#probably not talking about scuttle

[elias-the-scribe]

Earthbound Stars part 2

I know it's been a while, sorry about that, but have a new bit! Did I look at the Wikipedia page for eggplants to figure out how people would refer to them in Greece for a single line? Yes I did! Anyway, behold, a very long boy. Lengthy even, dare I say... tol. Story starts under the keep reading thingy

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The worryingly dark clouds hadn’t started to storm when Arum arrived at his aunt’s building. The air smelled like rain and lightning, but he couldn’t say that he minded. He’d spent so many long nights just listening to the rain on his window. It was the one thing that could get him to sleep when all else failed.

A crack of thunder made him frantically scuttle under the awning of a nearby shop. Dammit, is it going to start pouring? He thought miserably. Just my luck.

“Arum! Stop moping under there and come inside.” Lena leaned on the door frame of the front door with a teasing smile.

“I’m not moping! I’m- uh- brooding. That’s what I’m doing, and all the cool people do it too.” He felt himself smile, his aunt always knew how to make him smile.

“I suppose you’re the exception to that?” Arum gasped in mock offense, while Selena continued, “Now, come inside before you get soaked.” He did, barely making it through the doorway before the sky opened up and dumped an ocean’s worth of water down.

“Guess Zeus was waiting for me to get inside.” He laughed a little, when Lena just rolled her eyes.

“I bet you’re his favorite too.” She remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re so mean to me.”

“If I was mean, I wouldn’t have made moussaka, with only potatoes, for dinner.”

“You remembered!” He gasped, just happy she had remembered his absolute hatred for aubergines.

“Of course I did. You’re my favorite nephew.”

“Aww… wait a second.” He narrowed his eyes, “I’m your only nephew.”

“Exactly, that’s why you’re my favorite.” Lena said with a sly grin, which turned to laughter at Arum’s lamenting.

“Now,” she said, once Arum was finished despairing about his life, “stairs or elevator?”

“Hmm, a deathtrap or fire hazard, what amazing choices.” His leg gave a throb of pain, making the decision easy. He walked towards the elevator, “plummeting to my death sounds festive.”

“You’ll be fine, you drama king.”

“You are so mean to me!!”

“You’ll live.”

“Unless the elevator thinks differently.”

The dull light flickered when they went into it, casting everything in a sickly yellow, and the button for the floor didn’t work the first few tries. Selena punched it and the elevator finally lurched to life.

“So,” Selena started once the elevator doors had closed with a worrying screech, “I never got to meet that girlfriend of yours.”

“He dumped me.” He watched as her face go through just about every emotion in the span of three seconds.

“Oh, oh… oh” The rest of the agonizingly slow ride was awkwardly silent.

After Lena had stopped them from getting soaked in the storm, Ori and Vera played cards on the floor in the middle of the apartment. It was a cozy place, if a little small. There were lots of blankets and pillows for blanket forts and sleepovers. The walls were covered in art work made by Lena's friends and pictures of Ori growing up alongside Vera and Arum.

The air always held the scents of what was cooking (currently: moussaka) and the sounds of the neighbors drifted through the thin walls. Luckily, their next door neighbors were quiet most of the time, and one was a musician. He didn’t take requests, much to everyone’s (mostly Ori’s) disappointment. He could, however, be bribed with cookies to play a song or two.

While Lena was getting Arum, the two kids had devolved into arguing over the card game they made up for a school assignment. Was it technically supposed to be on one of the historical figures they had been learning about? Yes, but the two managed to argue that technically the assignment did not say when the figures had to be from… or if they existed.

So, they got to do their project on the myths Selena and Iris, Vera’s mother, would tell them. Arum calls it, “would you two shut up already. It’s a game you both made up.” or “would you stop playing your argument game?” Both of those are too long of a name, but neither of them can come up with a different one, so Arguments: The Game was born.

The door opened to grace the pair of adults to the children’s bickering as always.

“Heracles could probably beat Polyphemus! He got the underworld doggie out of the underworld!” Vera declared, placing down the hand drawn card.

“Polyphemus is smart, and I don’t think the dog is all that smart.” Ori countered, already getting out their book on myths.

“UM. EXCUSE YOU?! Dogs are so smart! The two dogs I dog sit are so nice and polite and well-trained. Heracles could easily win.” Ori scoffed at that.

“We never saw him fight a humanoid monster! And Polyphemus is the son of Poseidon!”

“Well, Heracles is the son of Zeus!”

“Well-” Arum cut off Ori’s retort with one of his own.

“Vey, Riri, how about we stop yelling at each other and have dinner? Plus, I brought more stickers for you to add to my crutch.” The kids abandoned their game immediately in favor of setting the table. 

Arum sat by the small shrine with a wince as his knee shrieked in pain, barely lessened by his tail working with his more functional leg to lower him to the ground. As usual, there was a bubble of warmth that eased the pain as Arum whispered his prayers. Conversation drifted past as he got lost in the quiet words he uttered. He didn’t know what they meant, but they fit nicely in his mouth. 

Ori watched him quietly for a while before hesitantly standing and kneeling beside him. They lightly leaned on Arum’s shoulder. Arum wrapped his arm around the younger kid as they sat in a comfortable silence, only broken by Arum’s murmurs and Ori humming along to the rhythm. 

Selena watched the two of them until Vey's head popped out from behind her chair. "Mama and Papa are making loukoumades for the festival thingy tomorrow! Want me to bring you some?"

"Ooo yes please, your parents make the best in the city!"

"I'll tell them you said that!"

"Ew no, don't let Iris know I like something she makes. Can't let her know I like something she makes."

"Just Papa then?" Selena pondered that before nodding with a smile.

"Acceptable, want to help me finish up dinner?" Vera, instead of responding, just ran over immediately.

"No." She finally replied while already getting out the ingredients for a fairly simple salad.

"How could you?" Lena gasped, mock offended. "I trusted you!" The kid just giggled.

[em-b-sides]

I think about that tiktok trend where you like paint your partners eye color on your nails or make a bracelet or something with the color a lot actually

[byanyan]

“Swords are objectively the coolest weapons.”

ㅤㅤ" right?! nothin' else compares to a huge, razor sharp blade in your hand that y'just shwaaaaa— "ㅤmiming the swing of a sword in time with their enthusiastic sound effect, byan can't do a thing to stifle the grin spreading wide across their face.ㅤ" —an' it just goes clean through someone. or like, at least down t' the bone. nothin' else is as aesthetically pleasin' and as satisfyin' to use as a sword. like, i love a good knife, don't get me wrong, but let's be real — i only ever used those 'cause they were the closest thing to a sword that i could get my hands on before. and 'cause they're convenient. ...and y'can get 'em in a lotta cute-ass colours 'n designs. —where was i goin' with this? "

ㅤa pause, as they seem to try to regain their lost train of thought. then, just as quickly—ㅤ" oh, right!! the point is that fuck yeah, swords are cooler'n anythin' else an' always will be! "

[simonbrain]

getting the biggest, scariest bastard at the pub in your bed must have been one of your greatest achievements, especially after watching the way he turned down a few girls prior to you.

he glanced at you each time, disregarding the way the poor things scuttled off in embarrassment; their confidence dampened. it's like he was preening under your attention, and even underneath that silly balaclava of his, you picked up on the way he seemed to flush. his shoulders became more square, and his chest seemed to puff out more. the air around him became more charged with his cockiness rather than the pointless attempts at hiding himself from the other patrons. surely he's aware that he's the centre of the room, no matter which one.

he only grew more bold until he was right at your side, and you held his gaze the entire time.

now, he rewards you with the greatest dicking-down of your life, his fat cock stretching you impossibly thin, the thick girth bullying its way into you over and over again. he fucks you like a man starved, touches you as if he's trying to sink his hands beneath your soft skin and stroke your bones.

although nothing could have prepared you for how fucking filthy his mouth is. his voice holds the right amount of grittiness, the kind that makes your eyes roll back as he whispers the nastiest things in your ear, his accent adding to the thrill his words send down your spine. each moan that fell from his mouth, each promise of ruining you for anyone else after him, each pet name he called you had you going brainless on his cock, your sensitive bundle of nerves twitching under the pads of his fingers as he follows through with his promise. maybe if you were any more lucid, you might have realised it sounded more like a threat rather than just plain dirty talk.

the next morning, you woke up to an aching body, a bottle of water and a box of tylenol on your bedside table, and no stranger in your bed. this may be the greatest one-night stand you've ever had.

well, it was until you realised a couple of weeks later that you're still getting off to the image of him blanketing you and that damn voice of his purring low in your ear. your fingers circle your clit, your eyes unfocused as you imagine him on top of you, taking you deep right where he belongs, and when you think about how he growled at you to soak his cock like a good girl, you come all over your fingers with a humiliatingly loud whine.

it only gets worse from there. you can no longer come to porn unless the person in the video resembles the big boy who rearranged your guts, and even that is a feat of its own. you can't find anyone who has similar tattoos, similar scars, or even a similar voice. reading smut can only get you so far, and some nights, you go to bed feeling defeated because you just couldn't orgasm.

you get so desperate you start searching for those dirty little audios people post online, and for a while, you manage to make yourself come (maybe not as hard, but at this point, you'll take anything). the voices that rumble through your headphones aren't as husky as your mystery man, and their accents aren't exactly close to his, but it holds you off... until it doesn't. and now you're desperate to find him again, but he's probably long gone now.

you can't believe it; the fucker really did ruin you.

it's not until a few months later that you hear that familiar voice again, and your knees almost give out in the middle of the damn store.

(they actually do when simon, he tells you through hungry kisses, bends you in half in the dreadful alleyway, your poor cunt taking each brutal fill of that cock you've been craving so badly.

"she's fuckin' squeezin' me, sweet'art. missed me tha' much?" he chuckles hoarsely in your ear, and you would have fallen over if not for his firm hold keeping you upright.

yep, he can fuck right off again. you'll get your lick back. just as soon as your legs stop shaking and you're not seeing double.)

