#this one was meant to be longer whether alone or with another part but i liked this ending better

[m1d-45]

small miracles

summary: washed up on the sands of ritou, inazuma’s famous helper lends you a hand.

word count: ~2k

-> warnings: n/a, just standard imposter au things. you are on the run, technically. very minor gore i guess(like veeeery tiny)

-> lowercase intended!

< masterlist > || second part >>

dirt collapses beneath your feet, your torn shoes skidding on the edge of the cliff north of liyue harbor. you can hear the waves lap at the rock thousands of feet below you, layered under the huffs of the people in front of you.

steel blades shine in the hot sun, the millelith wielding them just as fierce. you can see the hatred in their eyes, the need for your end, whether by the spears in their hand or the waters behind you. the only reason they haven’t struck is because of the woman behind the ring of them.

a dark oak pipe balances on the tip of ningguang’s finger, her eyes as sharp as their ruby hue. she lets it tip to one side, her head following the tilt, before she spins it back into her palm. every action is defined with grace, not so much as a hair out of place. every golden ornament shows off her prestige, her power, how without even lifting a finger she has you pinned in place against a cliff.

perhaps if you weren’t at risk of dying, you might feel different about it.

one of the millelith asks if they’re allowed to strike. the red tassel on her forehead swings as she shakes her head.

“no. this fake is not worth liyuen metal.” ningguang tucks the pipe away in a smooth motion, crossing one arm over her chest to rest the opposite elbow on it. a clawed finger swipes an invisible hair back into place on her bangs. “send them to the sea. their bones will serve as an excellent toothpick for osial.“

well, that was a horrific visual.

in an instant, the millelith spin their spears around, careful to keep the blades away from themselves and each other to jab to dull ends at you. behind them, ningguang barely looks fazed, examining a geo crystal in her hand. you know the nonchalance is manufactured, a subdued silence, but that doesn’t make it any better. she doesn’t care that she’s sending you to your death. she knows it, wants it, and what would the millelith be if they couldn’t remove one person from the tianquan’s presence?

your left foot is standing half on air. the part that is on ground is shaky, uncertain, dirt nowhere near as stable as stone.

you risk a look at ningguang.

ruby eyes are the last thing you see before you fall.

you wake up on a beach, sandy and exhausted. invisible wounds bleed harder as sand gets into them as you sit up to look around. your clothes are hard with saltwater, and it’s a miracle you made it here alive. though teyvat has been kind, fruit and clean water always within reach, you didn’t think that you would live long enough to hit land.

you stand—nearly falling—and shake out as much sand as you can, looking around. across the sea is a small island, within swimming range, but youre not inclined to explore when your limbs still feel so heavy. to your right, the beach narrows off, overtaken by the cliff behind you, but it seems to open up more to the left.

you decide to stumble that way, passing a spike of driftwood, and stop just as quickly.

you can see green roofs of houses, spires and what is maybe a watchtower in the distance, the architecture familiar. red and orange trees are interspersed between them, and your hopes fall.

you’d hoped you were in the stone forest. you’d hoped that you’d have a chance, knowing the abundance of hilichurls on the small islands, but now you’re…

you start walking, hoping to find some clues to prove your hunch wrong.

you see an okay looking boat, but youre preoccupied by the path branching to the left. wooden boards seem to make a walkway, and you step over them on your way inside. theres a small tent, a lantern, a block of supplies and a cooking pot. in the tent is a bed fashioned of hay, but embers light up the wood beneath the pot.

it would be a cozy enough place to stay, but you can’t risk whoever owns it coming back.

you head back the way you came and continue towards the city. the sand slides beneath your ragged shoes, but theres flowers following the breeze in the grass near the cliff. purple and a soft blue, they distract you long enough that a guard walks to their post further down the beach.

oh.

oh no.

you recognize the uniform, and the logo of the tenryou commission embossed on the armor. if inazuma is the same as any other nation—likely worse, considering the way its run—you need to avoid those guards at any cost.

you look to the cliffside. its steep, too steep to climb when youre still soaked from the sea.

you sigh, and decide to find another way up.

youre not quite sure how none of the guards saw you, but under the dwindling light of dusk, you manage to make to the southern(?) outskirts of what appears to be ritou.

…not that that means anything. you still don’t know how to get off the island, and trying to forcibly get deported will only result in an arrest. though there’s a food cart that most certainly can see you, the worker didn’t report you to the guards when they passed. you don’t remember her name, but know she sells some kind of food. maybe a fish dish? or was it egg? not that it matters, food is food, and if you’re lucky you’ll have enough mora for some.

you sit against a wall, checking your pockets. most of your stuff was either stolen or lost to sea, but your mora was still securely tied to your waist. after checking twice that you were out of people’s line of sight, you started to count, stacking the coins in piles of 10 on the grass in front of you. after a hundred, you moved them into one bigger pile.

you had more than you expected. though your pouch always seemed to weigh about the same, you didn’t think you could fit almost three thousand mora inside- or that you even had that. then again, chests typically had a few hundred, and you’d been pretty lucky in mondstat…

you set aside five hundred and hope it’s enough, but knowing teyvat’s economy… if salt was 60 mora, who knew how much you’d need?

whatever the case, you needed to eat. cradling the coins against you as you attach your pouch back at your waist, the go to move for the food stall.

your plans are dashed the second you stand.

a familiar face walked up the path towards the food stall, but quickly diverted towards you.

shit.

you step away, behind a tree, hoping against hope that he’d only seen somebody next to you instead of-

“hello there!”

you jump at how quickly thomas voice appeared at your side, taking another step back.

shit. that’s definitely him. weird horn headpiece, blonde hair, too-short jacket, dog tags and all.

you lick at your lips. they taste of salt. “hi?”

you hate how shattered your voice is. how quiet and rough it’s gotten.

