile, leaning down to kiss the top of their head before returning to his work. Renewed in his commitment to get this done so he could spend the night with [Y/N].

Mammon

It was late. It was almost 3:00 in the morning by the time he got home, and it had been a shitty night.

Mammon had been at the casino. Gambling, drinking, dancing, the usual. His luck turned sour around 11:00 and, stupid Mammon, had spent the remaining four hours trying to turn it around. That of course didn’t work so now he was even more broke, defeated, and feeling like crap for his failure; regretting Lucifer finding out and making him feel worse. Fuck it had been the worst night.

He rounded the corner to his room and looked up in surprise to see [Y/N] at his door. “What are you doing here?” His voice seemed to surprise them too as they jumped a little before turning to him.

“Oh I was…coming to see if you wanted to hang out?”

“Hang out?” Mammon repeated with an arched brow. “Ya know it’s like 3:00 in the morning, right?”

“O-Oh…is it? I guess I miss read the time.” [Y/N] began to fidget, then muttered some apology about going back to their room.

The demon reached out and caught their hand before they could get far. “Hey, what’s wrong? Nobody comes out here in the middle of the night without a reason.” Or they were out super late like him.

[Y/N] looked down, then decided to tell the truth. “I couldn’t sleep. So I wanted to see you.”

Mammon blinked behind his shades. He hadn’t been expecting that. Now it was his turn to fidget as he realized out of all the people in the world, [Y/N] had chosen to come see him.

“Yeah well…of course ya’d come to the Great Mammon for help. I uh…guess you can stay in here with me tonight.”

He showered to get the smoke & stink of shame off before crawling into bed with [Y/N]. His little human already drifting off just being in his covers. Mammon wrapped his arms around them and held them close. Maybe it wasn’t the worst night after all.

Levi

Of course he was awake when [Y/N] came to his room. The latest install of Kenji Momotaro: Demon Slayer Warrior Prince had just been released that day, and Levi he been playing it since he had gotten his hands on it. He wouldn’t be sleeping for a while.

When he heard the knock on his door, initially missing it over the sound of his game and tunnel vision, Levi paused for the first time in hours to go see who it was. “[Y/N]-chan?”

“Can…I stay in here with you?” They asked. Catching Levi by surprise. “I can’t sleep in my room.”

The blunette blushed violently, and covered his face. “Y-Y-You….You want to sleep in here with me??”

“Is…that ok?” They asked cautiously. Seeming let down by his reaction.

“No. I mean! Yes! W-What I mean is, I’m not going to bed right now. I’m grinding through my new game so….you might not be happy in here.” Plus, his bed was a bathtub. Which was only comfortable to him.

“Oh. Well…I don’t want to mess up your game. If that’s more important to you.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Levi outburst. Then quickly covered his mouth in embarrassment. “I…I just don’t think you’ll get a lot of sleep in here. I only like my room after all.”

“I like your room.” If Levi turned any redder, he was going to get a nose bleed. “It’s dark, which is nice. Plus the aquariums are really soothing. And…you’re there. I just wanted to be around you since I couldn’t sleep, but I guess that’s silly.”

The demon had to cover his mouth again. This time over threat of nose bleed. He was so red from embarrassment, but also incredibly moved by [Y/N]’s words, that he quickly responded, “you can stay with me.”

He moved aside and let [Y/N] in. Leading them over to his game area where he laid out some plushies as a bed, and pulled out a blanket to cover them. “I-I-I…I’m gonna keep playing since I’m not tired. But I’ll put my headphones on so I don’t disturb you. Y-Y-You can lay down here and i-i-if you fall asleep I won’t mind.”

“Thanks Levi.” He had to gulp at the cute sleepy way they said his name, before they tucked in and he went back to his game.

He couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the game, with [Y/N] so close. Choosing to use his leg as a pillow. Eventually he gave up and leaned back against the edge of his tub, not daring to disturb them and actually getting a good night sleep as well.

Asmo

There were few things that Asmo considered sacred. Love. Vitality. The Louis Vuitton spring collection.

But the one thing he considered sacred most of all, was his beauty sleep regiment.

The Avatar of Lust had a strict sleep schedule to give his body the best rejuvenation possible, and amplify his beauty. Everyone knew about it, and choose to leave Asmo alone; per his wishes.

Which was why it was so frustrating when his rest was disturbed by a knock at the door.

Asmo grumbled under his sleep mask at the light rapping that wouldn’t go away. Irritated by the noise, and now the worry lines whoever it was was putting into his forehead. He pushed his mask up to his hair line and got up out of bed towards the door. “What?!” He said in a not cute, very moody outburst when he opened it. Seeing [Y/N] standing there, startled by his ugly display. “Oh, [Y/N]-kun. It’s you.”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah it’s me. Sorry to wake you, I’ll just…go.”

“Wait [Y/N]! I’m sorry. If I had known it was you paying me a late night visit, I would have been much nicer and answered the door sooner.”

“Well I….couldn’t sleep so…-“Ahhhh~! You couldn’t sleep so you decided to come to me?? How naughty!”

[Y/N] frowned and turned to leave, but Asmo apologized quickly for being cheeky. “Did you want to stay with me tonight? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” He could tell he was right, but the human was second guessing themselves on coming here. “I promise I’ll behave. Really.”

[Y/N] seemed to trust them, and came into the room & into bed with Asmo. He was practically giddy with them being so close, but was true to his word and supplied no funny stuff for the evening. Just rest and cuddles.

In the morning, he couldn’t wait to tell his brothers how he slept with [Y/N] last night. Causing quite the intentional misunderstanding and ruckus over breakfast that day.

Satan

Satan was getting ready for bed. Pjs on, teeth brushed, uniform set out for tomorrow, and on his bed reading one last chapter of his latest book, when he heard the knock at the door.

At first he thought it was a branch hitting the glass of his window. But when he heard it again, he knew it was at his door, and had a very The Raven moment before he went to answer it.

“[Y/N]? What are you doing here? It’s so late.”

“I know, I know,” the replied, scratching the back of their head. “I just…I couldn’t sleep. I tried but I just couldn’t get to sleep, and wanted to see you.” They look up at him with big doe eyes and ask, “can I stay with you tonight?”

Of course, he couldn’t say no. Not with a look like that. Or more importantly, he’d never say no to [Y/N]. Satan offered them a soft smile and nodded before letting them in.

“What were you reading?” They asked, as the climbed into bed first. Watching Satan put his book away for them.

“Oh, just a new fiction series I found. Simeon recommended it to me.” He said as he climbed into bed as well.

“What’s it about?”

He told them the premise of the story, and eventually read aloud the first few chapters to them as they curled up beside him. Falling asleep soon after.

Satan smiled again, and put the book back away, before leaning down to kiss their forehead and curl in beside them. Ready for bed now.

Beel

It was pretty late when he heard the knock on the door. And a miracle he heard it at all.

Belphie was the sleeper out of the two of them, but Beel wasn’t exactly a light sleeper either. Between his workouts, large meals, and having to get up early for his morning workouts, the red head was usually dead to the world when his head hit the pillow. But, still, when he heard the quite knock on the door he woke up. 

If he were a thinker like Satan or the others, he would have thought that it was maybe their bond that woke him. Instead he just trudged half asleep towards the door to open it. “[Y/N]?”

“S-Sorry....” They apologize and look towards the ground as Beel looked at them curiously. “I knew you were asleep, but I still woke you up. I’m sorry.”

“Is something wrong?” Beel asked. A bit more awake now that he knew it was them and they seemed distressed. [Y/N] shrugged. “Did you have a bad dream?” 

They pause for a while, but then shrug again. He might not be a thinker like the others, but he was smart enough to know what that meant. He reached out to take their hand and pulled them into his room. Leading them over to his bed and pulling them onto it.

“Don’t worry. You can stay here.” Beel said, holding [Y/N] to his chest in a horizonal hug. “I’ll keep you safe. You don’t have to worry while I’m here. Go back to sleep.”

His words seem to do the trick, and [Y/N] feel back asleep. Beel stayed awake a little while longer. Combing his fingers through their hair, before he too fell back asleep.

Belphie

He heard the conversation from the door, but didn’t bother getting up.

The only thing that could break through when he was asleep was Beel and [Y/N]’s voice. So hearing them both woke him up pretty quickly, although it seemed to be handled. 

He tried to go back to sleep after hearing you settle in, but it didn’t work. The usually lazy demon kept fidgeting in his sleep, trying to get comfortable, and even counting sheep to try and go back to dream land. Nothing worked. And he knew why.

Belphie got up out of bed, hugging his pillow to his chest, and walked over to the over bed across the room and kicked it. When Beel and [Y/N] looked up at him half asleep he demanded, “move over.” He couldn’t sleep know that [Y/N] was cuddling up with someone else and not him. Especially in the same room.

[Y/N] huffed in their sleep and laid back down, scooching closer to Beel to try and make space. Beel, on the other hand, smile sleepily up as his twin and properly moved over; back pressed against the wall with [Y/N] at his chest to give him as much space as possible.

Belphie smiled back at him, then dropped his pillow to climb in. Instantly falling asleep. Holding on to his twin and beloved [Y/N] for the rest of the night.

Simeon

Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. Those were the words that Simeon tried to live by

He was just about to slip under the covers happily, when he heard a small knock at the door. It was so faint & small, that he assumed it was Luke needing something. So he quickly went over to answer it without putting his robe on.