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny- pt. 10

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9]

“This you?”

Danny glanced at the stone tablet in Spoiler’s hands and groaned, Phantom form flickering with embarrassment as his face got even more neon green. It was indeed him.

——

The first Atlantean and Ghost King encounter went something like this:

Imagine Danny, sleep deprived. Easy enough. Now, imagine Danny, trying to corral a ghost that had a penchant for sea life.

“Alabastor, I swear to Ancients, if you don’t get back here, I’m gonna make you into ghost sea-food boil!” Danny yelled as he chased Alabastor through the ghost zone. The crustacean shaped ghost cackled, skittering along the Zone.

"Make me, Phantom! You have not seen the might of the sea!"

"That's it, soup-time, crabby!"

Danny dove after Alabastor, chasing him face first into a temporal portal and right into the sea.

"BEHOLD!" Alabastor rumbled, claws raised and sea churning around him. Danny flew at him, noticing the screaming people below. He quickly raised a dome of clear ice to protect their entire city before returning his attention back to the giant crustacean. The distraction cost him, as Alabastor blasted him with a beam of his power. "THE MIGHT OF THE SEA!"

"SOUP!" Danny bellowed back, Alabastor's power forcing him into a giant crab form, aside from, hilariously, his head. Danny, always quick to adapt, slammed a massive claw straight into one of Alabastor's eyes and popped open the Fenton Thermos with a feral grin. In but moments, Danny manages to soup Alabastor but not before slamming him down onto the unbreakable ice Danny had just made.

Carefully turning by skittering sideways, he unmelted his ice.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly to the gawking civilians below.

"Suh-ree? What is suh-ree?" A brave woman asked.

"Oh," Danny uttered as he realized that he should probably switch languages. His giant crab body and small itty bitty human head swayed in an unsure motion. "Sorry means "my apologies." I had not meant to involve you. I am Phantom."

"It is alright... thank you for protecting us... God Phantom?"

He grimaced. "Not a god."

"King, then." She stepped forward. "May I ask of the ice?"

——

Spoiler, sensing weakness like the Riddler to a riddle, leaned in. "Did you know they have a traditional dance to honor the god that gave them the unbreakable ice that protects Atlantis to this day? It goes like this," Spoiler stepped back and did the dance, complete with exaggerated arm movements and, embarrassingly, the scuttle walk Crab!Danny was forced to learn with his new crab form.

"We shall never speak of this again," Danny huffed.

"But King Phantom, the God of Eternal Ice and Protection, how could we not celebrate your iciness?" Spoiler simpered, Black Bat not too far away and shaking with laughter. The purple donning vigilante did the scuttle dance once more, picking up bottles as she went a small circle around one of Bludhaven's rock beaches.

Danny scowled and plucked the tablet away from her, hair flowing an a more agitated direction. His jumpsuit burned brighter. "Why are you two menaces in Bludhaven? I thought your territory was in Gotham."

"Nightwing asked for back up and we were in the area." Spoiler, blessedly, stopped the walk to answer him. "By the way, are you and Danny dating?"

"Pardon?" He asked, insulted but highly amused.

"Oh, you know, he has your number, and you only ever talk to him outside of us, and how you guys have a high level of communication." Spoiler said leadingly.

Oh, Danny knew what this was about now. He found out their identities and now these two are interrogating him because he liked them best. They thought they were so clever. Well, they clearly haven't gotten to know Danny at all if they thought he was going to make good decisions.

Danny tilted his head, making sure his face gets as eerie as possible, shadows elongating and eyes burning just that much brighter. The neon green of his face shone even brighter against the suddenly dark landscape of the place. Black Bat stood up, laughter seizing immediately. Spoiler tensed.

"I have a riddle for you. You are good at those, are you not?"

Spoiler blinked but gamely said, "Bring it."

"What do these things have in common? An arguing couple, papers on a stranger's desk, and Star City's robbers."

"..." Spoiler slipped into her solving mode. "Stolen goods. Stolen hearts?" She guessed.

"No. The answer is that they're all none of your business," Danny snarled. His form flickered. "Keep your questing away from Danny- Daniel, vigilante. Your duty is to protect your city and help her," Danny swept an arm out. "Stick to that instead of inserting yourself into places you are not wanted."

Then, with a toss of an ecto-crossed recorder that held the verbal report he'd promised Nightwing towards Black Bat, Danny blinked out of the visible spectrum and flew above the two.

"... Shit, I think I pissed him off."

Black Bat nodded. "He was defensive."

"Yeah... did you hear that slip? Oh, they are so dating."

Danny grinned. He couldn't wait for Tim to interrogate him soon.

——

"You're kidding."

Danny shook his head, maniacal grin still on his face hours later. He'd taken the liberty to call his best friends before classes started for the day.

Tucker groaned. "Danny, I can't believe you're messing with Batman. Why are you like this."

"Look, I need your help."

"Oh no, keep me out of your dumbass plans, Fenton," Sam pointed at him through the screen, immaculately painted black nails threatening.

"Okay, if you go along with my plan, I'll give you Dr. Isley's number."

"Deal," Sam said immediately, changing her tune at a drop of a hat. Or, at a drop of a number.

"What about me?" Tucker asked, offended. "I deserve compensation for my work too, dammit!"

"I'll give you Tim Drake's number and persuade him to let you have a crack at Wayne Industry's tech basement."

"Deal, what are we doing?"

Danny's grin spread even wider. "We're dating. And, you two? You're Phantom's exes. Tucker, you say good stuff about me. Sam? You make up terrible things about me. But we're all dating each other and I'm dating Phantom on the side."

"I hate you," Sam deadpanned. "But fine, it's not that hard. I've got tons of embarrassing stories about Phantom. You better get me that number, Danny, because you know Dr. Isley was my gay awakening."

"For Tim Drake, I'd be willing to puff up your ego." Tucker said solemnly.

"Perfect. I'm cleaning his brother of ectoplasm today. so expect a call later! Love you guys!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, boyfriend." Sam clicked off the call.

"Think Tim Drake would be interested in a date?" Tucker asked Danny.

"Nah, I think he's got his heart on Benard."

"Damn," Tucker sighed. "Guess I'll have to mend my broken heart with the tools of a state-of-the-art lab, right, Danny?"

"Yep, see ya!" Danny hung up. Today was going to be a good day.

[redbowedblogger]

The thought of mer!prowl having to teach Jaz to hunt in @keferon 's post apocalypse ponyo au. Just like he probably had to teach his little brothers. Jazz not knowing what or how to eat. So I did a thing

"Prowl.”

“What-?” Prowl was frustrated. This whole damn mess was going on for far longer than he had ever feared. He needed to get back to his pod. His family. Those fragging humans and their twisted sense of “mercy” had almost trapped him in a life of servitude and solitude. All over a little damage to his melon, nothing a proper mer healer couldn't fix, but clearly beyond their limited medical knowledge. And then everything changed when the wave had hit.

Calling it a wave felt a bit misleading. A miles high flood of oceanic rage that all but wiped the human city off the coastline and allowed for his escape. Their escape. This poor strange mer he had met in that box of stone and steel and glass. The one who had weak fins and an iron grip and no memory of the ocean. Jazz, who had been so excited to meet him.

He had been useful enough at the start. Practically hauling prowl along the dry rough pathways before they could reach the floodways proper and swim away. And it was handy to have one person with functional echolocation as they swam through the worst of the wrecked buildings, But after that he had unfortunately become quite the nuisance. Flighty and distracted by every flashy bit of detritus in the water, startled by fish a quarter of his size, and the talking. Relentless jabbering about everything and anything, occasionally bursting into one of those strange human songs, their tones and rhythm poorly suited for an aquatic environment. Prowl didn't really know why he had continued to let this stranger swim with him. Perhaps it was a debt of gratitude for helping him survive and escape. Perhaps it was his sense of duty, this jazz was ill equipped to survive on his own and had almost perished the first time they had hit a rip.

Perhaps it was because he was the only company in these waters that wasn't a bloodthirsty mutation, a shambling wretched gasping thing that was not mer not human not fish but some horrific combination of the three with their gangly limbs, razor claws and rows and rows of serrated ripping teeth.

And his singing was really good, when he chose the right song.

“Prowler I'm hungry. Is there anything to eat?” jazz asked, his posture meek as he floated neutral in the water.

“Of course there is. Just grab something and let's go. We are losing daylight and i'd like to find somewhere safe to camp before it gets dark.”

Dangerous things swam in the dark waters.

“What do you mean?” Jazz asked, thoroughly confused.

“Jazz we are surrounded by fish right now. Pick one and let's go.” prowl gestured to the schools of shimmering fish surrounding them. They were swimming through what had once been a park, the vegetation on the trees now replaced with algae and budding coral growths, the streetlights crusted with barnacles, and what was left of grassy fields struggling to survive as crabs and rays scuttled among the waving green vegetation grazing.

“Yeah that. How do I know which ones are good to eat? And how exactly am I supposed to just ‘grab one' they are all wicked fast.” Jazz pouted.

Prowl closed his eyes and counted to ten, digging deep for the well of patience typically reserved for only the youngest pod members before facing the mer behind him.

“You're a mer. We are the top predators of our natural environment. Everything is good to eat. Well, most of it. Watch me.” Prowl instructed as he swam off a few clicks. His echolocation was still trashed and would be until he could get back to his pods healer, so he would have to hunt by sight. Spotting a fish he liked he swiftly maneuvered around the school, herding them towards an algae covered statue to separate them. With a powerful flick of his tail he changed direction to head the stragglers off and turn them towards the branches of a tree. With another casual turn he isolated the one he wanted and with an effortless burst of speed; caught it in his claws and ripped its head off with his sharp teeth.

Jazz was in awe. Prowl moved so fast! The speed and grace in his turns as he effortlessly put the fish exactly where he needed it.