“hey! i’m thoma.” he extends a hand, the small ribbon on the back of his glove rippling in the soft breeze. “it’s nice to meet you!”

you hesitate. it feels like you do a lot of that lately.

you remember him being affiliated with the kamisatos, which means he’s almost certainly heard of everything you’ve been accused of. but… there’s no way he would come up to you so casually if that was the case, right?

you want to trust him. you do. but there hasn’t been anybody else yet that you could.

carefully, you meet his hand with your own weak grip. the cloth on his gloves is leather, unsurprisingly, and though it is cold with the dusk chill, his fingers are warm. you have a feeling it’s from his vision, and your mind flickers to the last time you slept by a fire.

it’s been months.

“oh, you’re freezing! what are you doing outside?” his voice jumps a few octaves and his hand tightens around yours. “oh jeez, you’re going to catch a cold if you’re not careful. what are you doing without a coat in the middle of winter?“

is it winter? you don’t really remember the last time you knew the date for certain, but if that was true, then it was bad news. the clothes you wore you got from hilichurls and abyss mages, but the main enemies in inazuma were nobushi…

your worry must show on your face, because thoma’s frown deepens.

“now that i look at you… you’re not from inazuma, are you?”

you shake your head no.

“oh no… did you get caught up in the outlander affairs agency? they haven’t gotten any better after the decree, have they….”

“no, i-“ you cut yourself off with a coughing fit, tasting a bitter mixture of salt, blood, and bile climb up your throat. it’s disgusting, and alarmingly salty. you must have drank more ocean water than you meant to; it’s a wonder you didn’t choke on the trip over.

(how did you make it over? the distance from liyue to inazuma was too large for you to have simply floated, surely? but didn’t thoma himself float over?)

thoma’s other hand lands between your shoulder blades, patting lightly. “hey, it’s okay. it’s good you haven’t ran into the agency, but that cough doesn’t sound good at all…”

you adjust the tattered mask on your face, straightening and doing your best to look like you haven’t been on the run. “i’ll be fine.”

your chest tightens with the need to cough, but you set your jaw. you can’t afford to get involved with the yashiro commission. you’re certain the mora clutched in your grip is enough to buy you a decent meal and—alongside the rest of it—some kind of warm herbal tea.

gentle green eyes catch the money in your palm and widen. you can see the gears clicking inside his head, and he speaks before you can.

“is that all the mora you have?”

“i-“

“and you don’t even have a- ah, i can’t leave you out here like this. could you come with me to the teahouse? there’s a waypoint just inside ritou, and i’d feel a lot better if i could get you some tea and clean clothes. it won’t be the fanciest, but i know there’s some spare sets and anything would be better than risking an illness. inazuman winters aren’t kind, and the shogun hasn’t been in the best mood as of late.”

the pros and cons weigh in your head. you could go with somebody you know is kind, and get what is certainly good food and hot drinks with clean clothes to boot. or, you could risk walking into a trap with, arguably, one of the most influential people in the yashiro commission at least, if not all of inazuma. it’ll either be the best choice you’ll ever make, or one that’ll land you in front of tenshukaku in chains.

thoma picks up on your hesitation, taking his hand off your shoulder and giving you space, though he keeps your hands linked. “can i at least bring you some dinner, then, if you don’t want to come with me? or a blanket? or- or something?“

he’s awfully worried for somebody he just met. you’re not sure if his determination is evidence of his benevolent nature, or if he’s trying to make you trust him as he calls over some shogunate soldiers.

…you also can’t decide if it’s your desperation for connection with somebody you can rely on or your need for a better environment that makes you agree.

maybe his bright smile has something to do with it. or the comforting warmth in his hands as he leads you away? maybe it’s the way he holds you tightly against him after you ask to go to the teahouse and are nearly sick coming out of the teleporter.

or maybe, by chance, it’s the light in his eyes when you say ‘thank you’.

[heartfullofleeches]

Distribute the weight

Yan Vampire + Tall/Werewolf Reader

Your adoring spouse keeps you on their arm at all times - not matter what others say.

[slightly suggestive]

"Aw, poor Pup broke their paw?~... Don't worry, I'll take care of you. I'm all alone too..."

Irony riddles your scar. Slim, horizontal lines riming the ball of your ankle. A silver bear trap - buried under leaves and twigs, and the cruz pivoting your life on its head. The trap had been set in a part of the forest you had never crossed before, burrowed away on the hunting grounds of a terror fiercer than the hunter after your head. Hell, maybe the bastard set it in that exact location at that exact time in hopes of killing two birds with one stone. In a turn of events shocking you both, the vampire who found you took you into their arms and home: dispatching the hunter stalking you as you recovered in their bed. Loneliness is what saved you that evening - as if you really believed that.

Truth be told, your caretaker was only nursing you back to health to have a fresh supply of blood for guests, but just like the hunter their plans changed the longer you were by their side. Your leg had been completely shattered - amputation likely if they hadn't arrived when they did. Weight too much for one leg to carry; you depended on them to get you from place to place while you healed. From an outside perspective it was like a lion asking aid of their own prey, but their stature was no factor to their strength.

Close to your midsection in height and, your caretaker was able to pick you up in one arm with ease. You were like an oversized stuffed animal they won an the fair and served a similar duty in their bed. They thought about skinning you and using your coat instead, but your warmth came from somewhere deeper than your fur. A confession your third week in and you became lovers. Devoted to you as they were towards their original cause, your spouse would do anything for you.

"Please put me down now..."

Except for that.