“Oh…[Y/N]….” The angel said, feeling his cheeks heat up and clinching for his imaginary robe to cover his pjs, when he realized it was you. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t mean in the Hall. You were stay in the other dorm for a while as an infestation of some icky, demon creepy crawly, that just loved to nibble on humans was dealt with in the House of Lamentation. Luke of course had been thrilled you were staying with them, insisting that the change be made permanent to keep you away from those rowdy demons. Simeon couldn’t really agree on the demon part, but he wouldn’t be disappointed if you stayed here more.

“I…couldn’t sleep,” you tell him. “New surroundings and all. I was…wondering if I could stay in your room?”

The angel seemed to bristle in surprise at your words. Taken aback, but also in the warm feeling that was spreading through his chest. God have mercy…..

“I don’t know if that would be appropriate.”

“Please?” [Y/N] beckoned. He had to gulp down the lump, and instantaneous urge to say yes, building in his throat. “I just don’t want to sleep alone. I keep thinking about those things in my room back at the dorm. And being around you is so comforting. Just for tonight? I’ll sleep on the couch and everything if that’s a problem.”

“I wouldn’t let you do that.” Simeon insisted. He would never let them sleep on the couch like some vagabond. “Well….alright. But just for tonight. And just because you’re feeling unsettled.” He doesn’t know who he was trying to convince more: them or himself.

He didn’t get much sleep that night. Tense, and trying to remain appropriate even is they slept next to him. But, in a way, it was the best night he had ever had.

Solomon

He always stayed up late. The late to early morning hours were the best time for magic. The witching hour. He was knee deep into his research & spell casting when he heard the knock at the door.

“I..saw the light on…” [Y/N] said when he opened the door. “Are you…going to bed soon?”

Solomon blinked for a moment, then looked down at his pocket watch. Oh, it was rather late. But….“No. I still have quite a bit of work to do.”

The other human sighed, then turned to leave from his door just as suddenly as they came. “Wait. What is it?” He asked, stopping them.

They turn, and seem to debate about answering before, “I couldn’t sleep and was thinking it might be nice to cuddle with you.” Solomon blinked again. In surprise this time. “Stupid, right?”

No, not stupid, he thought. It was just no on had ever asked to cuddle with him before. His body and cool demeanor might be misleading, but he was a very fierce sorcerer. Powerful, and awe inspiring. He had made cities tremble in his young days, and was powerful enough to independently bind one of the strongest demons in hell. Cuddles were not something that one usually thought of when it came to him.

He opened the door to let them in and said, “if you can’t sleep, I can make you a potion.” When that didn’t seem to go over well he corrected with, “or…I could lay down with you for a moment.”

The ‘moment’ turned into the whole evening, because the second his head hit the pillow, he instantly fell asleep. Lulled to dream land by his many late nights, and the warm embrace of [Y/N]. Perhaps there were better things than just getting research done.

Diavolo

He groaned in his sleep. Then rolled over on his side, immediately pulling [Y/N] in when he was in close proximity of them. It was a reflex at this point.

At first, he had tried to keep his distance from the human exchange student. No good would come from it, and it was inappropriate that the future King & patron of the program would be involved with one of the terrestrial candidates. But he couldn’t help it.

Their brightness. Their smile. Their hope for the program and just life won him over and now he couldn’t stand to be further apart from them than a second.

“It’s morning....”

Divaolo groaned and buried his head into the back of their neck. “Five more minutes...”

“We can’t. It’s morning.” [Y/N] insisted. Jutting their hips back against his front; which had the opposite effect of trying to get him out of bed. “If you don’t go, Barbatos will start looking for you. And if he teleports into my room it will be a whole thing.”

That certainly was a metaphoric splash of cold water.

The prince groaned again, and buried himself deeper for a second, before he compliantly agreed and got up. The little full bed in the student dorms joyful of his departure, as it squeaked happily as he tried to leave it.

“Can I come again tonight?” Diavolo asked, as he adjusted his ornate bed clothes. He never slept in them. Like most things in his life, they were all for show.

[Y/N] smiled at him from under their covers and said, “of course.”

His heart swelled at their smile and the promise of later. Surging forward he gave them an impassioned good morning kiss, and told them, “wait up for me.” Before he disappeared in a whirl of black smoke to his own bedroom.

It felt terribly cold now. But he only had to wait until tonight. That he could live for.

Barbatos

The work of a butler is never really done.

There were always things to do. More chores to complete. More tasks to do. Particularly in the life of the royal butler. But Barbatos never complained about his job. He was literally born for it, and took great pride in his work. No matter how small the task.

When he heard the small bell, harking a summons from on of the guest rooms, Barbatos stopped polishing the silver and immediately went upstairs to see what was needed. “You called, [Y/N]?” He asked upon arrival. Calm as ever, and ready to help. “How may I be of assistance?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you up here.” They apologized. “I just….couldn’t sleep.”

Barbatos chuckled a little with a soft smile. “No need to apologize, [Y/N]. You’re a guest here, and a friend of the young master.” As well as a dear person to him. “I’m happy to help with anything you need. Might I make you some soothing nightshade tea? That seems to do the trick for most people.”

“N-No. No I…I was wondering….if you’d just sit with me for a while.” The human looked down at the ornate bed spread. Picking at the embroidery in a nervous manner. “Til I fall back asleep?”

The demon smiled again, and came over to sit on the edge of the bed. Holding them in the most comfortable manner possible with him on top of the covers, and them under them. “That is a simple thing.” He told them softly. “Close your eyes. I shall stay with you until you are asleep, and make sure you are taken care of.”

“Thank you.” [Y/N] said lazily. Already closing their eyes and falling back asleep with him close.

The work of a butler was never really done. But this was a task he was happy to do.

[dumbfuck-mojave]

17 of that kiss prompt thing w randy 😧😧👹👹

SO TRUE OF YOU

Title: Number 17

Franchise: Scream

Pairing: Randy Meeks x Reader

Also Featured: Nobody but you two :^)

Warnings: Food, Swearing, Randy and the reader playfully tease each other.

A/N: It’s bullying Randy time again folks! I took a few weeks break, I’ll admit, but I’m getting back into things with a few shorter requested pieces taken from this prompt list, so expect a few coming your way ;). I’ll get back to my pre-planned stuff eventually. Everyone thank B for the great choice ISTG.

Word Count: 787

@bambitheghostfaceapologist @f1nalboys @highonbandcandy get nae nae’d

“I’ve been channel surfing for the past 20 minutes, how is there nothing good on?”

Randy and you were snuggled up on the couch, attempting to pass time until the clock hit 12 to signify the new year. While you were content watching the running program for the event, Randy had quickly gotten fed up with the wait and had only held out 30 minutes before suggesting, or more pleading, to find something different on the TV. Being the generous partner you are, and not really caring either way, you had agreed and had spent the last couple hours enjoying whatever was playing on Nick at Nite, comfortably situated against your man. 

“Babe. There’s only like 10, 15 minutes until the ball drops? Just change it back,” You leaned in to press a kiss on his cheek,” Promise it won’t kill you.” 

Randy sniggered, “No, someone’s already tried to do that.” 

You gasped and shot up to glare at him, “Stop that.” 

Randy was full blown laughing now, wheezes of breath coming at as he barely tried to hide it, “Sorry, sorry, it’s my coping mechanism.” 

His face went completely blank for a moment as he made eye contact with you, “You can at least laugh with me, I didn’t get shot for nothing.” 

A surprised bark of sound escaped you as Randy started up again, which caused you to develop into a fit of laughter as well. 

“Ok, ok.” You huffed as you stood up, only to be stopped as Randy’s arms held onto you in a loose, but surprisingly strong, grip, “I’m going to make popcorn! Let me leave, sir.” 

Randy's arms flopped down dramatically on top of him and you skipped into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of popcorn out of the cabinet and *popping* it into the microwave after a few good shakes. You hear the announcer’s voice fill the living room, surrounded by the cheering voices of the excited crowd as the big event draws closer. You were about to zone out until your eyes drifted over to the sink, and your mind comes up with an evil idea. 

Padding over to the front of the sink, you clasp the decorative knob and start to turn it. Deciding you have little time to ease into it, you twist until a strong, steady stream of ice cold liquid flows out of it and stick your hands under it, slightly jolting as you felt just how cold it was. You spent the rest of the waiting time moving them around, feeling the brisk chill as it cascaded over your hands and pulling them out when it got too biting and stiff. You heard the soft beeping just as Randy yelled for you from the living room. 

“It’s time to see New York’s balls drop!” 

“I hate you!” You yell back as you quickly dumped the bag into one frosted plastic bowl and hurried back into the living room just as the crowd on TV marched through the countdown. 

“Hi.” You said as you set the bowl on the coffee table, falling back into your spot next to Randy, but keeping your hands from touching him, “So, am I lucky enough to get a kiss this New Year’s?”

Randy smirked at you, “Possibly.” 

“Oh, shut up.”

He glanced back at the screen, “Ready.”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He clears his throat, and you smile. 

“3, 2, 1.” You chant in unison as the ball reaches its destination, and you waste no time throwing your arms around Randy’s neck and pulling him on top of you. 

You lay there for a minute or two, just enjoying each other’s presence. But you set your dastardly plan into motion, slowly moving your arms from his neck and down his body until you reach his untucked t-shirt. 