“Woah! That was slick, man I mean slick. How’d you do that?” Jazz asked with an excited shout and a backwards roll. Prowl finished the fish with a roll of his eyes.

“Everyone can do that. You can too, I know you have the agility for it. It's no harder than those silly dances the two legs made you do.”

“I don't know…”

Prowl sighed. This mer, This clever, happy, sociable mer, had been deprived of nearly every aspect of life prowl took for granted.

No open waves to surf.

No territory to call his own.

No pod to care for him.

He couldn't even hunt his own food.

They had enough time before they needed to bed down for the night.

“Here let's practice.” Prowl offered as he flicked another fish from the herd. Except this time, instead of decapitation he clipped one pectoral and half of its tail fin. As he let it go the fish wobbled back into the school, its progress hampered. When the others zigged it tended to zag.

“Catch the fish. Use any trick you can think of. Flips, rolls, dives. Whatever. Just remember that sight hunting is all about focus. Don't take your eyes off your prey for a second. Catch the fish and you will eat.” Prowl instructed.

Jazz hesitated for a moment. Then the hollow call of his stomach galvanized him to action.

Jazz bolted after the lamed fish and something began to sing in his veins. That feeling started deep in his bones and radiated up to tingle just under his skin. It electrified every muscle in his body from the tip of his tail to the end of his nose. He had never felt so at ease in water. He could feel the movement of the currents and somehow he knew exactly how to play off it. He dove and twirled and the fish scattered in a fluttering cloud of silver. A flick of his tail and he separated the other half of the herd.

He smiled as zeroed in on his target.

This felt good.

This felt right.

This felt fun.

The taste of silver fish in his mouth had never been so sweet.

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters React to Famous Paradoxes

As requested by @variaandroise :)

And because it just makes sense, it will be Hoid torturing everyone by confronting them with paradoxes.

1. The Liar Paradox

Hoid: Consider the statement, "This statement is false." Steris: Okay... Steris: If it's true, then it must be false.. Steris: But if it's false, then it must be true! Steris: T-That's horrible! I hate it! Steris: ... Steris: Wax! Come in here; I want to tell you something! Hoid: Now THAT'S a marriage.

2. The "Least Interesting Man in the World" Paradox

Hoid: Imagine if you lined every person up from most interesting to least interesting. Elhokar (suspiciously): Where am I in the line? Hoid: Now imagine the person at the very end of the line: the least interesting person in the world. Elhokar: Is that supposed to be me?? Hoid: That person, merely on the basis of being the least interesting person in the world, must become interesting, right? Elhokar: Kind of a backhanded compliment. I'm a king, you know! Hoid: It's - It's not you. You're not in this story. Elhokar: I'm NOWHERE in a line of EVERY person? Elhokar: Wow. Elhokar: I thought you respected me more than that. Hoid: ...Why do I even try?

3. Crocodile Paradox

Hoid: Imagine a crocodile who has stolen this man's baby, BUT he promises to return the baby if the father can guess whether the crocodile will eat it or return it. Siri: Strangely nice, for a crocodile. Vivenna: It still stole a baby! Hoid: Let's say the dad says, "You'll give my baby back." Well, the crocodile could just say, "You're wrong!" and eat the baby. Hoid: But what if the dad says, "You'll eat my baby." What will the crocodile do? Siri: Yeah, that's probably what Dad would say. Vivenna: Let's be real. He probably offered the baby to the crocodile in the first place. Siri: My husband's actually nice though. Vivenna: Maybe the crocodile is nice. Dad didn't know it, though. Siri: True, true. Hoid: ...I feel like we're getting off topic here.

4. The Burali-Forti Paradox

Shallan: What is that noise?? Hoid: Oh, I told the cryptics about the Burali-Forti Paradox. Hoid: You know, that a set of ordinal numbers would be an ordinal number smaller than itself. Shallan: The hums are deafening! Shallan: Are they pleased or screaming? Pattern: Shallan! Shallan! It turns math is the best lie of all! Hoid: Pleased, I think.

5. The Liar Paradox (again)

Hoid: Consider the statement, "This statement is false." Yumi: Oooh, yeah. That doesn't work at all, does it? Hoid: Does it bother your brain? Yumi: Not really. Hoid: Really? It does for most people. Yumi: Consider my life. Hoid: ... Hoid: Okay. Fair.

6. The Crab & the Arrow

Hoid: If you fire an arrow at a tort--I mean, at a crab, the arrow has to get halfway to the target before it reaches it, right? Kaladin (suspiciously): Yes? Hoid: And then it has to reach the halfway point of the distance that remains, right? Kaladin (more suspiciously): Yes? Hoid: And then it has to reach the halfway point of the distance that remains again! And again! And again! Every time the distance halves, it has to reach the halfway point again! Hoid: So logically, the arrow will never reach the crab. Kaladin: Well, of course not. Hoid: Really? Kaladin: You've been talking so long that the crab has definitely scuttled away by now. Kaladin: Crabs aren't idiots, you know.

7. Penrose Stairs (link to picture)

Hoid: Look at these impossible stairs! Lightsong: Yes, yes. Artistic representation of the futility of life. We've all seen it. Llarimar: [Dutifully writing this down]

8. God paradox

Hoid: Can God create a boulder too heavy for him to lift? Harmony: Yeah. Harmony: It's actually easier than you might think to create a situation that you, a god, can't deal with. Harmony: Being a god is actually really hard! Hoid: ... Hoid: Maybe this would work better in a place where gods are omnipotent.

9. Sorites Paradox

Hoid: Imagine you have a heap of sand. Kenton: Super easy. I am crushing this. Hoid: Now imagine you take one grain of sand from the heap. Kenton: You're not even challenging me here. Hoid: It's still a heap of sand, right? Kenton: Yes, of course. Hoid: Well, imagine you keep taking single grains of sand away. Eventually--all the sand will be gone. No more heap. So at some moment, a single grain being removed changed it from a heap to not-a-heap. But when? Kenton: Never. As long as it BELIEVES it is a heap and WANTS it badly enough, it will always be a heap! Hoid: ...What about when all the sand is gone? Kenton: Who cares if there's no sand? I say, it is still a heap! Hoid: Is there someone else I can talk to?

10. Barber Paradox

Hoid: Imagine a barber who declares that he will shave only and all men who do not shave themselves. The question is: Does he shave himself? Kelsier: No. Hoid: Well, then he must be a man who doesn't shave himself, which means the barber must shave him! But once he does, then he's a man who shaves himself, so he can't! Hoid: Paradox! Kelsier [arms folded]: When does he become a man who doesn't shave himself? Hoid: What? Kelsier: Sure, once he shaves himself, then he's a man who shaves himself. But if he doesn't, he still might be a man who is going to shave himself at some point, but he hasn't. Kelsier: I don't see why he can't exist in that quantum state forever, neither shaving himself nor definitively becoming a man who doesn't, hence delaying the paradox. Forever. Hoid: ...You would say that. Kelsier: Bite me.

[4mrplumi]

02. spiderwocky ── secrets you'd keep

platonic | spiderverse x spiderman!reader x batfamily | ms. list

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤdisclaimers on masterlist!

index. prologue , chapter one , chapter two , chapter three ... to be continued. based on this

two days, you hum, two days, you tap your foot impatiently on the floor, two days, the sp//dr bracelet on your wrist feels tight, two days till you go back to school. summer break has always been a buffer in between the year, taking you away from somewhere where you’re comfortable, to someplace that’s just plain awkward. a reminder that you can’t run, spiderman, can’t run.

the suit’s come along beautifully. you don’t have much opportunity or time to really test it out, since gotham’s crackly, ancient buildings would probably crumble under the weight of metal, but it looks nice. 

the suit, yeah. it’s taken up most of your time this break. you’ve not had much time to creep up to your brothers and turn away when they don’t hear you. gotham’s always lonely, but with sp//dr this time, you fit in your skin a bit better. even while it itches and shudders under the pressure of wanting to leap around again.

in preparation, you’ve quarrelled your way into getting permission to use gotham prep’s chemistry lab after school hours, lightly nagging bruce into signing a form for you, one he didn’t really even glance at. you’re trying to figure out how to make stronger web fluid, storing all of sp//dr’s feedback in the back of your head. the past few days, you’ve been leaving the manor at five, telling alfred you’ll be back by six, and sneaking back to the manor at nine, since he doesn’t check. storing the fluid is another thing, figuring out different capsules… ejection systems… it’s boring work.

the bell outside rings, notifying the end of school hours for people who stay back for extra classes. you’ve been meaning to get home earlier today, working up the courage to ask tim or barbara to “help with a school project” and get their notes on your totally hypothetical material that’s 2.62 (+1.00 since you’re experimenting)  times stronger than steel. you’re shoving books you borrowed from the library to disguise yourself as an overeager student while you leave the lab, so focused on what you’re going to say later, you don’t notice bumping into someone head-on.

the guy’s at least two times larger than you, but he stumbles harder than you, reminding you you’re supposed to stumble too. you feign a fall, getting up with a huff- you’re about to apologise when you see the guy’s face twist- angry. you stiffen. spiderman confronts conflict with fight, (name) only knows how to run.

“what the hell?-” he takes a step forward, eyebrows pinched so low his face looks disfigured, hazy-eyed too, “look where you’re going bitch!”. you cringe a little, “… i’m sorry?” he fumes even more, this guy’s got some serious issues up there. his coarse hands come up to shove you, but you don’t fall back, before remembering that you probably should. forcefully, your head hits the side of the door, and you hiss in irritation.

you haul yourself aside, and he trips on his feet, falling with a frustrated yelp. it’s best you leave, (name)’s great at running away. the corridor isn't very long, holding onto the straps of your bag, sp//dr hums on your wrist as you hurry down the stairs. “gotham is so unique,” she notes, “odd folk everywhere.” you squint, “doesn’t make gotham very unique if odd people are everywhere though, does it?”