You see, old habits die hard when they lead to finding your true love. Years after your leg had healed and your spouse still carried you on their arm wherever they may go. Whether a stoll through the garden or in conversation with another, you were nowhere to be found but in their hold. An extension of themselves they could not part from - you gave up bringing them to reason long ago. The issue still remaining was when you were in the presence of others. The size of the crowd or importance of the person did not matter. In their arms is where you where meant to be and where you reside for as long as they function.

Huddled on a couch in the center of the venue, your spouse is beckoned into conversation by another across the room. An annual meet in their court which you had attended before, but this face was new. Passing their drink off to you and hooking an arm beneath your thighs, your spouse begins to rise when you stop them with a single hand to their chest.

"Maybe I should sit this one out. I'm not sure about that look in their eye..."

Your spouse looks taken aback as if you've just made I'll of their entire bloodline. "Nonsense! Who knows how long this cretin wishes to converse with me? I maybe be able to weasel my way out eventually, but I'm certain to die before then if you are not at my reach. Come now, we mustn't keep our new friend waiting."

Your spouse pats the meat of your thigh, shoving their glass into your hand as they adjust you upon their shoulder as they stand. Your unoccupied arm instinctively shoots around their neck for support as they lock your legs beneath their bicep. You can see upon the second floor from the boost - all those watching and whispering from the shadows. Balancing you on one arm, they traverse the yard; experience in their skill appointed by the point of their heels sharper than the snap of their fangs. Spine straightened and head held high, they join the stranger in the far corner of the room with polite greeting. You focus more on keeping their cup from spilling and staining your fur - again.

Rocking on their heels, your spouse bows their head to the other vamp - hands clearly to preoccupied for a handshake. "Good evening. I trust all is well on your part?"

"Evening...." Their eyes drift towards you, darting back to your spouse as you fume from the concentration. Your spouse rubs your knee, whispering something about knowing just how to get the blood out. "I'm fairing well... why do you ask?"

"I just happened to notice you staring down my mate all night and was curious since you seem to be making them uncomfortable..." Their smile falters, annoyance punctuated by the huff they make as they look up at you. "Ugh, these lights are damn near as bright as day. Darling, could you be a dear a give me a drink?"

Reaching to their jaw, you rest the rim of the glass against their plump lips as their head falls back - flow regulated by the claws at their throat. With their hands at your sides it was not uncommon for you to feed them food and drink, a pleasure your spouse abused plenty.

"Maybe you should keep your mutt at home if I'm bothering them."

Blood plenishes the glass as your spouse chokes on their spit. You ease the glass from their lips as they lower you to the floor, wiping the dribbles of red with the curve of their claws protruding from the cloth of their gloves. Tongue rolling over their fangs, but they bark a laugh as their eyes squint.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you properly."

The other vampire steps forward, sizing them up. Even amongst their own kin, your spouse was smaller than norm. "You really don't know what the others say about you - do you? Carrying around that mutt at all hours like you own the place - it's disrespectful."

"Mm.... Darling, could you hand me that glass, please?" Passing it off, your spouse mouths a thank you as they take it from you and stands between you and your aggressor. Swirling the dark liquid around the edge, they down the drink in one good - pausing briefly to savor the taste before smashing the glass on the floor. As shard disburse at their feet, your spouse checks their nails seeing as this bother wasn't worth their time as they expect.

"Kneel."

A snarl emits from the vampire throat as their hands aim for your spouse's collar. "You may have been here first, but that gives you no reason to order me around."

Your spouse chuckles through the strain around their neck. "My friend, I don't think you understand. See, when my love and I became one, we received a little gift from the little hunter aiming to take us both as prize. A fool that one, but power seems common in the hands of idiots nowadays."

Gaze falling to their chest; if their blood grew any colder it would still in their chest. Pointed at their heart, betwixt the thin layer of skin encasing their ribs - a dagger aims for the kill from the sleeve of your spouse's robes. A lazy, toothy grin meets their face as terror marks their opponent's.

"You wouldn't..."

"Oh, but I would." Twisting the handle, their voice drops as first blood falls. "You wouldn't be the first."

The frightened party looks towards you for mercy. You avoid their silent plea, eyes on your partner alone. Couldn't stop them even if you wanted. Defeated, the vampire drops to one knee, wincing as the broken glass embeds into their knee. Your spouse jabs at their side to get them down on the other, slashing their abdomen in accident they don't seem to care much for. Torment and pain unbound, the worse of it comes with their next order.

"Lick up what's left if you value your tongue."

Their panic is thee most delicious thing your spouse has drank up all night. They look beyond you for help, but they're all but ignored and those who pay mine only snicker or shake their head out of pity. The threat of a foot to the back of their skull gets them moving along just fine. By the time their tongue sweeps the first heap of glass your spouse had already lost interest - concern overtaken their glee as you glance off to nowhere.

"Dearest, what troubles you?"

"They're right, you know?... My leg has been healed for years and I don't need you to carry me around anymore. I'm too big for it anyway.."

"That so?... Forgive me for being selfish, but it isn't all about you anymore, my love. You do have a point with one thing, though."

"What?"

Taking your hand, your spouse pushes you against the wall. Never has the venue's drap wallpaper looked more investing than when wrapped against your fur as they pin you in place. Guiding your legs up and around their torso, they center majority of your weight on their pelvis as their head falls to your sternum and their hands to your waist.

"There's too much of you for these feeble arms of mine to hold. I need a better way to distribute the weight or else I may not be able to carry you as you deserve. At my hip is a far better place for you. Makes sense, considering you're always in my lap when we're at home." Your spouse readjusts their hold on you as one of your legs slides down their back, hips ground against your loins as they lock their hand beneath the seat of your rear. Your thighs cage them like two trunks of wood supported by a twig. One squeeze and you could easily snap their spine just as easy and maybe that's what brought such a vibrant flutter to their heart as their cheek pads your chest. Pulling you down a bit further, they nip at your collarbone as their hands rake up the shorts you wore. In the corner of the room guised by the bustling chatter and music around you, none are the wiser as your clothing dips off your hip - your spouse's robes hiding the slip of their hand between your legs.