Then, you swiftly stuff your hands under it, splaying your still-cold palms against his sensitive lower back as Randy gasps suddenly and near launches away from you. 

“HOLY FUCK WHY ARE YOUR HANDS SO COLD.”

You giggled as you waved them towards him, “Trade secret.” 

“Is that what you were doing?!?! Making your hands freezing to torment me?!” The look on betrayal is something you could, and would, tease him about for the next week to come. 

“Hey, I made the popcorn too! There was just such a long wait, and I wanted to give you the true New York experience; absolutely unhinged cold.” 

It was Randy’s turn to glare at you as he snatched up the bowl from the coffee table, scooting to the farthest end of the couch, “Yeah, and now you don’t get any of it.”

“You know you love me~.

“Maybe I did, I’m not so sure now.” 

[whysojiminimnida]

My Real Favorite Moment of 2021

Because let's be honest, I feel like hardly anyone saw this. Those of us who did see it didn't believe it at first. It got almost zero traction on social media. And yet it's one of those Big Gesture Loud Gay things Jungkook does sometimes and when I tell you I was living, kids, I WAS. LIVING. Don't worry, I'mma show it to you. Here's the full video from The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, dated May 25, 2021. Watch it all, it's cute and we watch original content in this household for truth and context.

Yeah yeah fear the double bunny, Koo invented Spock's thingy, someone stole Jimin's pogo stick and Seokjin can summon talk show hosts with his magic double joints. Hobi looks very pretty. We got that part. FF to 3:57. Watch it. Watch it again. Rewind it and watch it one more time, Jungkook focus. Still no? Try this. Don't hit the play button on the .jpgs tho. I mean nothing will happen but we all do that and it always feels dumb when we do. Still shots below:

Look at Jungkookie. See how everyone else is just buttering toast like good talk show guests? Not our Koo. This double bunny is pointing at... his heart? Himself in general? Looks like his heart, it's on the left, where his heart is. He points not at toast. There is no buttering going on here. (Or anything straight but we're getting there). So then--

Oh, he has just given up the toast buttering song promo agenda at this point and nobody is paying attention to this like... I know I always say Koo ain't slick but I feel like this one time he kinda was. HE EVEN PAUSES FOR A FULL SECOND just to be sure we're looking because...

He flies that pointed finger just as gaily as possible (well he couldn't very well point it straight could he) over his right shoulder. At Jimin. Who is not even seeing this are you fucking KIDDING ME? I saw this live and stopped my DVR. I really hope Jiminie caught it on the rewatch, if there was one. BECAUSE JEON JUNGKOOK JUST DID THAT. The rest of the Tannies just doing their jobs and Jungkook is out here in front of God 'n'em pointing out that Jimin has his heart on national American network fucking television AND HARDLY ANYONE SAID BOO ABOUT IT. To this day I have only seen this moment come up a handful of times and people always seem mildly confused. Maybe because it was so fast (it was). Maybe because they were blinded by OT7 beauty (they are beautiful). Maybe they just couldn't believe that Jeon Jungkook, Korea's Sassiest Gay Little Shit (I say it with love) just pulled that off. Personally? I was stunned. AM I CRAZY OVER HERE? Wait, don't answer that. Because legit I have a diagnosis or so, even though I have had a lot of therapy and I don't even take meds anymore. I could use something nice for anxiety but that's beside the point. ANYWAY OKAY FINE I AM POSSIBLY INSANE BUT. I AM NOT WRONG. So while I am very late on a couple of promised posts (I see you shoulder grip and MiniMoni and I am so sorry, my brain sucks, we're still compiling photos over here), this would not leave my brain as one of my favorite Jungkook Gives No Fucks For Your Closet moments ever. You can explain away a lot of stuff but this. This is clear, it is deliberate, it is public, and if you watch it six times and still don't see what I see then I will wear my hat proudly and call it a You Problem. Happy 2022, everyone!

[phoenixyfriend]

Uhh for the prompt meme, 3 & 13 gives me Anakin and the Jedi Babies vibes, so Jango or Jaster & Anakin or Soka or Ben maybe?

390 Prompts!!!! 3. “Am I supposed to be scared of you?” 13. “BOOM! That oughta show you not to mess with me!”

IDK if I’ll get the actual line in but I’ve been meaning to write a bit about Jango and Sokanth, at minimum. Jango is just barely fifteen, Soka is two. She has very vague memories of her teen self.

EDIT: I GOT THE LINE IN

Objectively, Jango’s main connection to Anakin Skywalker should have been professional.

It wasn’t.

Jango hadn’t been one of the soldiers to bring in the little family. He’d heard about it after they’d already been taken to medical, arrived just in time to see them muttering about how fancy the prosthetic arm was as they removed it--frostbite risk, they said--and stripping the Jedi of his sodden robes. The man was only a few years older than Jango, and covered in battle scars. Attractive, maybe, but Jango wouldn’t be able to even think of that until he wasn’t staring at blue lips on a half-dead face.

“How did he know we were here?” he asks his father, stepping up beside the man at the overlarge window of the ‘secure’ medical room, and receiving half a glance in response.

“He didn’t,” Jaster says, looking supremely unhappy with the entire situation. “Had no idea who I was, when he saw me.”

“He talked to you?”

“For about five seconds before he passed out.” Jaster smiles, thin and grim. “We found an Ident card. It’s got a name, a few details that don’t make sense... we think it might have been prepared for a long-term mission in system with a non-standard calendar; the dates are in the future if we assume it’s Republic.”

“Weird,” Jango mutters. “He doesn’t look much like a Jedi.”

“Adi’ka, you’ve never met a Jedi,” Jaster scoffs, cuffing him on the shoulder.

“Jedi don’t wear black leather,” Jango argues, glancing at the nearest pile of cloth.

Jaster rolls his eyes. “He had four lightsabers on him, if that’s what you’re looking to ask.”

“Haran.” Jango whistles lowly, impressed despite himself. “What’d he need that many for?”

“The brown robes were too short for him,” Jaster says, voice not quite loud enough to carry. “And the other set were fit for a female youngling, even shorter.”

He hadn’t been alone.

And now he was.

“Bodies?” Jango asks.

“None dead,” Jaster says. “And the living are... far too young to match up.”

He gestures, and Jango belatedly sees the tiny, tiny things in cribs to the side.

Jango swears, quiet and angry. He’d heard there were children, but he hadn’t expected anyone quite that small.

Jaster takes the cursing in stride. “They’re estimating the human at six months. Togruta’s maybe two years. Jedi was damn near dead when they found him, but the kids seem fine. Medics are guessing it’s something to do with the Force, because neither of them were even that cold.”

“Any idea how he knows them?”

“Nothing yet, just that he cares about them like they’re his own,” Jaster says. “Scouting party claimed he said they were family. Even used Mando’a, called them aliit. We’re going to keep them together until we know more. No use accidentally enraging a Jedi by separating him from family, if that’s what they are. The Togruta seems to know him, at least.”

“I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to have families.”

“You also thought Jedi weren’t supposed to wear black leather.”

Jango huffs and turns away from his father, focusing in on how the medics are starting to pack in blankets on the man’s chest while they get to work on the thigh wound. It looks already cauterized, maybe a blaster, but that can still get infected damned easily. Jango’s seen it happen before.

“Can the togruta talk yet?”

“Only enough to ask for her... carer?” Jaster hazards. “She refers to him as ‘Skyguy’ and it’s been pretty much the only word she’s said that isn’t gibberish.”

Jango almost asks if they’re sure it’s not just Togruti.

Even as he watches the area below, the toddler starts crying. A few of the medics dart glances over, but they're busy with the adult. The crying starts increasing in pitch, heading to dangerous territory, and a number of people abruptly remember that a Togruta's cry is much more likely to destroy eardrums than a human child's.

Jango hesitates, but turns from his father and heads for the door. Nobody comments.

Jango slips into the room as quietly as a teenager in most of a beskar kit can, and goes over to the cribs that have been hastily set up. The human infant is quiet, blinking sleepily and furrowing their little brow, but the toddler has gotten to her feet, clinging to the bars and screaming her little head off. He stops in front of her and... tries to figure out what to do.

"Weks?"

He has no idea if that's a word. She's stopped screaming at least, is just rubbing her eyes free of tears and peering up at him. She hiccups.

"Hi," he says, unsure of what else to do.

"No weks," she seemingly decides, and her lip trembles. Kriff. "Obi-obi?"

"I don't know what you're saying," he tells her, but offers a hand that she immediately grabs for. "Do you know Basic?"

"Ya!" she cheers, and then starts trying to climb out of the crib. Jango panics and picks her up, because he's pretty sure this might be a Jedi baby, and if it's a Jedi baby, then what if she can float? He can't deal with an upset, floating baby. Better he just pick her up.

"Hi," he repeats, still unsure of what to do with this small child. She frowns at him, deep in thought, and pats at his face like she's trying to figure it out. "What are you--"

"Shi-ny," she suddenly insists. "Like Tup."

He has no idea what she's trying to say. "Sure."

She frowns harder at him, and then leans forward and drops her head against his beskar, seemingly unaware of how uncomfortable it's going to be. "Shiny. Weks 'n' Cody 'n' Echo 'n' vod."

"You don't even know my name," Jango says, panicking a little. "You can't call me vod."