“don’t tell me what to do- all you washed up... washed up nerds think you’re so bloody better than the rest of us-” what the hell is this guy talking about? is he drunk? doesn’t seem outta place for a teenager to be drunk in gotham. and nerd? he should aim lower, hit harder, think brighter- you interrupt him, and your flurry of thoyghts, scuttling over your sentence- “i- uh, i don’t go here.”

the world slows down, and you see his fist come up, aimed at your face. sp//dr tuts; unappreciative, like an aged aunty.

if she could smile, maybe she would’ve, you hear it in her voice. “perhaps, i wouldn’t say we’re not too odd either.” the hurt on your head starts to ebb out, your healing factor’s been developing slowly.

two pairs of masked eyes narrow outside a small window, peering in at you in the stairwell, in a sync that could be described as unnatural. odd. you miss them when you duck your head, and they scatter by the time you’re up again.

“i don’t want to alarm you,” sp//dr says, through what would’ve been gritted teeth… if she wasn’t, you know, toothless, “but those two fellows over there, have been following us for a while.” you know they have, glancing shortly at them, and you think they know you know too.

the ride to the train station was quiet, you spent most of it looking outside, willing yourself to blink manually. alfred dropped you, since despite your low involvement with the wayne family, bruce was still paranoid of any potential harm. 

hey, you think a little brightly, at least he bothered. 

break’s over, thank goodness, and your suit’s been sent back to gotham entirely disassembled, disguising itself as a robotics project (at least, that’s what you told alfred when you went out to mail it back to queens). you’d set your head against the window, and your head vibrated, rapping against the glass. 

…

alfred drove off after a few pleasantries, a gentle “safe travels”, and a nod in your direction. you might miss him, keyword: might, and check the time and the car drives off. eleven forty-three, you have half an hour before the train comes by. 

sp//dr notices your silence, and hums against your wrist, made into a bracelet. “get something to eat, (name);” she’d said, “missed breakfast in your rush.” you’d made a noise of acknowledgement, rattling your suitcase so that the wheels get unstuck from the crevices in the pebbled-stone. 

a sandwich maybe? you’re not hungry actually, haven’t had much time to do anything that would really make you hungry. the place’s littered with people, people, and more people. it’s only a few minutes into looking around that your senses start to bubble, and a familiar instinct of anxiety buzzes. 

two men, one dressed like a cowboy and the other in flashy cloth, fairly normal but… you look around, a little out of place. no one else seems to notice them there, and you’re a little unsettled, turning your back to them and sprinting to a small stall, paying quickly for a sandwich you don’t actually have time to eat. 

“hey kid,” a voice speaks out, heavy on the accent, a hand on your shoulder. you whip around, “was hoping to catch a word.” it’s the cowboy, and you’ve gone stiff, stammering nervously. “um…

do.. do i know you?” the man smiles, but your sense isn’t going off… okay, (name), you inhale, just relax, listen, and get the hell out. you literally have a train to catch!

“you wouldn’t, but you should,” you tilt your head. the man sticks out a hand “patrick o’hara, and this is…” he gestures at the other man, “my, err, colleague, cooper coen.”

you tap your foot against the floor, “um. and?” the other guy; cooper, smiles, probably finding your bluntness funny. “we’ll cut to the chase, (name)”, he knows your name. they know your name, why do they know your name? “we know you’re spiderman.”

your ears start to buzz, sp//dr feels tight on your wrist.

patrick scratches his goatee, following up awkwardly, “errr… well, this world’s spiderman, he means.” you hope you’re not too rude, in the way you’re staring, and the hissed string of swears that follow.

“multiple spidermans and multiple worlds…” you inhale slowly, taking a sip from the soda cooper bought for the three of you, “how does that work?”

the three of you sit on a rickety bench, twenty minutes before your train’s here. “now can’t go into the specifics, kid” patrick grumbles, “all some technic gibberish that’d be better off from the horse's mouth.” you try not to sound dumb, “... your horse?” 

he barks out a laugh, startling sp//dr, who’s revealed her spindly form and sits on your lap behind your soda glass. “no, no, from the boss, yeah? you’ll meet him when we get there.”

cooper looks at you pointedly, “and we will get there. there’ll be arrangements made for your school and…” he hesitates, you squint, he squints, patrick coughs, “your family? anyway, we’ve given you the basics- you got them, right? just don’t go around- you know, freaking out.” 

patrick hums, the sound like a low tractor engine, “yeah, we’ve got another nutcase to-be-fixed, work’s tough all around.”

“i’m not a nutcase,” they hear you grumble under your breath, “i won’t freak out.” patrick claps a hand on your shoulder, his soda untouched, “never said so, kid.”

there’s a click of electricity, and the two of them look down at orange watches clasped on their wrists in sync. cooper said something about it being “communication tech” but you didn’t get to ask as many questions as you’d like. it’s difficult for you to infer the hologram that shoots up from it (and sp//dr’s too obviously intrigued), but they stand up with overlapping mutters.

“well,” cooper motions his head towards a slightly more secluded, hidden area, “you coming, kid?”

you hesitate. “how do i know this isn’t some kind of trick? doesn’t sound very real.” patrick o’hara pulls a piece of red cloth over his face, two white parallelograms for eyes on it; looks a little like the visors on your suit. “don’t really have a reason to be tricking the newbie-spider do we, cooper?”

“we don’t,” the other drawls, turning away from the two of you, “besides it’ll be good for you too.” 

“good how?”

patrick looks a little uncomfortable, cooper’s face is turned away. 

“don’t stress over it, you’ll see soon enough.”

sp//dr tuts, expanding over into a bracelet on your wrist. she wants to say something, and you want to hear. but these… two, are making it hard. she won’t speak in front of them. you really wish she would.

dear mr. davis,

as a new academic year for midtown school of science and technology approaches, we write to you in regards of a student in your junior year, (name) parker-wayne, who will unfortunately be unable to attend for the academic first term. 

due to their volunteering in our special research and development programme this summer, we request you excuse their absence until ##-##-####. we here at the society understand that the projects at our establishment will take time from (name)’s academics and their education at your school, and would like to assure you that we have kept such formal anomalies in line. 

attached are signed documents, confirming parker-wayne’s acceptance into our course, permissions from their legal guardians and our project leader, and a form for your establishment to confirm parker-wayne’s excused leave.

regards,

margo kess,

department of physics and astrophysics,

the o'hara science and technology society.

“does (name) wayne have physics?”

“parker-wayne, mr. davis, and beats me.”

₊˚⊹ a/n : finally got #there.. now excuse my bs naming system ok and i'll fix the spacing on the sign off on my laptop tmr!! i have a solid motion on for this fic but lmk if there's anything you'd find interesting in this setting. thank you for all the support, i love this series, and i'll have a new update... soonish? my exams are coming up so probs not very soon 😥

taglist: @shycreatorreview @facelessgetolover @mileskisser @1abi @kenyummy @selvyyr @systemix @momentomoribitch @redsakura101 @k-anaru @stupouid @glowinthedarkjellyfish @blankface333 @sassycupcakecomputer @miyseilish @xzmickeyzx @bat1212 @icefox8155 @st4rg1rln @blankface333 @inkberri @k-anaru

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for derpsheep behind the cut; “a fake cryptid and a real romantic”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Superboy’s only five months, four weeks, and one day old, Tim tells himself. The “time of his life” is not a particularly high bar to set. 

Then he jumps off the roof because he can’t even pretend that’s convincing enough to make his stupid stomach stop doing quadruple somersaults, so at least he’s gonna blame some actual somersaults for that. He drops his grapple line out of Robin’s wings and fires it across the street, and it catches one of the gargoyles–or one of the gargoyles catches it; best efforts aside Tim’s never managed to figure it out either way–and he swings across and hits one of the lower roofs running. The Batman might not follow if they run off decisively enough, so yeah. 

Might. 

“Um, bye, Mx. Batman, nice to see you again!” he hears Superboy call back to the Batman, and then Superboy’s zipping through the air past him, keeping pace at roughly eye-level as Tim runs across the roof and grinning excitedly over at him. “Hey! Um, again.” 

“. . . heyyyyy,” Tim says, which sounds very weird in Robin’s voice but makes Superboy light up delightedly, so like . . . is probably worth damaging the city-spirit mystique a little, he figures. “Hunnnnnt?”

“Um–sure!” Superboy says. “But um–I made you something, too? If, um, you wanna see it later?” 

Tim is really not prepared for that, because he is ninety-nine point nine-nine-repeating percent certain that Superboy means he made him a nest. And if he doesn’t mean that, he definitely means he made him another diamond or something equally intimidatingly impressive. Tim, meanwhile, couldn’t even figure out if he should bring, like, freaking chocolates or something. 

He is so, so bad at dating. 

Also like . . . Superboy is really doing a lot more work here than he’s been doing, Tim can’t help feeling–Superboy’s the one coming to Gotham, and the one bringing presents, and the one stalking him well enough to know his usual patrol routes and literally kidnapping people for him, and, again, taught himself how to make a literally perfect diamond and then just gave it to him. The day they met! He just gave him a literally perfect diamond and also, like, Selina, if Tim wants to get technical about it! 

It is very hard not to get technical about it. 

So–yeah, Tim really needs to figure out something he can do for Superboy before he has to survive seeing whatever Superboy did for him. He’s already bad enough at dating as it is, he needs to, like . . . he doesn’t know, stack the deck or frontload or something. 

“Laaaaater,” he agrees, then jumps across the narrow gap to the exterior of the next building, catches his talons in the brick, and then scuttles up to its fire escape and then up that to its own roof. Superboy flies up after him, still seeming excited, so . . . well, at least he doesn’t mind waiting a little to show him whatever he’s gonna ruin his brain with, Tim thinks. So that’s . . . something, yeah. 

God, what is he supposed to do that Superboy would not only like but would also believe a city splinter would do for him? Like, genuinely, what are even his options here? 