"Looks like there are more benefits to this position than I thought. I do believe I can stand here all night with you, my love... If you can keep quiet."

[tobifuyu]

I just want a baby with the right one

RAN HAITANI x f!reader

cw: domestic and tooth-rotting fluff, ran being a sappy dad, talks of pregnancy and marriage.

wc: 1,5k

a/n: this is the first part of a longer oneshot with more angst and (ofc) smut that I’m gonna post soon enough. enjoy the short fluff for the time being. I –technically– don’t like kids but I get such baby fever when I see happy families so this is me wishing I could have a partner as perfect as ran!

Stepping foot into a silent home usually meant Ran was asleep somewhere.

After removing your shoes and dropping your bag on the kitchen island, your hunch was confirmed to be right when you found his big body sprawled on your shared bed.

The image is nothing out of the ordinary for you, your sleepy husband can’t go much without his needed rest, especially without you around to keep him company.

Whether now, or five years prior, everything would still look the same: messy purple hair sparse against the white bedding, rosy lips parted as he takes deep breaths, and tattooed chest going up and down as he does.

There is only one stark difference, something that makes your lips curl in a soft smile as you take in the scene.

His arms are bent, creating a makeshift safety harness for the little body that is resting in the middle of his naked chest.

As you carefully and silently approach the bed, you start glimpsing the little face of the angel that your husband is embracing.

Her rosy cheeks resemble that of her father, and you fight the urge to grace them with a kiss in fear of waking her up.

For a moment, you think back to the phone in your purse and curse yourself for not taking it out sooner, wanting to take a picture of the sweet moment, but in the end deciding against going all the way to the kitchen just to come back to either of them having moved.

Ran blinks at you as the mattress dips under your weight. You gather he was just resting his eyes, clever and responsible enough not to fall asleep while holding his newborn daughter.

He raises one finger to his lips to gesture at you to remain silent, but you can’t contain your giggle as you’re filled with a bubbling sense of joy. Part of it is to be blamed on the few drinks you had catching up with your friends, but mostly it has grown inside of you while watching Ran gently rub your daughter’s back.

He rolls his eyes but can’t hide a grin at your behavior, and you bend down to kiss it away with a quick but sweet peck, “Thank you for looking after her.”

“You don’t have to thank me for being with my daughter. I’m her dad y’know?”

“‘course I know, baby. I was there when we made her,” another giggle, Ran has to fight the urge to shut you up with loads of kisses, but you both know he can’t move too much in this position.

So you lay by his side, head resting on his shoulder as you cast your glance towards the sleeping baby.

You can feel your heart clenching, every moment you’re not by her side is like torture. You enjoyed going out alone for once, but you missed the two of them like crazy and spent the whole night pestering your friends about it.

“Can’t believe she’s turning one month old tomorrow,” you whisper, hand raised to gently stroke at her scrunched-up forehead.

“Time goes by so fast,” the breath Ran takes fills his lungs so much you see your little one raising up and down.

“It’s okay, baby, one month is not the end of the world.” You’re trying to rationalize it for the sake of both of you, but you know how emotional your husband gets with these types of things.

The passing of time has never been something he particularly enjoys, not only dreading his getting older but also his brother’s. You recall watching him mop around the day before every single one of Rindou’s birthdays (he raised the boy, after all). So you already knew things would only get worse when it came to his own kid.

“Next thing you know she’s gonna turn twenty and walk out of the house with a partner who probably has one of those dumb jobs like influencers.”

“Hate the game, not the player. You’re a club owner, you literally make money off of ‘em.” You bop his nose with the tip of your finger and his neck muscles strain as he raises his head from the pillow while trying to bite at it.

“That’s why I’m saying it’s stupid,” he pouts. You swear, he’s become such a dad.

But you remember how scared he was when you first found out you were pregnant. You both were.

You didn’t plan for kids. Yeah, Ran had always dreamed of building a family of his own, but he had agreed with you that if you never felt ready, it would be okay.

The two of you were a family already, with Rindou popping by from time to time, and plans of getting a dog if you ever felt like shaking things up.

You were doing okay. Then it happened.

Both of you had always been so careful, so you reasoned that it was just meant to be.

Ran was scared of becoming a dad. He spent his early life taking care of Rindou, and he was fulfilled enough to just enjoy his adult years being with his wife. Traveling, clubbing, lazing in bed. The two of you only cared for one another and it was more than he thought he would ever get in life.

Ran’s pure excitement took over his fear pretty quickly, but he held it in for some time because he could tell how much more shaken up you were by the news.

You were not ready to become a mother, you didn’t think you had it in you. You could barely take care of yourself, how would you help in raising a baby? And it’s not like you could leave the job to Ran, he already had to deal with it alone once, you wouldn’t do such a thing to him again.

It took you some days to make your decision and come to peace with it, days where you closed up to Ran and laid alone in bed, thinking about how your body would change, how much pain you would have to endure, all the sacrifices and scary aspects of pregnancy and ultimately raising a human life.

Ran had come back from work one day and found you in the kitchen baking a cake, or rather trying to. Your cheeks were dusted with flour, and you were dipping a finger in the bowl filled with custard.

“Taste test?” He had asked with a raised brow while removing his coat and shoes at the door.

“Mh, I think our baby likes this one.”

“Do they now? Are you already blaming them for your cravings?” With lips curved in a smile, he had approached you slowly, holding out his arms as you sank into them, head resting on his jacket-covered shoulder.

“I was trying to bake a cake to celebrate our pregnancy. ‘m sorry it took me so long, Ran. I want this baby with you.”