"Shhhh now," she says, patting blindly at his mouth. He tries to crane his head away. He mostly fails. "Sleepy."

"Wh--okay," he decides. Sure. If it keeps her quiet, sure. He goes to sit down, and she immediately turns and tries to grab for her... fellow child? He has no idea what they are to each other.

"No!"

"Okay, okay, we can stay with the other baby!" Jango assures her, trying to bounce her up and down like he's seen new parents do, looking frantically for a chair to pull over. "I'm going to get a chair and we'll come right back, okay?"

She looks up at him, tears gathering. "Pwomise?"

"Uh, yeah, I promise."

He lets her bury her face back against his chest, and quickly grabs the nearest chair and drags it over to the cribs. He ignores the medics for the most part, just focuses on holding the toddler that he has, mostly against his own will, become temporarily responsible for. "Do you have a name?"

She just whines and cuddles closer. He sighs.

"Well, I'm Jango. So, you don't have to call me that other stuff." He moves a hand to pull her away from where she's about to topple off his lap. She grabs for it and pulls it to her face, apparently forgetting that she'd just declared herself sleepy. She examines the glove in fascination. "Please definitely don't call me vod. You have people here, and I just met you. Wait for your, uh, Skyguy? Wait for your Skyguy to wake up."

She bites his fingers. He pulls his hand away, swearing under his breath and panicking just a little. "Don't put that in your mouth, do you have any idea where my gloves have been?"

She bares her teeth at him and growls. Given that her teeth are barely more than nubs, this doesn't do much. "Am I supposed to be scared of you?"

"Ya!"

"I am not."

She pouts and whines and throws herself back against the beskar, causing a thunking noise as her montral hits the plate. She does not seem perturbed by the collision, just twists somehow closer and sticks her thumb in her mouth.

That is... also probably covered in germs. He looks over at the crib, spots a pacifier, and awkwardly leans to grab it without dropping the toddler in his lap or standing up and making it harder for her to start falling asleep again. There's a little togruta on it, which he figures means it's not going to be a choking hazard for non-human teeth. "Here, chew this instead."

She makes a curious noise and lifts her head. She wrinkles her nose at the pacifier, and then looks up at him. "Jan-Jan, no."

"Wh--you know what, no, you're a kid, I can't get angry at you for getting my name wrong," he sighs. "Take the pacifier, it's cleaner than your hand."

"No!"

"Please?" He tries.

She glares at him a little harder and then huffs. "Kay. Cuz shiny."

He still has no idea what that means, but if it gets her to fall asleep with this thing in her mouth instead of her dubiously-clean hand, he's fine with it.

(When he learns what shiny means, he will be much less fine with it.)

(It'll be far too late by that point, of course.)

[i-like-sparkly-things]

Beautiful?

A Halstead!Sister

'But they don't know. They don't know what it's like to be you. They didn't know what it was like to wake up everyday, to a body you never asked for.

A body nobody wanted.'

Warnings : eating disorder, body insecurities, body dismorphia

Requested : Yup, by anon , 'could u do a fic where she has an eating disorder? and doesn’t tell jay but then one day she passes out at school and has to tell him?'

Word count : 1.7k

Note : this took too long I don't know why 😭but yall Guess who's thankful that yall bear with my English ? me. :) and ps this is my first request!! And yall please please know that all of you are so freaking beautiful and worth fighting for. Know that you are loved and it is never, ever weak to ask for help.

**************************

The constant pain and sleepless nights were paying off. Your eyes sparkled when you saw your new numbers. It was working.

You took your diary, crossing out breakfast on the to do list after eating a banana.

This was going to be simple. check what you eat, check your weight and repeat . You knew that if you tried really hard, you would be the one in control.

Control. That's all you wanted. Such an easy, yet painful thing.

You looked to the mirror, as your hands hovered over your ribs sticking to the skin . You'd never felt so beautiful in your life. But your eyes roamed down to your thighs. The flesh of your legs were touching. It wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

'' Y/n , come on ! Move your ass! I need to get to work!! '' Jay shouted for you, from downstairs.

'' Shut uppp I'm comingg'', you yelled back.

Ever since your mom had died, dad always kept to himself leading you to stay with your brothers. It had become a routine. Jay  would drop you off at school and Annie's mom would give you a ride home.

Lucky for you , Jay was constantly busy with cases. He hadn't noticed your new diet or the mood swings.

**************************

Your teacher had started the lesson. And slowly you sensed something wrong. Your head was pounding. God why is she so blurry? You look to Anne sitting next to you and she's Blurry too. You felt your body giving up to the swaying ground.

'' y/n!! '' Annie shreiked as your limp body crashed to the floor.

****************************

'' Chuckles!? '' Trudy called out,climbing the stairs to intelligence. "Do I look like a cocktail waitress to you? Where have you been??"

"Morning to you too, sarge" Jay sighed. "and its detective"

" Well , Detective , Y/n fainted at school and wanted you to pick her up"

"What ?" he asked shocked, aldready beginning to pick up his jacket.

"Sarge" he said, looking to Voight for approval, although he would leave nonetheless. "Go."

*****************************

"Mr. Halstead" the school nurse addressed him, as he entered the clinic.

"Call me jay. Y/n, are you okay? what the hell happened?" he asked you worried.

You had never fainted before and apart from the flu every couple of years, you had a clean bill of health, as far as he knew.

"Jay, I promise I'm fine. Just got a little dizzy, that's all" you answered knowing how overprotective he can get. Now all you could hope for was that he would let this slide.

"I tried getting some food in her but she told me she was fine" the nurse explained to Jay.

God No. the the salad she offered you had so many calories.  you had made too much progress nothing was going to stop you especially a simple fainting episode. It was a minor setback but you were sure you could continue your weight loss diet.

" What, WHY? " he questioned, but just  as you were thinking of a better reply " You know what, I'm gonna take her home." he interrupted your thoughts as he spoke to the nurse.

" Only if you are sure, you're good"

" I am Jay. One hundred percent." you replied, happy to skip the rest of the school day.

It's not like you've been paying attention any ways. You'd zone out a lot during class and  your constant hunger and cramps didn't help either. But you drowned these feelings away with small sips of water and occasional slices of cucumbers.

You Craved the Emptiness. the feeling of being lighter. The feeling of being....... perfect. It was intoxicating.

Taking your school bag, Jay wrapped a study arm around your shoulders , guiding you through the school corridors and towards his truck.

"God, I can't wait to go to bed", You said climbing the truck and fastening your seat belt.

"Yeah right. I'm taking you to med" he stated. "WHAT? Jay, what the hell ? I told you, I'm fine!!"

You knew Will was working and didn't want either of your brothers to know about your new diet or how much weight you had lost. It was too late to quit. The disgusting image in the mirror was slowly getting better..... getting thinner, prettier.

"You've never fainted before Y/n, and I promise I'll get Will to run the exams and do all the tests" he assured you.

****************************

"Y/n, I thought I told you I never wanted to see you here again.", Maggie greeted, pointing a finger at you.

"Awwww  but I missed you", you pouted, " No don't do that. your brother's waiting in treatment room 3 so you better get going." she instructed and you dropped your school bag near the nurses station.

You and Jay enter the room, to a very worried Will. "Y/n, what happened?" he asked , gesturing you to sit on the bed.

"did you hit your head when you fell? Did you fall in the bathroom or something like that?", he continued, not giving you time to answer.

"what did the nurses say? are you stressed about school?" " Will-", you interrupted his rambling " I'm fine, just..... got a little dizzy."

You watched , as he took his pen light to your eyes. "Ah! Will, stop!!" You said, trying and failing to refrain him.

"You know, it'll be easier if you stop squirming" Jay commented with a smug smile. "Your not going anywhere"

"Shut up" you groaned.

You need to get out of here. What if they gave you food. What if they found out you were hungry all the time. They'd never stop making fun of you. They'd tell you that you were overreacting and that all this was so unnecessary.

But they didn't know. They didn't know what it was like to be you. They didn't have floppy arms or fleshy thighs. They didn't know what it was like to wake up everyday, to a body you never asked for. A body nobody wanted.

******************************

"Jay" Will called out, seeing him outside your room. It had been a couple of hours since you were bought in.

Will had ordered some tests, being the ass he was.

Wonderful. You just hoped that all the tests would be normal and you could get the hell out of there.

"yeah man? just needed to text Hailey, Why, what's wrong?" Jay asked, studying the worried expression on his brother's face

"It's Y/n. "

***************************

You were fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt when your brother's walked in, staring at you, as if you were a ghost.

"Y/n," Jay croaked out his voice laced with dread, "how long?"

No. No. No. This can't be happening. God, you knew that they were going to hate you forever.

"what the are you talking about?" you needed to try to get them to back away."Is something wrong?"

They were standing on either side of your bed. Jay came closer and sat down on your right the beside your knees, eyes never leaving yours.

"Your tests-" Will started, "They came back showing you have severe deficiencies. That your body is struggling to survive. That it's not getting enough food." he broke away from your gaze.

"We um-" Jay, as if almost on queue, continued."We looked through your school bag and found your diary. "

You sucked in a sharp breath and shook your head. No. He knew. They knew.

All your calorie counts, the amount of calories you can have in a day, your research on diets, workouts, to do lists, hell, even your Period Tracker was written down. (although you barely had it anymore)

That book was the reason you were finally becoming happy with yourself. Your body.