Crap. 

Okay, maybe he should actually have talked to Dick about this. 

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

To Rate a Hug part 2 of ?

Tags: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer Morningstar x Reader, humor, antics, shenanigans, Alastor is a petty bitch, Lucifer is a dork, Reader is also a dork

part 1

Alastor’s ear twitched at the sound of someone shouting your name. He glanced over, seeing Lucifer skip up to you like a lovestruck fool.

“Hey, Luci!” You said with a grin, scooping up the fallen angel in a hug. Lucifer’s eyes briefly took on a heart shape as he hugged you back, a light blush on his cheeks.

Alastor turned his attention back to his reading. A low growl permeated from his chest without his permission which agitated him even more. Wasn’t the thing you said at that silly little activity about wanting his attention? Why now has that shifted to Lucifer?

Was it because he gave you what you wanted?

Alastor gritted his teeth, grin straining. This is a ridiculous waste of thought. If this pettiness is simply because he wouldn’t indulge in your strange desires than it wasn’t worth his time-

“Alastor, you okay?”

Your voice snapped him out of his musings. He quickly composed himself and gave you a bright smile.

“Of course, my dear!” He said “Whatever makes you think otherwise?”

“Um. Probably because you’re hunched over in the corner growling.” Lucifer said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Alastor’s eye twitched. Why was this idiot still here?

“Don’t you have something you need to be doing?” He said with mock interest “I imagine the King of Hell has quite a full schedule.”

Lucifer shrugged “Not really. I’m kind of just here to look pretty.”

You snickered at that, covering your mouth with one hand. Lucifer stood up taller, puffing his chest out.

“Yes, well. I do.” He said, slipping away into the shadows.

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

Your ears went down, watching Alastor slip away. Did the conversation from the other day bother him that much? If that’s the case you’d need to apologize. And, well, no time like the present.

“I’m going to go talk to him.” You said, shooting Lucifer a smile. The King jumped a bit at your voice, startled out of the glaring contest he was having with where Alastor just was. He frowned at you.

“Um. Maybe you shouldn’t?”

You picked him up and held him out at arm’s length “Listen, I get where you’re coming from, but I think this is partially my fault, so I need to talk to him.”

“How is it your fault he’s an asshole?” Lucifer said, flailing his arms about.

“Well…Maybe my comment in the Truth or Dare thing made him uncomfortable…”

“That’s his problem, then.” He snorted, crossing his arms.

You sighed, gently placing Lucifer back on the ground. You put his hands on both of his shoulder and leaned down to be eye-level. “Again, I appreciate where you’re coming from. But I feel like I should talk to him about this so I’m going to.”

He bit his lip, brows furrowing. “Uh….Okay.” He ran a hand down his face “Just. Just be careful, all right?”

You grinned “Nah, I’mma run with scissors.”

“That’s like, the opposite of careful.” Lucifer pouted. He took a deep breath and gave you a small smile. “See you later.”

You said your farewell and scuttled off. Alastor would likely be in either his room or his radio tower, you figured. Which were both typically off-limits but you’d be sure to get his permission before barging in. You stopped by his tower first and knocked on the door a couple of times. When that got no response at all you scurried over to his room and knocked a couple times.

“Who’s there?”

Oh boy you could not resist. “Owl says!”

“…Owl says who?”

“That they do!” You said, cackling at your own stupid joke. There was another staticy cackle that quickly joined your own. The door opened and Alastor grinned down at you.

“Very silly joke, my dear. What can I help you with?”

You snorted, wiping a hand under your eyes to brush away the tears. “Well, you’re in a better mood.”

“Difficult not to be when someone surprises you with a horrible knock-knock joke.” He said with the slightest shrug of his shoulders.

“Good point.” You said “Hey, can I talk to you?”

“Fascinatingly enough, you already are.” He said, tilting his head.

“Not what I meant-“

“I know, I know. Come on in.” He said, putting a hand between  your shoulders and pushing you inside. He kicked the door shut behind him with the heel of his shoe and stood there probably doing something but you weren’t paying attention, staring instead at Alastor’s room.

Half of it was a fancy-looking hunting lodge, while the other half a swamp. Fireflies blinked in and out over the waters and you could hear crickets and frog chattering. It smelled like damp moss and sawdust with just hints of coffee.

“Nice room.” You said dumbly. Alastor chuckled, pushing you over to the soft-looking lounge chairs and sitting you down. He sat across from you, crossing his legs in front of him and folding his hand on his lap.

“Now, what did you need to talk about?”

“Oh! Yeah.” You said and turned your attention away from the giant gator skeleton mounted on the wall. “I wanted to apologize.”

He tilted his head “…For what?”

“Um. I think I made you uncomfortable.” You rubbed the back of your neck “With the ‘who I’d want to hug’ comment? I really should’ve kept that to myself. I mean, I know you like your personal space and don’t really want people thinking of invading it-.” You stopped your rambling and took a steadying breath. “So. Yes. I wanted to apologize.”

Empty static hung in the air.  You started rocking in your seat, hunching over yourself. Alastor just stared at you, glowing red eyes a sharp contract to the gentle greens and browns behind him.

“I suppose I didn’t expect you to give up quite that easily.” He said, grin unmoving. He tilted his head to the opposite side, eyes squinting ever-so-slightly “If that’s something you wanted so badly, after all…”

You blinked. “Um.” Then realization hit you with a brick “…Did you want me to try hugging you?”

The audible record scratch gave you an answer. Alastor straightened up, clasped hands tightening into a white-knuckled grip.

What he wanted was your attention back on him, and not that fool of a king. What he wanted was you to pursue him and not Lucifer.

“Perhaps.” Alastor said.

You sighed. “Then you should’ve said so, Alastor. I’m not a mind reader. What I got from our talk after that was you thought I wanted something from you and that made you uncomfortable.”

Alastor’s ear twitched. “…So you’re diverting your attention to Lucifer because….?”

You shrugged “Dude’s touch-starved. You give him a hug and he turns into the happiest person in Hell.”

You jumped when Alastor had appeared right in front you. His grin was wide. “So it’s pity that has your attention on him?”

“Uh. No.” You muttered, pushing him away “Really it’s just… Well he gives pretty good hugs. Once I realized I can pick him up to the hug was pretty much perfect.”

“Oh I’m sure I can be much better.” Alastor said with a huff, waving you off. “You wouldn’t have to break your spine or pick someone up for a embrace of much higher quality.”

You rose your eyebrow, ears flicking. “Okay. Before I continue. Our conversation has lead be to believe you want me to try and hug you. Is this correct?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Not really, saying giving mixed signals and being cryptic are your favorite past times.” You said with a roll of your eyes.

Alastor’s grin stiffened. His ears pinned back as he suddenly found the swamp more interesting. He snapped his fingers and a piece of paper appeared over your face. You jumped, startled, then took the paper and read it.

Yes pursue the hug thing and tell NO ONE.

You snorted, biting your lip not to laugh. But then you laughed anyway.

“Oooooh buddy you have no idea what kind of game you’re playing now.” You said with a sinister grin. “I’mma hug you.”

“I’m sure your attempts will be amusing.” He said casually, checking his claws.

“I warn you, I have many sinister plans at my disposal.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Starting my first plan. A-hem. Can I hug you?”

“Mmm….Nope!”

Well that didn’t work.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Your stories have definitely scratched that Astarion itch that I've had since I started the game!

One thing that's diffently not sat right with me at the end of the game, is how tav and the gang don't run after astarion after he loses his immunity to the sun. I would imagine that if the player character was romantically involved with the guy they would atleast try to shield or comfort the poor guy. A short drabble on that would be awesome!

That's so sad, I heard that's what happens 😭😭 I'm in act 3 and haven't had to see it for myself yet so yes, let's do some preemptive therapy there! And just warning since I haven't beaten the game yet I'm sure this will be inaccurate as fuck, but also with spoilers somehow ~

~

It was an exhilarating feeling, to win against all odds. One that Astarion had never been confident he would experience. It felt good, final. The official beginning of his new free life, even if it was bittersweet.

This was the bitter part, the end of his illithid protection. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and the burn was already starting. He was being an idiot, standing there with the rest of you like he belonged, waiting for the last possible second before he had to scuttle down in the darkness. But he wanted to see this out. Hadn't he earned that right?

According to the laws of reality, no. No he hadn't, because you had barely opened your mouth before the pain started to overwhelm him. The others would be able to hear it, the sickening sound of his skin crackling.

He was out of time. But before he could make a break for it, you happened. Astarion had been a little preoccupied with his impending doom to pay close attention to what you had been mumbling. But then sudden blackness was blanketing above your heads, opaque enough to make it as dark as night.

Astarion's eyes widened as the pain subsided, surprised beyond belief.

You were looking at him with concern in your eyes, gesturing to the think cloud of darkness above your head, "Will this be dark enough? Can it still get through?"

Astarion stared at you, momentarily confused on why you would do something like that. Before he remembered, oh. Yes. The extended care for his well-being was probably included in the whole love thing. Of course. Obviously.

That was definitely going to take some getting used to.

But the reasoning didn't stop an idiotic smile from blooming on his face.

You grinned back at him, somehow still managing to read his mind even without the tadpoles, "Did you really think I would forget about you?"

He had, but through no fault of your own. One of these days he was going to actually remember that he was worth the effort to keep alive.

"Thank you darling," Astarion said, ignoring the quested as he waltzed up to you. He grabbed your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss, "Just what would I do without you?"

"Speaking of," You turned to the Emperor, a question in your eyes as you vaguely waved upward, "Is there anything we can do about this particular problem?"

"The astral tadpole is still-"

"I'll pass on that, thank you very much," Astarion interrupted, cringing at the very thought of willingly letting another worm into his brain, "But I appreciate the thought."

There were worse things than living his life in darkness. And Astarion was counting becoming a mind flayer in the top three.