Ran had held you a little tighter at that, softly stroking down the length of your hair while whispering reassuring promises in your ears, tears now wetting both of your faces.

“It’s gonna be okay, my love. As long as we’re together, everything is gonna be alright.”

“As long as we’re with her, everything is gonna be alright.” You repeat his words from then, staring up at his lilac eyes from under your lashes.

He’s already gazing down at you with a look that you know well by now, one that is filled with love and longing. No matter how close you are, Ran always seems to want you even closer.

“I love you, my sweet girl. I love both of you so much. I’m never leaving you, I promise.” He slithers one of his hands under your body, holding the back of your shoulder to keep you pressed against his side, all while softly caressing the skin, copying the movement he was drawing on the smaller back of your sleepy daughter, “Swear on my life.”

A short kiss is left on his collarbone by your lips before you bend down to sweetly press them on top of your daughter’s small head of light hair.

“Now tell me you love us too!” Ran whines and presses the side of his face against yours, squishing your cheeks together as little giggles shake both of your bodies. All the attempts at silencing him are worthless, and you’re forced to give in to his pleading as he starts tickling your side.

“Ran, I love you, baby! And I love our babygirl. I promise, you guys are my whole life.”

All that commotion must’ve finally woken up the tiny girl because the silent room is now filled with laughter and the cries of a baby that would’ve once annoyed you, but now sound like music to your ears.

In that moment you realize that your words aren’t just mindless and sweet-coated, a life without either one of them truly wouldn’t be worth living. And you decide to not give up your family for anything in the world.

[melminli]

A Pretty Boy Is Still A Boy II

pairing: young coriolanus snow x fem. reader

summery - it was time for coriolanus to admit to himself that he wanted you for himself, because he too was a slave to his own needs.

word count: 2k+

contains: slight misogyny/slutshaming, mention of masturbation, suggestive themes, simp/sassy coriolanus who is down bad, enemies to lovers vibes, jealousy, toxic masculinity

inspo for this

part I

Coriolanus never thought of himself as someone pathetic. Of course, he had enough situations he found himself in that made him seem like he was, such as his slightly insane grandma, the rats that were lurking inside their apartment, or the times when his stomach growled too loudly at the wrong moments and his own body decided to betray him.

It was things that were out of his control that made him miserable and he was fully aware of that, which is why he did everything in his power to get the control he lost with the death of his parents back into his own hands, where it belonged. It was his right as a member of the Snow family.

However, his body betrayed him in more than one way, and this time, it took more than just a dainty dish to satisfy his hunger. He hasn't been able to admit it to himself yet, but he's getting to the point where he can no longer deny it. Whose fault was it this time that made him seem so pathetic for being horny almost every day? That he couldn't stop thinking about dirty things while doing dirty things - so much so that he was even more sensitive than usual because he couldn't stop jerking off for god's sake.

This is so embarrassing, I want to die. He thought to himself every time after he finished, leaning back on his bed with his free arm covering his vision. Maybe this was his karma for all the times he judged random guys for being stupid horny teenage boys, because as it turned out, he wasn't one bit better than them. Eating cabbage every day didn't kill me, but this certainly will. I can live with a rotten stomach but not without my pride, that's for sure.

Maybe Coriolanus can still fall back on not being pathetic if he would simply make you his scapegoat. Of course, it was your fault. You were the one who started this all in the first place. You with your funny sparkling eyes, your stupid seductive grin, and...

He rolled over onto his stomach and screamed into his pillow in frustration. This can't be happening to me, I can't just be like those fucking pigs! Why are you doing this to me!

He didn't know whether he meant you or himself by the latter. He only knew one thing, and that was that he couldn't take this anymore. It had to stop. He straightened up and took a deep breath to collect himself before looking down at his pants. He was still hard, and he didn't have the privilege of simply taking a cold shower in situations like this if he didn't want to pay the water bill at the end of the month.

"Just one last time..." He whispered to himself and reached into his pants, since he always seemed to forget how long he would hate himself afterward when he thought of the pleasure waiting for him, as short-lived as it may be in comparison.

"I mean, I just can't believe he said that. To be honest, I just want him to leave me alone, you know what I mean?" Sejanus said, having barely touched his food since he was too busy telling his best friend about his worries.

Coriolanus just hummed as he ate his food in silence, listening with only half an ear. He would have preferred to not listen at all, but he didn't want Sejanus to start telling the story all over again by misinterpreting his lack of interest as him not understanding what he was talking about. You're living the life, man. I really don't understand what you're complaining about. And what if your father wished you were a little less whiny? It would do you more good than harm, to be honest. "He should be more considerate of your feelings." said Coriolanus monotonously, taking another bite out of his potatoes, only for it to stick in his throat when he saw your figure approach their table as he happened to look around the area.

You sat down across from the two of them and placed your tray on the table while your signature grin adorned your face. "Hello, boys. I hope you don't mind if I join you today."

Actually, I do. I do mind. but you didn't really seem to be asking for an answer since you'd already made yourself comfortable anyway. Why do you even ask if you're going to do what you want anyway. Coriolanus just kept looking at his food as he listened to the conversation between you and Sejanus. At least I get something out of it.

"Of course not. You're always welcome here." Sejanus assured you with a nice smile. "Still, I hope you're not here because you fell out with the other girls or something?"

You shook your head. "No, everything is the same as always. Besides, I spend so little time with you guys. I thought I'd change that." You said and picked up your cutlery. "And well, Claudia's getting on my nerves a bit. Did you know that she has a crush on Mr. Augustus? He's such an ugly old man, I really don't know how it could have come to this." You said a little disturbed and didn't mention that she had severe father problems.