'I'm sorry', you mouthed "I'm so, so sorry" This was it. Your voice hitched, as tears flowed down your cheeks. "I was finally happy"

In an instant, your brothers were by your side.

Jay engulfed you into his chest, your words circling his mind. 'Finally?' God, you lived together! You were his sister! His baby sister! How could he have let this happen to you? How could he not have noticed that you were drowning? That you were starving yourself. What kind of brother was he?

Will rubbed your back, until your sobs became quieter. He was a doctor. A damn doctor! God knows how long this has been going on, but at the end of the day.... he failed. He failed to be there,..... when you needed him.

"Y/n, you don't have to do this. You're beautiful Y/n. You really are. And I'm sorry that anyone else has convinced in otherwise" Jay breathed out, hoping you heard him, in his embrace.

"It felt good, Jay" your voice was muffled by his shirt, but to your brothers, your voice was loud and clear.

"Did it?" You turned to Will, "Did the hunger feel good?" his heart broke saying the words out loud.

'Yes', you wanted to answer. Of course it felt good. You were getting so many compliments from your friends at school. Boys started acknowledging you now.

It was like you finally existed. You felt...... worthy.

But with all the strength you could muster up, you couldn't get the words out. Because there was always one voice that told you to quit. The voice you'd been drowning out for so long. The voice that told you, that you were in fact, beautiful.

Your mother's.

"No" you said, realizing that Will had tears in his eyes as well.

But you couldn't find a hint of shame in them, no matter how much you searched. Instead, you were met with the immense worry and guilt of your brother.

"We can help, Y/n" Will said, as he took your hand in his, "We will help and we'll be there every step of the way."

"Every step" Jay assured and you turned to him. "All you need to do, is let us in"

You weren't prepared for this. You had no idea what to say.

You didn't want to feel tired all the time, always craving for food. But the idea of going back - back to all that shame - that's what scared you.

"Y/n," Will spoke up, seeing as you were struggling to answer, "I promise you, we are going to make you feel better...... and we'll fight those thoughts of yours together."

You took a shaky breath.

Thoughts.

Your thoughts.

You had let them consume you for a long time now. Too long. maybe..... Maybe the right voice to follow, was your mothers'. "okay-" you sobbed, "okay", and once again you found yourself in Jay's arms.

You, clinging to him like your life depended on it and him holding you tight, because it did. His hand rested on your head, tangled with your hair.

Will saw a tear make its way down his brothers cheek, something he hasn't witnessed often.

Your brothers sat silently, listening to you cry. Taking in the conversation, only having a glimpse of the pain you were in.

You had a long, long road ahead but as you sat in your brother arms, you felt a sense of peace, comfort maybe.

******************************

Masterlist

[fatiguing-thoughts]

3 A.M. - Jacob Black x Reader

Summary: Hurting Jacob again. Hurting myself and all of you yet again. sorry, this is just my comfort. can’t help it lmaooo sorry jakey. ANGST!

I rolled over in the bed, searching for the heat that Jacob’s body radiated. 

The absence of his warmth left me cold. I sigh, opening my eyes to see where he was in the bed; his legs were no longer tangled with mine. His arms no longer wrapped around me. 

I search the room for any sign of Jacob, though the darkness promised no sign of him. 

Until I saw the light from the living room peak through under the door. His soft mumbles peaking my curiosity. 

“What time is it?” I mumble to myself, looking over to my nightstand. 

3 A.M. 

“Weird.” I mumble to myself. 

His soft voice immediately stopped, the silence was both deafening and concerning. 

I groggily got up, making my way to the kitchen to find Jacob sitting at the table. His phone face down on the table. 

“What’s up?” I whisper, rubbing my eyes. 

“Nothing, let’s get back to bed.” He hurries, forcing a small smile on his lips. 

“Wait, why were you up? Who were you talking to?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nobody.” 

His warm hands found mine as he stood up, beginning to lead me back to our bedroom. 

“Why are you hiding it from me?” I ask, tears pricking my eyes. 

“I’m not hiding anything, (Y/N).” 

“So let me see your phone.” I stop walking, looking over at the phone that laid on the table, pointing at the small device. 

“Let’s just go to bed.” He whispers, his eyes looking down, pleading into mine. 

“No.” I let out a huff of air, shaking my head. 

“Please...” 

“Jacob... You promised!” I choke on my sobs. 

“I can’t help it... I can’t. I’m so sorry.” He says as tears fall down his face.

“It’s her... isn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry.” He nods. 

I simply walk back into our room, him following close behind. 

“Please, wait...” He pleads. 

“No!” I turn around. “I can’t sit here and watch you love someone else. I will not sit here and be on the back burner. We were supposed to get married, Jacob! And now you’re sneaking off on the phone with her at three in the morning?” I almost laugh with disbelief. 

I walk over to the closet and begin packing a bag. 

“I am so sorry... I just, I can’t help it. You know it wasn’t a choice.” He looks down at me, his hand reaching over mine to stop me. “Please don’t go.” 

“I’m not sticking around to watch you love someone else. To find you sneaking behind my back. I’m leaving, Jacob.” I pull my hand away and continue packing my bag. 

I felt his weight hit the floor as he fell to his knees as I push past him, out of our bedroom door. 

“Goodbye Jacob.” I whisper. 

“Please... don’t go. I love you.” He chokes on his sobs. 

“I’m sorry.” I croak, shutting the door behind me and making my way over to my parent’s home. 

I heard his frustration coming out as I walked to my car. Some yelling, throwing things, and I felt the dread in the air. 

I laid my head on my steering wheel, my knuckles going white from gripping it so hard. 

It was over. Jacob and I were over. 

There would be no wedding, no never-ending love. He met his true soulmate. 

[tricktster]

the twilight series suddenly makes 100% more sense if you read them under a specific premise that, i contend, is heavily supported by the text:

Much like Amy’s diary in Gone Girl, the books in the Twilight Saga are verbatim reproductions of in-universe diary entries carefully and deliberately created and curated by badass unreliable narrator Bella Swan as a means to achieve immortality.

Prerequisite assumptions:

1) Bella actively and persistently wants to become a vampire, both diagetically and (I contend) non-diagetically. The average vampire novel format often fails to capture realistic human behavior in one highly specific area: the protagonists are frequently mortals who grapple with the choice of whether to become a vampire. This is stupid, because being a vampire would obviously be dope as hell; particularly in the Twilight Universe, where vampires are not required to take a human life to survive, and indeed, have the capacity to live full and rewarding lives while integrated* into the human community.

(*integrated-ish; see Assumption 6)

2. There are too many coincidences for Bella to have encountered the Cullens by sheer chance, only to be the ONE person that Edward can’t live without (due largely to the novelty factor of not being able to read her ding-dang thoughts.)

3. Diagetically, the Volturi don’t even know Bella’s psyonic gifts until New Moon, but we also know that the Volturi scour the globe for recruits to enlist into the protection of their governing body.

4. Nobody wants to be a voiceless cog in a bureaucracy.

5. Nobody, and especially nobody in high school, wants to be a high school student forever.

6. Vampires in twilight are, as a group, cartoonishly terrible at disguising their true nature.

7. Forks is a backwater town approximately 3.5 hours away from the biotech hub of Seattle.

7. George W. Bush and Dick Cheney can eat my farts and they deserve to be preserved in this snapshot of an innocent author’s mind slowly unraveling.

Proposed timeline:

In 1993, there is a key system meltdown at a improvised biohacking startup in Seattle, rendering all innovative genetic modification experiments into a puddle of brown sludge that nobody can figure out how to dispose of per Federal regs, since they don’t even know what it is.

The broke founder of the startup, who for the purposes of this timeline I will call Jeff Bezos because that’s who it was, eventually grows tired of all the discussion about what to do, and just pops it in a barrel, drives a few hours out of town, and dumps it in a pond.

Bella Swan, a small child, is hanging out at a park with her family friend Jacob Black (and a ton of his friends) when they all decide to wade in a slightly murky pond. Thereafter, they are transformed.

Bella grows up as a normal, highly powerful mutant with a +20 to deception checks and wisdom saves. She lives in Arizona, but up until 2002, summers in Forks. While in Forks, she picks up on the local lore about a family of vampires who don’t eat people.

Because Forks (population: 17 + Charlie’s mustache) is boring, Bella bones up on the only interesting thing about it, i.e. Vampire Hometown baybeeeee.

In 2000, George W. Bush gets elected president, and his evangelical politics and general bumbling ineptitude informs Bella’s opinions on authoritative governmental entities.

In 2001, the Cullens make their intention to move back to Forks known, but they take a while because they need to pack all their stupid graduation hats and volvos, etc.

Later in 2001, a psychic Volturi scout rolls through Forks to ensure that nobody within living memory recalls the Cullens, and notices an anomaly in the psychic field.

The scout goes to confront Bella about joining the Volturi, and Bella immediately clocks him as a vampire, because vampires in the Twilight Universe fucking suck at looking/acting human. This leaves the scout in a bind: she’s too valuable to kill, but she’s a pre-teen, and therefore too young to be transformed per Volturi authority.

The scout warns her he’ll have to kill her if she discusses the existence of vampires with any human. He then tells her he’ll be back in five years, and begins to sweet talk her on how good life will be when she’s a vampire, beautiful, immortal, powerful, etc. Bella asks if she has to kill, and dude says “nah, actually there’s a bunch of vegetarian vampires who are moving back here soon. Fucking nerds, but otherwise they’re doing well.” Bella is all about becoming a vampire, because Bella is a rational actor.