He watched, participated even in everyone's final goodbyes, always eyeing you at of the corner of his eye. It's not that he thought you would leave after you both declared your eternal love for each other, but... the two of you hadn't exactly talked about the specifics of the future either.

But that didn't stop you from leaving together. Astarion hadn't expected you to keep the dark cloud above his head as you walked the streets, startling nearly every passerby. But hells, the heroes of Baldur's gate had earned the right to a little strangeness.

You both had decided on going to the nearest, most windowless inn that you could find. Astarion wanted nothing more than to scrub the brain viscera from his skin and sleep for three days. Preferably with you in his arms.

But before all that... he had to know something.

The question was out of him as soon as you both were behind closed doors, "So what happens next to the great hero of Baldur's Gate? I'm sure you have something in mind."

He was just praying those future plans still involved him.

You blinked at him, head cocked like he was asking a silly question, "We go and find you a cure so you can walk in the sun again of course. What else would we do?"

That took Astarion aback, "I-Do you think that's really possible?"

"Well," You started, counting off on your fingers, "We know that illithid powers can do it. As well as devil contacts and ritualistic demon sacrifices. If that's all possible then that means there has to be something else on the other end of the spectrum, right?"

Astarion didn't exactly share your blind confidence. But you did have a point. The two of you had managed so many impossible feats in such a short amount of time. What was one more?

"I suppose there's a chance," Astarion said, hope fluttering in his chest with every word, "And if there is a chance no matter how small, I'm going to take it. But..."

He didn't want to ask, but he needed to know, "Are you sure this is what you want? I would... understand if you wanted to go your own way."

In all honesty, Astarion would not understand. He'd be absolutely furious. Especially after everything you'd been through. This was more of a confirmation for his waning self-confidence than anything else, versus a sincere to desire to let you go your own way. He had no intention of letting you go, not if he could help it.

But his near certainty in your feelings was the only thing that gave him the confidence to ask the question in the first place. And you did not disappoint.

"No, this is what I want," You insisted, reaching out to take his hand in yours, "You're what I want."

That was exactly what Astarion needed to hear. He used your joined hands to tug you closer, face to face.

"Good, because as selfless as I am, I really did not want to let you go," Astarion smiled, leaning in to lightly press a kiss to your lips, "I hope you realize that my love has made me a tad bit obsessed with you my dear."

"I'm sure it's no worse than me," You sighed, resting your forehead against his own, "You've really ruined me for anyone else haven't you?"

Astarion grinned, leaning in for another kiss. He had every intention of making it stay that way, for as long as you would have him.

[writingdevil]

Oh lord you're activating my STP hyperfix again oughhh how dare you,,,

I come to you, you blacksmith of words, and offer you Stubborn and Paranoid,,, and then I scuttle away :3€

(A BLACKSMITH OF WORDS?? THAT'S SO NICE AND SUCH A COOL THING TO BE CALLED!! CAN I USE THAT??/j. I'm glad that I can infect other people with my hyperfixation, so that we can all be in these woods together. I wasn't sure whether you wanted this to be a ship or not so I left it up to interpretation. Anyway, enjoy!)

"Hello?"

Go away.

"Is anyone out here?"

Please leave. Please leave.

"Para? Are you here?"

They were following him. They were hurting him.

"Para?"

They were getting closer and closer and closer-

"Oi! There you are!"

Paranoid let a frightened yell out, scrambling out of the bush that he had been hiding behind.

The world spun, a dark and imposing blur in front of him, and Paranoid knew they were here to kill him, that's why they had been following him all day.

"Paranoid! It's me, Stubborn!"

Paranoid choked on a gasp, pressing himself against a tree as he struggled to control his fear and anxiety, having to blink many times before his vision focused again.

His eyes and throat stung, but he managed to focus enough on the voice before him to realise that yes, it was Stubborn in front of him. But that didn't make him feel better one bit.

"Para? What's going on?" Stubborn asked, annoyance on his face and in his voice. "You just freaked out and ran out into the woods. What's wrong?"

"Go- away," Paranoid gritted out, but Stubborn just crossed his arms and said, "Can't do that, especially when you've got everyone else worried about you."

A pang of guilt did come through Paranoid in that moment, before it was immediately overtaken by his fear.

What else was he supposed to do? Let those eyes follow him and lead him to danger? No. No, no, no, no- he was not going to die this way, not after everything he's been through.

Stubborn tried beckoning him forward. "Look, let's just go back inside where you can't hurt yourself even more."

Paranoid shook his head, curling up into a ball. "No. I can't."

Stubborn sighed in exasperation. "Why not?"

"Because they're in the house!"

Stubborn gave him a look that made a spark of fury ignite within him, looking at him as if Paranoid was the problem.

"There is nothing in the house-"

"Yes there is!" Paranoid exclaimed in protest, wrapping his arms around himself. "The eyes keep staring at me in there! I can't go back! I can't take them watching me!"

He needed a moment to try and get his breathing under control, all the while Stubborn was just standing there, giving him a frustrated and conflicted look.

Eventually, when Paranoid was sure that he could talk again, he lowered his gaze to look at his trembling hands, to try and ignore Stubborn's judgemental glare.

The silence would've been comforting, would've helped Paranoid clear his head, but with Stubborn here, that couldn't happen.

Stubborn let a heavy sigh out. "Look, I'm not leaving without you, so you need to listen to me. There are no fucking eyes in the house."

Paranoid whimpered, and he almost missed the wince that Stubborn made at that sound. Paranoid was on the verge of tears at this point. He hated this. He hated his feelings. He hated his mind.

He especially hated the way Stubborn was staring at him-with nothing but pity.

Stubborn continued, his gravelly voice as soft as he could make it, "You're just seeing things-"

But that broke the moment immediately.

"I am not seeing things!" he screamed in Stubborn's face, claws digging into his skin so hard that they were probably cutting him, but he didn't care. "I am not crazy! No matter how much you think I am!"

Stubborn genuinely looked taken aback at his outburst, face frozen in shock, but all Paranoid could focus on was trying not to cry in this moment, mumbling, "I'm not crazy," over and over again to himself.

That went on for so long that Paranoid was starting to believe that he had made Stubborn up as well, until he heard him sigh.

"...Sorry," Stubborn muttered, crouching down in front of Paranoid, and if Paranoid wasn't in the middle of a breakdown, he would've commented on the rare look of guilt on Stubborn's face.

"I'm still not planning on ditching you here. I still need to bring you home."

Paranoid whimpered,squeezing his eyes shut in the hopes of blocking out all the horror that constantly surrounds him. "But the eyes are in there."

"Then I'll protect you."

Paranoid froze, then opened his eyes.

Stubborn was holding his arms out to him, a hopeful glint in his eyes. "I'll make sure that nothing comes near you or hurts you. Everyone will be there to protect you as well in the house."

"Are you sure?" Paranoid asked, his body already leaning forward towards Stubborn's warm and inviting arms.

"Yeah," Stubborn assured with a nod of his head. "What? You think people like Hero and Hunted are gonna let anything bad happen to you?"

That was true. Despite the fear still consuming Paranoid's mind, he knew that that was real. His flock's love was real.

He cautiously looked into Stubborn's eyes- warm, and solid, a determined glint in them that slowly pierced through the fear within him, letting him know for a single moment-Stubborn was safe.

Paranoid took a deep breath, and then reached out towards Stubborn. Stubborn allowed Paranoid to move closer to him, right up until Paranoid's fingers grazed his wrist, and suddenly he let a shuddering gasp out and desperately crawled into Stubborn's arms, who had no problem with immediately scooping Paranoid up, holding him close to his chest.

"I've got you, I'm here," Stubborn whispered, hugging Paranoid protectively, putting a hand over the back of his head, and Paranoid shoved his face into Stubborn's chest, breathing in his comforting scent, feeling his trembling already lessen.

Stubborn stood there for a few minutes, just shushing and rocking Paranoid back and forth, until Paranoid felt all the tension leave his body, safe in Stubborn's arms.

"That's it, you're safe with me," Stubborn whispered, and then began the walk back home, and Paranoid sighed in relief, not feeling any eyes on him at all in that moment, not with Stubborn there to protect him.

[lace-coffin]

Hi!!! I really like your headcanons and I would’ve liked if your wrote some headcanons for Brahms Heelshire, Thomas Hewitt and Yautja (male if possible) with a muscular female reader. A muscle mommy if you will.

Pretty please :3

Hi! I’m so glad you like my headcanons that’s so lovely to hear < 3 I had such a good time writing this omg! I’m gonna write a fem yautja aswell for my little lesbian self !

How would the slashers react to a Muscle mommy!Reader? (NSFW)

Requests are open!

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms loves your muscles, he thinks you’re the most attractive person on this earth anyway but the muscles are an added bonus. He always feels so safe wrapped in your big arms when he’s having a bad day, it makes him feel grounded and protected.

He absolutely loves being put in his place, Brahms can be pretty stubborn at the best of times. Refusing to go to his lessons or take a bath? Up you go! Feel free to give his ass a slap if he kicks. He’ll yell and play up but he loves it, being manhandled over your shoulder like an object. Just ignore the boner pressing into you that he totally doesn’t have and is very angry about.

Demands to add your workout to his schedule. Brahms absolutely sits at the table with a little cup of tea and enjoys the show. The way the sweat drips down your arms is absolutely sinful and he loves every moment.

He absolutely hides behind you if you see a mouse or rat scuttle along the floor of the old mansion. Will your muscles realistically help against a mouse? Probably not. Is the mouse actually going to hurt a fully grown man? No. Does Brahms give a shit? No to both.

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy is a big guy himself, especially in the arm department, so he can appreciate how much work and time goes into your muscles. He defiantly has some weights and gym equipment in the basement for when it’s too hot to work out outside or you don’t feel like leaving the house. It’s a lot darker and cooler down there so you don’t have to worry about passing out from the heat or getting sunburnt.