Both boys grimaced at what you said, one more than the other. Augustus was known for smelling like bacon, and he also had more than one gray hair on his head. On top of that, he always wore funny shoes that made his feet look weirdly long. "I really don't want to judge anyone, but that's really kind of weird. like Mrs. Nerva is right there. Why are you looking at old Augustus?" He asked, mentioning the pretty physics teacher.

You nodded vigorously. "That's exactly what I said too, but yeah, I don't want to elaborate on that." You tried to change the subject. "You've let your hair grow out quite a bit, haven't you, Sejanus? I didn't know you had such cute curls. They totally suit you. I love it." You gave him the compliment.

Coriolanus looked up for the first time, to the right, where he saw Sejanus smiling a little shyly from ear to ear. He couldn't help but bite the inside of his cheek in annoyance. I have curls, too. He thought somewhat bitterly but was too self-confident in his appearance to think that you preferred Sejanus over him. And they suit me way better than him.

"No, they make you look cute. Don't worry about it." You assured the Sejanus after he said that he was worried that his slightly longer hair might make him look a little unkempt. "More than usual, actually."

He couldn't believe it. Were you just flirting with that stupid district boy while he was sitting right in front of you? You've got to be joking. And what was even worse than that was that Sejanus was eating your words out of your hand like a tranated dog. Calm down. She's just calling you cute. Girls pay the same compliment to a handbag. If anything, she doesn't see you as a man. I mean, cute? Come on.

You never called him any endearing names other than that stupid Snowy and it wasn't like he minded or anything - he didn't care - but you always seemed to do it to everyone else and never him, which is just unfair. Doesn't matter. Didn't want some whore flirting with me anyway.

"Is something wrong, Snowy? You're so quiet." He finally heard your voice say and only now realized that Sejanus had left. You noticed his slight confusion. "Oh, he had to leave already. He said he didn't want to be late for his literature class. You don't have any classes now, do you?"

He couldn't look you in the eye. "No, I don't."

You smiled. "Me too. If you don't mind, maybe we could - "

" - do you not find me attractive?" Coriolanus interrupted you, finding his own statement very uncharacteristic of him. He shouldn't care, but he just had to know. He wanted an answer so he would stop thinking about a reason - thinking about you.

His sudden statement had thrown you off a bit. It took you a second, but the look in his eyes told you that he was completely serious. That's a bit unexpected, but I'm not complaining. "Well, of course I find you attractive. Isn't that obvious? Kids are annoying, Festus is into Aurora and has no chance, trust me I know and Coriolanus is..." You searched for the right words. "...a pretty boy."

He raised an eyebrow. He didn't have the information he wanted yet. "So?" He asked, trying not to think about how you said his name. Now, he felt like it was rather counterproductive to even bring this whole thing up in the first place.

Your eyes looked a little confused around the area. "So what?" You asked him and saw in his face an answer like, don't make me say it out loud, which led you to only be able to speculate about it. He seems a little insecure, and it seems like it has something to do with me, so.... "Why am I not trying to get into your pants?" You tried to read his mind.

He abruptly leaned in front of you. That wouldn't exactly have been his choice of words. "Don't say it so loudly." He whispered somewhat aggressively. There weren't that many people in the canteen anymore, but better safe than sorry. "...but I mean, yeah."

You just laughed, very amused. "Well, I'm not going to confirm or deny that I usually do this sort of thing, even if you think you've totally figured me out." You started and grinned. "And what? Do you want me to do it?"

Well, now he felt kinda very exposed, and you even teased him a little further when he didn't answer you directly. "I mean, to get into your - "

He interrupted you before you could repeat it again. "I know what you meant! And no of course I don't!" He exclaimed in a loud whisper, aware of how emotional he sounded. "What I'm saying is, no. I was just curious since you seem to be flirting with everything that breathes." He accused you. Just not with me.

Your mouth formed an O when you finally understood what he was getting at. He felt excluded. "So that's what this is about. Well, I don't know, I suppose you're just too pretty for me to just hit on you like everyone else." You said very obviously flirting with him right now. "Aren't you too good for that? The way I would flirt with you would be to take you out to dinner and then run my fingers through your pretty hair. Something more special."

So, she does like my curls. Knew it. The way you put it sounded just right, but he couldn't help but feel that it sounded a bit like... "I'm not a petite girl." He said offended. Somehow, your answer confused him even more than before, as he assumed it was just lust that attracted him to you. Stop thinking about going on a date with her. Are you out of your mind?

"So you wouldn't like it? That's too bad." You said, a little disappointed. You were really glad that Claudia was getting on your nerves today. Otherwise, you would never have found out how much fun it is to talk to Snowy. You had a little inkling that he wasn't quite as stoic as he always presented himself, but you didn't suspect that your behavior would be his downfall. You shouldn't have neglected him like that, but you were happy that you did.

Coriolanus wanted to deny it. He didn't want to admit it under any circumstances, but that would mean that he had to carry on as before. You seem to be attracted to him, too, and the fact that he knew that made it clear that he would not stop imagining what could be. Unless he confessed, of course. "I never said that." He replied.

"I'm happy to hear that." You said grinning brightly. "I take it you're free this weekend?" You asked him, aware that he would cancel everything else for you. You could see it in his eyes - he was yearning.

"I am." He replied, ready to plunge into new waters. Maybe that could satisfy his longing and everything could go back to normal like it was before. Where no single person had this much influence over him as you did now.

He tried telling himself that he wasn't like other men who wanted the whole cake, after one bite. Though, deep inside he knew that he was indeed just that. You already proved that to him.

[eclec-tech]

"Different"

Another season three ficlet, this one about the possible meeting of Phee and a recently recovered Tech...