Bella moves to Arizona, and as the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq are unjustifiedly initiated, she recognizes that while she DOES want to be a vampire, she does NOT want to be a foot soldier in any war that she can’t support. She needs a plan.

In 2004, Bella is watching her step-dad’s minor league baseball game when it occurs to her. On her own, she’s a target for the Volturi, but if she had some people to watch her back, she might be okay. Of course, nobody fucks with the Volturi on behalf of some rando human. She’ll need to con her way into a coven who’ll have her back and also give her that +10 to constitution via vampiric transformation, which she desperately wants because she’s a rational actor. And where are the non-volturi vampires that might have her back? Fucking Forks.

Bella moves to Forks in 2004, and upon seeing the Cullens, she immediately clocks them as vampires even though they left their “we’re all vampires” booty shorts at home, because, as previously discussed, vampires in the Twilight Universe fucking suck at looking/acting human.

Bella notes that all the vampires but one are paired off in heterosexual bliss, and takes note of the straggler as a potential vehicle to vampyrdom.

Bella figures out that Eddie can read everyone’s mind but hers, because Edward Cullen fucking sucks at looking/acting like a human who can’t read minds. Bella further observes that Eddie has a huge undead boner for her.

She’s found her mark. Now she just needs to convince him that she’s better off as part of the coven than on her own. Problem: Eddie’s a self-pitying insufferably guilt-striken perpetual adolescent who keeps himself busy by feeling sorry for himself because he’s a vampire, angst angst angst etc etc. Also, I think he’s Catholic, so add some more guilt in. She’ll have to win him over by convincing him that they’re destined to be soulmates.

What does a vampire used to having complete insight into everyone’s mind but his crush’s want? A method to know what she really thinks of him. Bella begins writing a “diary” knowing that there’s no way in hell Eddie won’t sneak in and read it. So she Gone Girls it, and begins to lay a trap to lure him in. That first diary? Twilight.

This was just in the movie but a stoner chases her around with a worm on a stick. Nothing to do with this theory, I just like that part of the movie. Where’s my spinoff about that guy?

Eddie won’t give Bella what she wants (eternal life) by the end of book 1, even though she asks him to EXTREMELY POLITELY. Time to hit the diary with some more promises of undying love.

Bella reconnects with her old friend Jacob and the rest of the Mutated By Jeff Bezos Boys. Alas, they cannot turn her into a physically powerful sexy immortal with a bite, so she’s still stuck with plan A) win over a whole family of vampires with big Mormon energy. It’s the long con.

Edward’s angst abruptly takes a swing towards terminal. He’s absolutely your classic sadboy, perhaps because Bella now has one (1) friend that he knows about.

When Eddie begins to drift away on account of Angst, Bella conjurs up a secondary love interest who, coincidentally, is ALSO a sexy supernatural entity, and is much less coincidentally just Jacob.

We should establish here that Edward is like a 107 year old white dude and so even though Diary!Bella pretends not to see it, Metatextual Frame Story!Bella knows that dude is super racist.

Jacob Black is three things: 1. Like Bella, a mutant (although one with shapeshifting abilities), 2.one of Bella’s oldest and most trusted confidants, and 3. down to clown on an elderly teenage vampire who keeps stereotyping him. Sure, says Jacob, I’ll take the form of a werewolf. He seriously thinks we’re all just beastmen, huh? Hey look at me now, I’m Regis Philbin because this is 2005 and Who Wants to be a Millionaire is still sort of relevant. Sick.

Edward does not like that Bella has one (1) other friend. Bella and Jacob plot to use this to their advantage and lure Edward back on the wings of jealousy.

Eddie gets himself into trouble on account of Angst and poor communication, so Bella has to go rescue him from himself/the Volturi.

Aro finally meets her and gets to test her powers, which impress him. Now she’s back on the fucking radar.

I forget everything that happens in Eclipse, so i have chosen to omit that part.

Eventually she extracts a quid pro quo from Eddie; i’ll marry you if you turn me into a dracula.

We don’t really call ourselves that, Wet Blanket Cullen replies, entirely earnestly.

Bella gets married at 18 in 2006, and Eddie starts to backtrack his promise about changing her. This won’t stand.

Well, look, he’s an elderly guilty catholic/mormon teen who probably still uses super racist terms, but she’s stuck on honeymoon island, he has certain angles that work for him, and seriously what are they gonna do but fuck? Bella’s alternative is listening to her “husband” drone on about his interests, which are almost certainly Car, How Do I Post a Minion Picture on Facebook, and Licorice Used To Be a Lot Cheaper in the Good Old Days.

Whoops a fetus.

Bella recognizes that she’s GOT to have this baby: time’s running out, and Bella knows that at least two of the Vamps in her coven will cut ties if she terminates or otherwise fails to carry this baby to term because of the conservative religious subtext. She’s going to have to stick it out for 9 months, even though it’s a risky call.

Bella gets what she wants after giving birth. “My time as a human is over, but I've never felt more alive. I was born to be a vampire.” That’s a direct quote. Except now she’s got a (pretty cute and easy) baby that she desperately wants to protect from Turning Into A Vaguely Religious Cullen Dressed Head To Toe In Cream Colored Wool.

Bella decides to fake her own death and escape with the kid and Jake so they can form i guess a detective agency. Bella will get “killed” by the Volturi, move to Sydney, and open up shop, and Jake will take the kid after her a few months later.

They’re gonna need a reason why Jake gets the kid though, and there’s only one reason to do anything amongst the Cullens: a heterosexual love interest with a super problematic age gap.

Jesus, Jake sighs, is Eddie really going to believe I’m in romantic love with your actual infant? Does he really think that little of me?

Yup.

Bella tries to draw the Volturi’s attention.

Works too well.

The Cullens call up all their vague acquaintances, who are at least kind of fun. Particularly that one dude who keeps getting angry about British conduct during the American Revolution.

Well, fuck, now the Volturi are bringing an army to fight their ragtag army of Vampires Who Are Cool And Interesting Enough That We Can Safely Presume They Are All Definitely Gay. Bella can’t let those guys die, they’re the first actually compelling vampires she’s ever talked to.

Bella saves the day because she’s OP.

All the Cool Vamps start packing up to leave and Bellz almost goes with them, but the Cullens would just keep sending missionaries after her if they knew.

Bella finishes her fourth journal with the vague warning that the Volturi are still out there somewhere and they miiiight just try and get her.

Two days later, she stages a scuffle and gets the fork out of Fucks. Her journals are the only clue.

Sirius Black and baby nessie follow once edward has stopped sobbing into his cream colored sweater and moved on to Extended Power Pouting.

Bella recruits her own army of fledglings.

Bella stages a coup against the Volturi and succeeds.

Bella sits on the iron throne with a hot lady vampire on each knee and they all kiss and stuff.

Nessie I guess forms a post punk band?

Edward dies from aspiration of a brussel sprout that he ate because he just wanted to feel something.

Charlie and Billy get married.

Charlie’s mustache develops a cult instagram following, providing them with a modest retirement income.

Jacob shapeshifts into Bill Murray and is always crashing weddings.

Bella’s stepdad is off in the B plot this whole time winning the world series with the help of a kooky angel.

There. Fixed. My soul is at rest.

[soldrawss]

Sol i need headcanons for the brothers, please im begging you

BRUH I GOT YOU

I’m currently working on some little fics for them BUT I CAN GIVE YOU SOME DETAILS BECAUSE I’M DYING TO SHARE

(Warning, gets a little dark towards the middle, but overall fine. Sorry for the long read. I went for a DEEP dive on the Age Gap Au)

Ace was put into foster care 4 hours after his birth. His father died before he was born and his mother died during childbirth. Ace had nothing to his name but physical traits of the dead (Like his father's sharp eyes and his mother’s freckles) He grew up with a need to prove himself and to gain something that truly belonged to him all on his own.

Sabo was placed in foster care when he was 5 because of an altercation with his abusive and possesive parents, involving him having broken ribs and running away.

Ace and Sabo met in a halfway home for troubled youths when they were 6. (They both had issues with authority and past placements in foster homes, so they quickly bonded over that, and decided to stick together ever since)

Their bond was so strong that ‘honorary’ brothers didn’t really fit them. They were brothers. And they stuck together and stood up for one another like it was them against the world (which sometimes it was)

They would often run away from the halfway home they were at, trying to earn a living on their own on the streets, and often commit petty thefts in order to survive. 

These little runaway trips wouldn’t last long though, because they were always caught by Officer Garp, a police officer that happened to have a knack for catching little runaways.

However tough Garp acted though, he had an incredibly big soft spot for these two little brats that were only trying to make their lives better. These two kids, barely 8 years old, who had so much hatred for the world because of adults in their lives that failed them. Adults that hurt them, giving them scars and bruises on their hearts just as easily as the scars and bruises on the little frames. 

After a particular runaway incident, Ace breaks down and confesses about all the horrible placements he and Sabo had been in before. How social services always judge Ace’s sharp eyes and label in a problem child, how Sabo’s quick wit always get him in trouble with the adults, how they both have scars and bruises from past foster homes they were placed in, and that's why Ace and Sabo runaway. They’re tired of getting placed in bad homes. They’re tired of having adults try to separate them. Ace is all Sabo has and vice versa because that's the only person in the whole world who they trust to not hurt them. And Garp thinks that’s the last fucking straw.