Tommy will make himself ‘Busy’ in the basement when you’re working out. In reality he’s just moving things around pointlessly in an attempt to look like he’s not ogling you from across the room. If you tease him about it his ears will go a cute shade of pink. Let him know he’s allowed to just watch, he doesn’t need an excuse, hell, give him a little show whilst you’re at it.

Arm wrestling is a family event, and by that I mean you and Tommy wrestle and Hoyt yells from the sidelines. It’s nice for Tommy to have someone to roughhouse with without worrying about snapping their arm like a twig. It’s all fun and games so it’s not about who’s winning. Who’s counting anyway? (You’re totally winning)

If you want to fluster him easily then flex for him, pop him a flex whilst you’re helping move barn equipment, he eats it up every time. If you’re sweaty from the heavy lifting too? Even better

Hoyt has less chance of messing with or insulting you if you’re ripped. knowing that he’s an older man and that you could crush him like a tin can saves you from his scrutiny most of the time. Not that you think you would get to kick his ass before Tommy jumped in, but the idea is nice.

Male Yautja

Your partner is used to seeing female yautja bigger and stronger than himself but seeing it on you is so…different and exciting. He’s fascinated by the way the hard muscle sits on your human frame. He’d be lying if he said your strength didn’t lure him in.

He’s super proud of you, shows you off as his mate at any given chance, excitedly talking about how committed to training you are and how you’re perfectly made for hunting. His human is so little but so strong!!

Your mate loves to gift you jewellery and clothing, especially ones that accentuate your arms and midriff, totally not for his own prying eyes or anything. Bone accessories hang around your biceps, hand tied by your mate. He won’t be offended if you gain more muscle and he needs to alter his jewellery, infact he’d be delighted.

You’re not as strong as him considering he’s a massive reptile-esque alien who could crush you like a bug but you’re strong enough for him to not be as worried about hurting you as he would a normal human. You can play rough and dish it out at the same time. Sometimes he lets you win but he won’t tell you that.

Play fighting is always exiting, one minute you’re cuddling in your nest and the next you have him in a headlock, it’s a dirty move but it’s so worth it to see his mandibles flair as he flails in surprise. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it a little hot too.

Female Yautja

Female Yautja are known for their strength and stature so having someone who stands on even ground (or as even as it can be with your mates strength) is impressive and new to her.

Dressing you up is a favourite pass time of hers, draping you in the finest silky materials from all over the planets and bone jewellery, hand crafted and hunted personally. Your mate is gratuitous in using semi-transparent fabrics for your outfits, giving herself ample opportunity to see slithers of taught muscles as you go about day to day.

Mating is always intense to say the least, usually females will wrestle the males for dominance during intercourse and well, you pack some weight behind you. Both of you are well defined in the muscle area and neither of you like to loose. Luckily you both have pretty good stamina so you’re not exhausted before you actually get to the deed. Sometimes you manage to pin her and the look on her face is gorgeous, fucked out flustered, she might even tilt her head in submission and give you access to her neck if you’re lucky.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

this one is kinda nsfw/tmi, apologies in advance u_u gonna try and keep it as short and detail-less as possible

i live at college and i have a roommate. sometimes, as many humans do, i want to masturbate. i do so in bed, either at night or (sometimes) really early in the morning if i wake up early. my roommate is usually also in the room, in their bed, hopefully but not definitely asleep. im super quiet and i dont think you can like, Hear anything weird, but its a small room and i worry sometimes my roommate knows what's going on. i saw a post on my college's gossip account the other day about (hopefully) someone else's roommate "touching herself" while she thought the poster was asleep and it made me concerned that maybe part of roommate etiquette is never doing that at all?? if my roommate is uncomfortable i doubt they'd say anything-- all my love to them but they are Not very communicative especially about anything they find embarrassing. it took me Forever to convince them to Actually Talk To Me when they were going to have their girlfriend over instead of just scuttling out of the room like a frightened beetle when i accidentally walked in on them (they were always way more embarrassed than me).

reasons i think i might be the asshole: like i said my roommate gets embarrassed easily so if they do know what's going on they're probably uncomfortable. it is a small room and they're probably awake usually. post on college gossip account.

reasons i think i might not be the asshole: i talked to my mom about this concern before leaving for college (we're a very sex positive family lol) and she said as long as you're quiet it shouldn't bother anyone. like i said i'm very quiet and it doesn't happen all that often. there is no other time i could do it that would be less awkward and i'm not a puritan so i don't think Complete Abstinence is the answer either.

school is over in a couple weeks and fingers crossed i'll have a single next year so i won't have to worry about this again. still bc of that gossip post im worried that i may have violated some unspoken social rule (wouldnt be the first time) so: AITA?

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 4

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Masterlist)

Author’s note: I love this series and I want to thank everyone who comments/reblogs/likes. I love you all and it gives me so much motivation to keep working on this series 💕

Cassian limped out of his room, using the wall for support as he walked into the living room.

“Sweetheart, can you grab me the ice pack from the freezer?”

You and Feyre had been in the kitchen making waffles, but the two of you make your way over to Cassian to help him, abandoning the batter you were making. You grab the ice pack from the freezer and a hand towel to wrap around it, while Feyre walks over to help ease Cassian onto the couch, helping him prop his leg up on the coffee table.

You place the ice pack on his knee, grabbing a throw pillow and placing it under his leg.

“Are you okay? What happened?” You ask, concern etched onto your brows.

He sighs, “just my knee flares up if I do too much, and I got a little ambitious with the girl I hooked up with last night.”

Feyre snorts as he waggles his eyebrows. You sit on the arm of the couch facing him, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Cassian leans his head back on the couch, “yeah can you grab my pain meds? They’re probably in my bathroom.”

You scuttle off after he tells you what the bottle looks like, walking through his room into his bathroom. You’re not surprised at how messy it is, clothes litter the floor and papers are strewn across his desk.

You can hear Feyre and Cassian talking but can’t make out what they’re saying as you begin your search. You search through his drawers and medicine cabinet, finding various medicines, condoms, and even pads, but not the bottle he described. The sight of the pads reminds you of a story Mor told where she had told Cassian she was on her period and his response was, “let’s get messy, baby.” You shake the memory away, heading back to tell him the bad news.

“Bad news bud - no medicine.”

He groans, “where the hell did I have it last?” He starts muttering to himself, hoping he didn’t leave it at the gym, when he points to you.

“It’s next door - Az has it. I stuffed it in his gym bag. Could you go check for me?”

Last time you saw Azriel, you had fallen asleep on his thighs, most likely drooling over them in your slumber.

You woke up to a dark room, the tv screen black with disuse. You lift your head, your hand using the pillow to push yourself up. You move your head to find hazel eyes looking into your own.

Your head is a few inches off his thigh, your hand wrapped around it for support.

“Um, hi,” you say, a moment later realizing your hand was on his thigh, quickly pulling it away. You take a quick moment to check the side of your mouth with your hand, praying to any god that will listen that you weren’t drooling on him.

“Hi,” he tells you, “you missed a good movie.”

“Rain check?” You ask, and he chuckles.

“Are you going to fall asleep again?”

“If you ask me, no, but if you ask my friend Feyre, the answer is likely yes.”

He laughs, and you realize his hand is in your hair, as he untangles your hair from his fingers.

“That’s okay. We’ll just have to keep watching it until eventually you make it to the end.”

“Uh, yeah, sure Cass.”

You start to leave, but Feyre grabs your arm. “I just told Cassian about how we’re going axe throwing. I invited him and his brothers.”

Feyre winks at you as she’s turned away from Cassian, and you give her a look.

Nosey busybody. All because you had told her you fell asleep on Azriel last night. And how he was so kind to help you drop the truck off. And how damningly beautiful he was.

Curse your big mouth.

“You should ask them if they want to come while you’re over there. Cassian’s coming, if they’ll find that enticing.”

Her words mean one thing, but her eyebrow waggling screams, I don’t think Cassian will be the reason one of them comes.

You wander over next door, knocking as you approach their door. Your mind starts wandering while you wait for a response, and you wonder if they used to always meet in Rhys and Az’s apartment.

Your thoughts still when Azriel opens the door, surprise on his face as he looks at you. He’s shirtless, his tan chest on full display, some black shadow-esque tattoos adorning his shoulders. Your eyes trace the design, roving over his muscular chest.

You want to lick them.

You shake the intrusive thought away, and Azriel grins ever so slightly at your blatant ogling of him. You tell him, “Uh Cassian’s knee is acting up and he said he thinks his meds are in your gym bag?”

He opens the door wider, letting you in. “What’d he do to mess up his knee this time?”

You follow him as he leads you into the apartment, your words dying on your tongue, “something about getting too ambitious with a girl - what the fuck?”

Azriel stops to find you staring at their tv, an absolutely massive screen mounted to their wall. It practically takes up most of the wall, and you imagine watching a movie on it would feel life-sized. “And I thought Cassian had the biggest tv I’d ever seen.”

Azriel chuckles, “they got drunk one night and started having a pissing contest over who was bigger, and it escalated to them both buying absurdly large televisions.”

He rolls his eyes at the memory of them drunkenly purchasing tvs online, forgetting about the ordeal until they appeared a few days later, Cassian refusing to use Rhys’s tv for a week in solidarity of his manhood.

You two start moving towards Azriel’s room, worry brewing in your mind over what to do. To follow could be overstepping, to linger could be weird. He leaves his door wide open, looking back to see if you’re following, so you decide to be brave and step through his door.

His room is dark, black out curtains with tiny moons sewn into them adorning his windows. His bed is neatly made, a deep blue comforter laying on top. Your eyes are drawn to the little bat stuffed animal that sits on his pillows.

His room is neat - dirty clothes kept in a hamper in the corner, books neatly stacked on his nightstand and on a bookshelf. He even has paper tray organizers on his desk.

His laptop is open at his desk, the screen still lit with whatever he was doing before you knocked. You see a familiar photo of you and Mor on the screen before it cuts to black, leaving you confused.