When Phee got the news, her first impulse was to scream. Whether from happiness or despair, she wasn’t entirely sure. Probably both. Tech was alive! But he was different. What had Echo meant when he said “different”? She wished she had thought to ask. The only other words she seemed to hear were “meet us” and “we’re sending you coordinates”. Only after the blue light of the hologram faded did her ability to think return enough to wonder what “different” could possibly mean.

That question, and the dozens of others her mind tortured her with on the way to the rendezvous, made the following hours in hyperspace the longest she had ever experienced.

When Phee touched down at the rendezvous point, she leapt from the ramp before it had even fully lowered, but stopped just as quickly when she saw only the clones she already knew were alive.

“Where is he?” she asked no one in particular, scanning the area behind them to see if he was inspecting some part of the hull or standing behind Wrecker on his datapad.

A figure in strange, dark armor suddenly appeared at the top of the ramp, and Phee’s eyes went wide. The man descended with a complete lack of urgency and stopped at the bottom. He stood motionless as the soulless, polarized lenses of his helmet stared directly at her.

She walked slowly forward as if someone else were controlling her legs. Every step closer to this man increased her fear. She knew it was Tech. He was the last thing her newly found family would ever joke about. But something was very off.

He remained completely motionless even as she stopped directly in front of him.

“When I said not to go running off with any pirates or smugglers, I didn’t think I had to include, ‘Don’t join the Empire.’”

The man before her said nothing.

Hunter and Wrecker exchanged a look. “He might need some time,” Hunter said softly. “He’s been through some things.”

“We all have,” Phee whispered in response. “Would you all mind giving us a minute?”

Crosshair opened his mouth to object, but Omega’s hand around his wrist all but dragging him back onto their ship kept him silent. The others followed, leaving Phee and Tech alone.

She stared into the helmet. “C-Can we take this off? I need to know it’s you.”

“No.”

Phee gasped. “No to the helmet, or no, you’re not Tech?”

“The helmet,” the modulated voice answered slowly. “You require a briefing. I am…not ready.”

“Okay.” Phee’s lip began to quiver. “How about we go join the others, and they can fill me in?” Tech nodded but did not move even as Phee stepped past him.

“I…did as you instructed,” he said quietly before she got halfway up the ramp. She turned and walked back down. “I have known no pirates or smugglers in our time apart.”

Phee smiled and lifted her hand to gently stroke the side of the no longer intimidating helmet. “Glad to hear it, Brown Eyes.”

[raineandsky]

#110

tw: implied violence

For the first three seconds, the villain is absolutely certain the hero is dead.

He’s just returning from a dart across the city and isn't even 100 metres from the little front door when he spots the hero. Who on god’s green earth has left a hero on the floor, out in the open? The villains are meant to be trained better than this. They’re practically begging for attention, and on their literal doorstep. Someone’s getting a good talking to about this.

The villain approaches tentatively, leaning down to hold a hand in front of the hero’s mouth. Okay, so they’re alive. He’s not sure if that makes the situation better or worse.

He pushes the hero over slightly to try and see what on earth got them here—and whether the villain needs to worry about any split-second, lifesaving decisions—and earn an incoherent groan in response. He almost drops the hero in surprise; alive, clearly, and somewhat conscious.

“[Hero]?” The villain can’t say why that’s his first port of call. The hero’s barely awake, let alone in any state to reply. He carefully brushes the hero’s hair out of their face; he’s not sure why. “I’m gonna try to get you inside, alright?”

Another halfhearted noise. The villain punches the code into the door, shoves it open, and, as gently as no strength and an ingrained sense of apathy will allow, drags the hero into the bright white of the villains’ hideout.

No one’s around, thankfully; he’s not about to take the flak for someone else’s mistake. He dumps the hero on the floor half-gently, abandoning them there momentarily to grab a first aid kit. Villains come back in pieces more often than not—they’ve learnt to keep ways to fix themselves within arm’s reach.

The villain hurries back, kit in his arms, dropping it and himself to the ground without a care next to the hero. He’s opened the bag and shoved his hand into it before he realises he didn’t hear the door shut behind them.

His gaze snaps up to the doorway. A figure is stood there, her foot holding the door open, her eyes roaming curiously. “Hm,” she says brightly, “nice little hideout you have here.”

The villain’s on his feet immediately. He has to be—it’s not like he can deal with the hero with a stranger wandering about. “Who the hell are you?”

The stranger’s gaze finally falls on him, part intrigued, part humoured. “Ah, I suppose you wouldn’t know me,” she says wistfully. “It’s been so long since I was in the field.”

The villain’s been in said field longer than most. He squints in an effort to place this random person acting like she belongs here, his hand against the sharp bump in his coat like a comfort. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

A bright smile, like the sun is invading this room and trying to blind everyone in it. “I’m [Superhero].”

The villain’s dagger is in his hand before he can even think about it. The superhero takes a half-step inside and lets the door shut behind her.

“Got your attention, didn’t it?” She nods her head to the hero on the ground. “I know you villains love your heroes… weak.”

The villain tightens his grip to stop the blade from shaking in his hand. The superhero looks mildly amused by his apprehension, as if she belongs here, as if she always has. She hums a laugh, turning her gaze onto the hero still laying on the floor. “Consider this my résumé.”

The villain’s gaze flits to the hero as well. They haven’t moved. Time is short. “You want in with us?”

The superhero positively beams like he’s solved an age-old puzzle. “I’m sure a bunch like you could find some use in an authority like me.”

The villain has to believe her. He tucks his knife back into his belt and kneels down to the hero. “Dramatic change in career path.”

“Who’s to say this wasn’t always the plan?” The superhero watches as the villain unravels bandages from a well-used roll. “You wouldn’t take me in as a novice, so I’ve made myself valuable. Wouldn’t you say so?”