Garp, much to Ace and Sabo’s but nobody else’s surprise, adopts both the boys, and takes them into his own home. Because dammit, if they’re just gonna runaway, they might as well stay with someone who will at least love them enough to always look for them and bring them back to a good home when they do.

And it’s weird at first, because Garp is the rough and loud and nosey officer that used to grab them by the scruffs of their shirts and drag them back to that awful halfway home kicking and screaming. But then it gets better. Because he still yells at them, but it’s with a tempered and fiercely protective love it when he does. He still grabs them, but it’s just to pull them into a rough bear hug that they fervently pretend they don’t like. And every dinner is spent with tears of laughter in their eyes and cheeks warm with delight at the stories he tells them. (They call him old man with affection and he’s their father figure even though they treat him like their grandpa.)

Sabo joins his school’s baseball team! Which is so freaking cool! He’s a really strong batter, can weild a bat like it’s an extension of his own arm, and Ace and Garp are always the loudest cheers on the bleachers every home run hit Sabo makes.

Garp makes Ace take up boxing, because the kid’s got a lot of pent-up rage and aggression, and he figures it’s a good constructive sort of therapy for the rowdy brat.

The two still get up to mischief every now and again, though. Nothing illegal, but Garp is still having to wrangle up his two little idiots before they do something stupid. (They get into a lot of fights with local gangs because they have smart mouths and are still a little reckless)

Garp has a biological son that Ace and Sabo never met due to Garp’s and Dragon’s strained relationship. Garp had always bad-mouthed him whenever his son was brought up, but it was always with words that had no heat behind them, and Sabo and Ace could tell there was a sadness behind his eyes whenever he looked at the picture of his son in his wallet.

The boys were 10 when they got the news of Dragon’s death a week after it happened. Garp had gotten the phone call when he and the boys were watching some late-night trash tv on the weekend, and he had all but strangled the phone in a grip that turned his knuckles white. He didn’t say what had killed his son, (he never did), but he had told the boys he needed to take care of something, told them to pack up some of their things, dropped them off at his friend Newgate’s house, and got the quickest flight out that night.

He came back 3 days later, and when he did, he had a tiny little baby with him.

Ace and Sabo were no strangers to babies. There was always some snot-nosed kid that would get dropped off at the halfway home (and then adopted that week, because everybody loved babies), and they were pretty sure this baby wasn’t gonna be any different. Because babies were loud and gross and never stopped crying, and Ace and Sabo were prepared for the absolute worse.

But then they stood over the baby’s crib to get a good look at him, and the baby looked back.

And smiled the biggest and happiest smile Ace and Sabo had ever seen.

And Garp had said “His name is Luffy,” and Ace and Sabo had been hooked around his little finger ever since. 

Luffy was barely 6 months old, and was a bundle of chubby cheeks and contagious giggles. With big brown chocolate colored eyes that melted all the sharp corners and edges of Ace’s and Sabo’s hearts.

Because Sabo and Ace were the same age, and neither one of them felt like the older or younger brother. They were equals in every way. But it was different with Luffy. Because Luffy was tiny, and soft and could barely wrap all 5 of his little fingers around one of theirs, and it hit Sabo and Ace like a bullet train because oh.

 Oh this is what it was like to be an older brother. This was what it was like to have a little brother. And Sabo and Ace have always looked out for each other, of course. But Luffy was something they had to protect fully and with their entire being. His smile, his laughter, his heart. All of it. Sabo and Ace knew all the horrible things in the world, knew all the hatred and fear and heartbreak the world could throw at you and it was like a silent promise to each other they never verbalized, that Luffy should and would never have to go through the things they went through. He would never feel unloved. He would never feel unwanted. He would never feel like he had to prove his worth or reason for existing. (He was worth more than any price anyone could give anyway)

Sabo and Ace stopped getting into trouble. They got good grades, excelled in their respective clubs, and didn’t give Garp any reason to chase them down in his old cop car and bring them home. (They were always at home anyway, giving Luffy piggyback rides and teaching him how to ride a bike and do one-handed handstands and cartwheels, and basking in the warmth that was Luffy’s endless love) And they lived in peace like that for 5 years.

Then the fire happened.

Garp was a good police officer and an even better Deputy Chief, and for almost 40 years, he served on the Foosha County Police Department. He had put away a lot of bad guys and saved a lot of people in the process and was an honored and highly respected man. However, this also made him a big target and earned him quite a few enemies. He was 3 weeks away from retirement and spending most of those weeks staying at home, playing with Luffy, and ingnoring the last of his paperwork left on his office desk.

When the fire broke out, Ace and Sabo had just turned the corner from the bus stop on their way home from school. They had seen the smoke, but didn’t know where it was coming from till they saw the towering blaze of fire that used to be their 2 story home and the group of neighbors surrounding the outside. 

They managed to push their way to the front, hands shaking and eyes wide and absolutely breathless, because that was their house! That was their house that was one fire and where was gramps?! Where was Luffy?!

The only thing Ace heard Sabo whisper among the roar of the fire and the loud murmur of people around them was “Do you hear that? That... crying?” Before Sabo surged forward.

Ace didn’t have time to reach out and stop him, and by the time he could, Sabo had already disappeared into the open front door, which was covered in flames. He had screamed out, tried to race in and follow his brother into the flames, but the neighbors around him were quicker than he was and pulled him back. 

Edward Newgate, one of their neighbors and close personal friend of Garp’s was in the crowd, and he was holding Ace to his chest with an arm like an iron bar, as he was on the phone with the local fire department. (Newgate was also the Foosha County fire chief, and was shouting at his lieutenants to “get your asses out here now!’) But Ace didn’t hear a word he was saying. All he could do was struggle to get out of the older man’s grip, reach out for his brother and best friend, and scream his lungs out.

What felt like hours went by, and Ace felt like his heart was shattering into a million piece, the glass shards falling around him, as he sobbed into Newgate's chest, thinking he had lost everything. His home. His family. His only purpose and reason for living.

And then some of the neighbors were shouting again, only this time in surprised alarm and Ace looked up with hazy eyes blurred by tears, to see something was coming out of the front door.

And it could only be Sabo. Ace knew it was him before he could even register it, and bolted out of Newgate's grips that had slacked at the surprise and towards his brother.

Ace met Sabo only a few feet from the door, Sabo collapsing into his arms, and Ace had to pull him the extra few feet away because the flames were still too much to bear even at that distance.

And Sabo’s skin was hot and red and covered in smoke and ash alike. There was a giant welting red burn against the side of Sabo’s face that looked like it would leave a scar forever, but Ace was having a hard time focusing on it because he was too bust focusing on the bundle of blankets that Sabo was desperately trying to push into Ace’s arms.

And Ace was already crying before, but he began crying even harder when he removed the fold of blankets to reveal a muffled Luffy, covered in ash but unharmed, crying his eyes out. 

Sabo had a coughing fit that rocked his whole body, and burns that looked like they'd hurt forever, but he was smiling when Ace broke into a sob, clutching both Sabo and Luffy into his chest.

The firefighters and paramedics came a few minutes later, and they had to physically pull Sabo and Luffy from Ace’s arms to check and treat them. Luffy only ended up with a few mild burns and cuts on his arms and legs and some burning of his throat from inhaling so much smoke, but Sabo had to be taken to the hospital immediately for his burns, especially for the one on his face. Ace pleaded to let them all ride in the same ambulence on the way to the hosipital, and held on to Sabo’s shirt sleeve with a grip that would take the end of the world and then some for him to let go.

Sabo had to get some surgery and treatment to save his left eye, but he was all in all ok, and Ace and Luffy were allowed to visit his hospital room for as long as they needed.

When Ace finally confronted Sabo on why he had ran into the house in the first place, it was on the first night of their hospital stay. Sabo had a giant white gauze wrapping half of his head, and he looked at Ace with tired blue eyes that looked a little fuzy, still a little drugged from all the medication he was on to ease the pain. 

And Ace felt bad about it, he really did, because Sabo didn’t derserve to be grilled on the matter. Not after he had sacrificed himself and saved Luffy. Their little brother. Their little brother who they wouldn’t even have anymore if it weren’t for Sabo. 

But Ace had to know. He was so mad and heartbroken and scared out of his mind when Sabo had rushed in without word or warning. Because they had lost Garp. They had almost lost Luffy. And Ace could have almost lost Sabo too.

But Luffy was tucked underneath Sabo’s arm on the hospital bed, and Sabo just smiled at Ace with a patience that only Ace and Luffy could pull out of him, and patted the other side for Ace to join them. Ace climbed onto the bed beside him, and even with the two 15-year-olds and one little 5 year old, the bed didn’t feel too small at all.

Sabo explained that he could hear crying from the door and he just moved. Knowing it was Luffy before his mind could really think about the implications behind that. He confessed how the flames hurt at first. Hurt so bad, and it was so hot, and everything, from the floor to the ceiling, was on fire and he could barely see anything through the smoke. But he could hear Luffy’s little rough and horse scream, coming from one of the back rooms that used to be Garp's office, and suddenly all Sabo could afford to think about was Luffy’s crying.

Sabo would tell a watered-down version of this story to the cops in the morning, because they were Garp's friend and companions, and they only really needed the broad details for their report anyway. 