You shake the thoughts away, telling him “I like the little bat.”

He stills, looking over at the thing. His face falls a bit, but he quickly corrects it, going back to his search for the bag.

“Thanks, Cass got it for me.��

“That’s sweet,” you tell him.

You breathe deeply, the air in the room shifting, but you’re not really sure why. You don’t want this to be the end of your interaction with him, so you ask, “so Cassian told me you’re a personal trainer?”

He bends over to pick up his gym bag from the floor, your eyes roving down his toned back to the shorts that generously show off his thighs. Maybe you could join their gym if you got to see him like this, tanned thighs and chest on full display.

“Yeah, he helped me get the job, actually. I’ve been working a lot more over the summer, trying to save money for when classes are in session.”

You nod, as he finds the bottle in his bag. “Do you like it?”

He walks back over to you, escorting you out of his room. “S’okay. Cassian’s much better at it than I am, but it’s not hard.”

You nod, wondering how both of them are at their jobs. You can imagine Cassian being loud and rambuctious, a personality trait you can’t see him without. Shouting motivational words as you squat. On the other hand you can see Azriel being calm, quiet, his presence hardly noticeable as you train, offering occasional motivation but knowing what his clients actually need is just someone there.

He reaches his hand out to give you the bottle, and you break your eye contact with him to grab it. His fingers brush over your hand, electricity crackling on your skin from his touch.

You look at his hands, noticing them for the first time. Covered in scars, the skin is scarred over, the texture rough and uneven. His touch is soft and warm, a contrast to the harshness of his hands. You don’t let your eyes linger on his hand for too long, worrying you’re invading his privacy.

You duck your head down, fighting the heat on your cheeks from his touch. If he notices, he doesn’t let on as you pull your hand back with the bottle, uncertain how long your hands had been in contact.

“Thanks I um, Cassian will appreciate this.” You give him a toothless smile, one that he matches. His eyes have a look about them, but you can’t spend too long thinking about it, especially considering Feyre was likely conspiring with Cassian as you two spoke.

“I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing before,” you say, reaching for the doorknob.

“I’ll see you later,” he tells you.

Your hand stills on the knob and you turn to look back at him. “Are you doing anything today? Around 3?”

He shakes his head no, “not really - why?”

“My friend Feyre and I are going to go to this place to try out axe throwing and I was wondering if you wanted to come with?”

His eyes widen in surprise, but you continue before he can reject you.

“Um Cassian’s coming, and Rhys is invited too if he wanted to come. It’s no big deal if you guys don’t want to - Feyre and I probably won’t be any good.”

He watches you tuck your hair behind your ear and he realizes you’re rambling. Despite how cute he finds it, how cute he finds you, he cuts you off. “I’ll come - I’ll text Rhys too.”

You smile broadly at him, a sight he’ll definitely be thinking about until he sees you again, “okay, um yeah I’ll uh see you then? You can come over to our place and we can all leave together.”

You’re about to leave again when you backtrack, “uh, come over at 2:30 so we can leave together. See you then!”

After you’ve left, he listens to your feet pad down the hall, and the door to the apartment next door opening and closing. He looks to the wall that separates your apartments, as if he can see you giving Cassian the medicine.

He trudges back to his room, furling and unfurling his fist, his skin hot from your touch. The image of you looking at his hands printed in his brain. You didn’t look at him in pity, perhaps the first person to do so. You looked at him like he was resilient, like he was more than what happened to him, like he was more than the scars littering his hands.

He lets the thoughts whirl in his brain as he logs back into his laptop, the screen lighting up with your social media pages he had been scrolling through. He tells himself it’s just to see who Cassian is living with and if she can be trusted, if she seems okay. He also decides if she happens to be seeing anyone is also pertinent information.

For Cassian’s safety, of course.

[polakina]

how they act when they're jealous

call of duty headcanons #5

hc masterlist // masterlist

god i love seeing jealousy in men. and i love the 141. so this is a nice happy medium

ALSO im running out of ideas AHH pls send me some. i need to write more

rating: explicit

-

stone-faced expression

teeth gritted

if looks could kill, they'd be dead

you'd all gone out after a long mission to unwind

gaz and soap took the opportunity to try and out drink eachother while simon stayed pretty much to himself

but price had alternative plans for the night

keeping an eye on you

not that you needed the supervision, but when you drank, you liked to wander. he'd been thinking about tying a balloon to your shirt when you all went out to make sure you were still in the building

he was considering it right this second, after he'd lost sight of you for a third time that night

then he caught you, at the bar, most likely ordering another round of drinks. you looked happy, smiling. it was nice for him to see after such a strenuous three weeks you'd all just had

but his eyes turned black when he saw a guy come up next to you, hand reaching for your waist

he'd left his drink with simon, made his way over to you and stood directly behind you as you were turned to the man before this asshole even formulated a hello

you'd felt a presence behind you, knowing it was john and not even turning to see if you were right. but by the look on that guy's face, you probably were

"best just to walk away, eh?" you heard from behind you. it made you smirk as the guy scuttled away like a raccoon in a trash can

turning to see john's stoic expression, his piercing gaze boring into the guy's head until he was out of view

had his hand on you the whole night after that

it felt like a protective grip on your thigh

his jaw was clenched and you felt his eyes on you constantly, but every time you looked at him, his gaze was elsewhere

feels the need to touch every part of you to eradicate any sense of that other guy's hands on you

turns dominant, holding you down, kissing every part of you

"can't believe he thought he had a chance" "fuckin' arsehole thinks he can put his hands on you" "need reminding that you're mine, hmm? is that it?"

you love it when he gets jealous

you're not leaving the bed for hours

he fucks you raw. hard.

your throat is hoarse and your voice is gone by the time he's done

you can barely lift your arms or legs afterwards; they're shaking and sore from his harsh grip on your thighs

his manhandling is rough, but you love it. you submit to it as he pounds into you until the sun peeks through your curtains

graves is who riles him the most on base

especially when he's talking to you

graves has a certain way of annoying ghost but making it seem like an entirely normal conversation to you

just by existing, he gets on ghost's nerves

"you look good in that gear, honey. suits you" was all ghost could hear from the air field

it enraged him completely. everyone saw it. you brushed it off, and saw ghost glaring at the two of you

you smirked, catching his eye. he cocked his head, almost daring you to further this

always quiet when he's jealous

just likes to watch, unless something goes too far. then he steps in

but with this, he wanted until you came to him

you did, an hour later in the armoury. he busied himself cleaning his weapons as you came into the room

you knew that look, the one he gave you

he always gave you that look. whether it was because some man gave you attention, or you flirted for intel undercover, or even if someone looked at you for too long

he didn't speak. he just walked over to you, towering above you while reaching behind your back to lock the door

he liked to make you know that you were his

"letting graves give you all that attention, hmm?" his voice was decibles lower than usual when he was like this. it made your walls clench just hearing it. "that man was looking you up and down like a piece of meat. can't have that, can we?"

liked to hear you cry out his name when he fucked you

can't feel jealous if someone else's name isn't in your mouth, can he?

with each thrust he coaxed you, ordered you to tell him who you belonged to

the table which you sat on rammed into the wall every time his cock pushed deeper and harder into you

his hand on your throat forcing you to look at him, into his eyes, fingerprints bruising into your skin

his hands slapped against your thigh, marking your skin a deep red

never let you cover it up the next day either, you had that shit on show, for all ghost could say

graves steered clear of you after that

as a commanding officer, you trained the rookies

but they were smarmy and smug, often threw comments your way that you learned to brush off without a passing thought

soap had sat in on one of your sessions, watching from under a tent

he watched them whisper about you, watched a few of them gaze at your arse

it made his blood boil

his face could never hide any signs of jealousy. it painted his features like a detailed portrait

they were target shooting, and the few delinquents that couldn't concentrate on anything other than you were poor at their aiming

he liked to prove his worth in situations like this

he took it as a competition, one he knew he could win

you saw him stride over, taking the rifle out of one of the boys hands and taking a stance at the marker

rolling your eyes, you knew this couldn't end well

he'd done this before

a guy tried to flirt with you in a bar once, soap won the fight between them

you were whistled at while driving through the city you lived in, soap smoked him and sped off way ahead of that asshole

he can't back down

he doesn't realise he doesn't need to compete for you. you're already his

soap fires at every target with immediate precision, not even taking a breath between shots

then he tosses the gun back to the rookie with a smug look on his face

"maybe start focusing on the task at hand instead of her, hmm? or else i'll have you off this base before you can blink, boy"

he grinned as he caught your eye, winking before taking his seat back under the shadow of the tent, continuing to watch as though nothing happened

no rookie let their gaze linger on you again after that

he came to visit you at work often when he was home, so he didn't have to stay in the apartment by himself

the little coffee shop was a comforting place for him, the smell of coffee grounds and freshly baked goods always lifting his spirits

you had a co-worker that was always close by your side, but he never thought much of it up till now

you were on your break and made your way over to join him at the table with two coffees in hand

you seemed different, more irked than usual, and your phone wouldn't shut up either, which seemed to piss you off more

it was your co-worker. he learned about the dates he'd asked you on, about whether you wanted to go to his place after work. it'd been happening for weeks, even after you'd said no

gaz said nothing, making his way over to that co-worker

you watched as he leaned over the counter, whispering something to the man that turned his skin pale and his eyes wide

he scurried off to the back room and gaz walked back over to smiling

"what did you say?"

"nothing you haven't already said to him, love"

he pulled your chair closer, kissing the side of your head

he was calm when jealous, to a point where you could barely tell

his jaw never clenched, his gaze never darkened, his body language remained the exact same

but he was always observant, never let anything go too far

but his body language always changed, more tense, more aggravated whenever you became uncomfortable in any situation

he was always by your side in seconds, but never starting a confrontation, just removing you from the scene without causing a fight

like i said, not a man of confrontation