He’ll tell a heroic version of this story, lacking any horrific graphics, to an older Luffy whenever the eternally curious kid wonders and asks about it.

But he only ever told the whole story right then on that night, one arm tight around his baby brother in a toothed and protective love, while the other one gripped his best friend's hands with shaking and bandaged fingers hard enough to leave bruising.

Garp was long dead when Sabo found him. The smell of his skin burning off is something that will haunt Sabo for the rest of his life. (Sometimes certain smells will set him off. Uncooked bacon is not allowed in the house anymore after one traumatic morning when Luffy is six. Campfires are viewed and enjoyed from a distance.)

He was lying on his stomach, clutching something to his chest. Sabo knew it was Luffy by the cries, bundled up in a few quilts and one of this office rugs, and Sabo knew he had to get them out of there before the smoke killed them off like it had a personal agenda against them.

The heat was unbearable, Sabo had confessed, but it was nothing compared to having to drag Luffy from underneath Garp’s grip. The old man was built like a brick house, sure, but even in death, his grip on Luffy, protecting Luffy, like he was daring the world to take anything away from him, was steadfast and almost unbbreakable. 

It was the hardest thing Sabo had ever had to make himself do.

He didn’t look at Garp’s face. His body was burned black and bloody and raw, and Sabo couldn’t live with himself if his memory of Garp’s face was replaced by anything other than with the one of his scruffy beard and the shit-eating grin that he always wore.

When he pulled Luffy out, he didn’t look back, and raced out of the house as fast as he could. Something along the way fell and smacked him in the face, knocking him down at one point, but Sabo couldn’t pay it much mind. He got back up, and continued towards the door. He could barely see, barely breathe, with all the smoke and the ash, and the pain from the fire was almost numbing against his skin, but he didn’t stop.

All he could think about was Luffy, still struggling and crying against the blankets wrapped tightly around him. Next thing he knew, he was outside, and looking up at Ace’s snot-covered face.

Ace had never seen Sabo cry for the almost 10 years he knew him. He didn’t cry when he was 7, and the Anderson family had called him a freak and had sent him back after a failed foster home placement. He didn’t cry when he was 9, and broke his arm falling out of the tree in their backyard that Garp had told him not to climb, so of course he had to climb it. And he didn’t even cry earlier that day, at 15, when he was off medication and feeling the full extent of his painful burns.

So when tears started pooling out of Sabo’s pale blue eyes, falling down his cheeks and staining the cotton white blanket he was under as he told his story, Ace pretended not to notice, wrapped an arm around Sabo’s shoulders, and held him like it was the only lifeline in the world. 

Garp’s funeral was held the following week. Closed casket. All the police departments in the county, and even some outside of it, showed up to give him a full send-off. Ace cried for both Sabo and himself. Sabo spoke a few words for the both of them. And Luffy stood between them, holding both their hands. They explained the night before that gramps was gone, but they don’t think the notion of death really got through to Luffy. He was crying, but only because Ace was crying, and when he asked ‘can gramps come out of the box to give me a hug before he goes away?’ everyone has to clench their teeth and hold their breaths to stop their hearts from breaking. Sabo kneeled down to wrap Luffy in a tight hug. Ace covered his face with his arm and cried harder

(They never bother asking Luffy about how the fire started, or what happened that day. Luffy doesn’t remember, and they don’t push it further. The truth isn’t as important as Luffy’s mentality is, but Garp’s old squad promises that they won’t rest until they get to the bottom of it. And as much as Ace and Sabo want justice and revenge, they have Luffy to think about, so they leave it up to the police)

Sabo and Ace are almost 16, and they suddenly have no parental figure, no home, no anything, and suddenly they’re faced with the horrible notion that even more can be taken from them when a blast from their past threatens to take Luffy away from them too.

They’re no stranger to the foster care system, so when social services show up at the motel they were renting with Garp’s savings, they feel their hearts drop to their stomach for fear of the very real possibility that Luffy will be placed in immediate foster care, and possibly, so would they. 

Ace and Sabo jump into action then, because no way, no fucking way, were they gonna lose Luffy. They had lost everything else. They almost did lose Luffy. They weren’t gonna risk that chance again.

Ace was only a few weeks older than Sabo. Sabo hadn’t paused a second to jump into the fire, risking life and limb, to protect what little they had. It was Ace’s turn to be the heroic older brother. And on the day he turned 16, Ace petitioned legal guardianship and parental rights for Sabo and Luffy.

And it was hard, because of course the courts felt sorry for him, the grandson of one of the best police chiefs in the county’s history, begging the courts to let him keep what little family he had left together. The courts wanted to give it to him, wanted to help him. But Luffy was a child. And Ace and Sabo were practically still kids themselves. Asking kids to raise themselves was something no one should ask them to do. 

But Ace and Sabo fought for it. Ace was 16, and Sabo would be 16 soon enough. They could get GED’s, no problem. They’d get jobs, get a little apartment near Luffy’s school, attend any parenting and child service meeting required of them. They’d buy all the necessities over again and they’d love Luffy where no other foster family could even compare. They’d do everything, everything and anything, to keep Luffy. To let them stay together.

With a couple of vouchers from Garp’s old police squad, including one from an overly enthusiastic Edward Newgate and one from the boy’s homeroom teacher, Makino, the courts ruled in Ace’s and Sabo’s favor, and Luffy was officially theirs until they proved that Luffy was better off somewhere else.

Ace and Sabo were never gonna let that happen.

They got a little 2 bedroom apartment a couple blocks from Luffy’s elementary. They quit school, and worked extra hard to earn their GED’s within the following months. (With the help of their old teachers and a few of their overly enthusiastic neighbors)

Ace got a job at the local fire department, as a rookie in training under Newgate.

Sabo got a job at the local news station, writing reports on top of his interning duties. 

Ace eventually got a motorcycle that same year, which scared Sabo half to death and delighted Luffy to no end. It was cheaper than a car, and easier to travel to and from work on, and no matter how hard Sabo tried, he couldn’t come up with a valid reason why Ace shouldn’t use it to their advantage. So Sabo made Ace promise to always wear a helmet when riding it, and that Luffy wasn’t allowed to ride it until he was much older. (Which Luffy pouted about to no end)

And it’s hard at times, both of them working overtime just to make enough to support themselves and keep them afloat, but it’s good, and it’s theirs.

Luffy makes a friend on his first day of first grade named Zoro Roronoa, another kid that lives just across the street from them, and when Ace and Sabo know they’re gonna be late in getting home, Luffy goes over there and hangs out until they can pick him up (Which is totally fine with Zoro’s father Koushirou, a kendo teacher and single father of 6-year-old Zoro and 9-year-old Kuina. Zoro has a bit of a personality problem and often has trouble making friends (because the child doesn’t see a need to) so when little bright-eyed and endlessly joyful Luffy pops into their life, Kushirou jumps at the chance to have him over as much as possible, because the two small children seem to bring out the best in each other, and are best friends attached at the hip) Sabo and Ace are eternally grateful to the kind man)

A few years go by, and Luffy is 8. Ace is still working at the fire station and is now legally allowed to join them on calls and emergencies. (Fire used to make Ace nervous, because he almost lost everything to it. Now he has a personal agenda with it, to make sure it doesn’t take anything from anyone else)

Sabo has moved up the ranks now, and when he turns 18, confronts Ace with a rare job opportunity he was offered.

“It’s a year-long internship for this really cool company that reports and delivers high-class diplomatic information around,” Sabo starts, rubbing the back of his head like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “I’d be working as like, a cool undercover spy with diplomatic immunity and a messenger bag. It’s not dangerous at all, and pays almost triple my paycheck now, which would really help us out. But it’s overseas, and I’d be gone for a whole year. You’d be raising Luffy all by yourself, birthdays and holidays and skinned knees, with just the two of you, so say the word, and I’ll totally turn this job down on the spot.”

And it’s scary to Ace. Because he hasn’t been alone since he was 6 years old, and he can’t possibly remember a time when Sabo hadn’t been by his side. His best friend and brother. It was always the two of them. Two little runaways that found a home, lost that home, and then built a new home all on their own despite it all. And neither of them had ever been away from Luffy for longer than a weekend, so Ace was sure it would kill Sabo to be away from them for so long.

But he also knew that Sabo was only playing this off like it wasn’t a big deal, when in fact it was the job opportunity of a lifetime for someone like Sabo, a kid who breathed adventure and freedom with every breath. And that when he talked about it, his eyes sparkled with a joy that Ace would hate himself forever for taking it away. 

Sabo was giving Ace the choice, and Ace knew that Sabo would go along with whatever Ace decided without a second thought or complaint. But Ace knew that Sabo would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't go, so he slugged Sabo in the arm, gave him his best shit-eating, confident grin, (the kind he used to give him right before they were about to steal some food as kids, or about to get into a fight when they were teens) and said, “You let me have a motorcycle. The least I can do is let you go road tripping abroad.”

Because Ace and Luffy would be fine. They’d miss Sabo like crazy, and Ace was pretty sure Sabo was like, 90% of his impulse control, but they’d survive. Sabo had the burn marks to prove how far he was willing to go for their family, and Ace had never thanked him for that. Ace was never gonna live that down, and was going to spend the rest of his life making it up to both Sabo AND Luffy, and prove just how good of an older brother he could be. This was the least he could do for them.