A superhero genuinely being on their side is undeniably, colossally valuable. The villain carefully wraps the larger of the hero’s wounds in the dressing. Wounds the superhero has inflicted, for what? Personal gain? To prove something? Where’s the line in what she wants?

The hero makes some incoherent noise of discomfort from the floor. A smile teases at the corner of the superhero’s mouth, like this is right, like this is exactly what she wants.

The villain’s attention is so focused on keeping his hands gentle against the hero’s pain that he takes a second too long to realise the superhero is inviting herself further inside. 

“What—” is halfway through coming out.“Might as well meet my future coworkers, huh?” She laughs again, like this situation is highly amusing. Like she holds the cards and she knows it. The villain hates it, but she does. “I bet they’ll love me. Everyone always does.”

[reqxxyt]

snowed in d.r

[unedited] requests open !

pairings: daniel r. x f!reader

warnings: none (?)

masterlist

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Usually, when someone asks another to come over at 12 am directly, it’s expected to end up in a bed. When I got the text from Daniel to come over at 12:15 am, I didn’t think much of the situation thinking it was just out of boredom. That’s how I ended up at his apartment, snowed in. He didn’t think to tell me that the chances that this would happen were high seeing as there were ice on the roads and the streets were barely walkable. 

“I can’t believe you dragged me here” My breath could be seen as I bundled myself up into what was meant to be a heated blanket he offered the first hour when the electricity was going but now was just a regular blanket after the power outage. 

“I didn’t want to be alone” he argued in disbelief that I would leave him. I only rolled my eyes, still shivering while watching the downloaded movie that was playing on his laptop on the brink of dying. We stayed underneath the same blanket for heat support meanwhile my own heart was pumping abnormally fast each time his skin would brush against my own leaving harsh goosebumps. 

An intimate scene came on screen, having the two main characters near kiss underneath the starlight night. Without realizing, I leaned closer being invested in the movie until the laptop suddenly shut off. 

“What.” I said pushing my upper body back where Daniel had been leaning against the couch now having his front touch my back. I groaned now too invested in the movie wanting it back on. Daniel chuckled beside me and I lifted myself up, allowing part of the blanket to drop on the edge of the couch. “I should just leave, what am I still doing here?”

“You wouldn’t dare” his jaw fell and I only glared in response ready to say yes, not being serious. “Fine. Let me walk you outside then” 

My heart stopped for a second, thinking if I should take back what I said not being serious about me leaving. But maybe he was tired of my complaints so I headed to the door with him tracing behind me. 

I stepped foot outside the apartment building and immediately felt snow rush to my neck, crawling downwards. I shrieked at the feeling before turning around seeing Daniel with a mischievous smile on his face. 

“Oh you’re so dead” I accepted the request and grabbed a fistful of snow before chucking it at him, plastering it straight to his face making me laugh while he coughed up some remains from his mouth. We kept throwing snow balls at each other laughing whenever one tripped just to fall right afterward. 

Heavy laughter could be heard all the way from down the street if one tried to intervene but no one would walk out while snowing this badly. As I went to pick up another snowball ready for the best throw of my life, I turned my head not being able to spot Daniel. 

“Daniel?” I called out, feeling my throat get itchy amd could already hear my voice sounding horsed. As I was about to turn to check behind me, I felt a giant body weight land on top of me only to spot the person I had been looking for laying on me. He laughed while I groaned trying to shove him away. “Get off”

“Never going to happen” he booped my nose and it finally settled the position we were laid in. My breath slowed down as he stared down at me with soft eyes, our visible breath connected with one another as my hands that were before trying to shove him, comfortably laid on my chest not sure where to lay them. 

My heart started to pick up its pace the longer we lasted in the position, wishing he would be the first to move whether that was forward or backwards. 

“Your nose is really red” was the only thing he whispered to me. Finally my consciousness came back as I shoved him to the side making a joke out of it in fear he didn’t mean anything by laying on me. 

“You owe me food for practically killing me” I said getting myself off the ground. He laughed nervously before following me to the car garage. 

“You really shouldn’t drive in this weather” his voice filled with only concern, I looked to my car before looking back at his pleading eyes and finally caved in. 

“It should’ve been at my house” was all I could say as we went back inside feeling a small relief that it was a bit warmer compared to outside. I didn’t want to mention what happened only 5 minutes ago and I doubt he wanted to either so we stayed silent the entire way back to his apartment. 

My phone had been on the brink of dying for the last hour and I refused to use it knowing I didn’t want a dead battery so there wasn;t much to do as the morning started to rise.

“Want to go to sleep?” I heard Daniel ask behind me as we entered immediately wrapping myself in the blanket. I nodded and followed him to the bedroom thanking myself for my earlier decision on wearing sweatpants and not jeans. Neither of us said anything as we lie down, on opposite sides of the bed having trouble going to sleep with the constant reminder of the cold. 

The silence was loud. I tried going to sleep but the constant teeth grinding heard from the other side was starting to get irritating. “Daniel?”

“Yeah” was barely above a whisper, we turned to each other and without much light in the room I could still see cheeks turning a pink tone. 

“You're shivering,” I said with a concerned tone pushing him the heavy weighted blanket that I had. “We can share” 

“Thanks” he said huddling up closer to me but with enough safe distance to have both of us feel comfortable. 

Hours passed by and the sun finally shined through the window, little warmth entering the bedroom as I started to wake up. I felt arms wrapped around my sides, confused I look to above to be showcased a VIP of Daniel's face. 

Immediately, my face flushed and I wanted to get out. Our arms had been intertwined, mine wrapped around his own torso meanwhile our legs were wrapped around each other. I physically couldn’t see a way out of his grasp so I stayed there knowing how grumpy he’ll be if woken up. 

Half an hour passed by and I stayed, not moving. Contemplating all my past life choices. My heart kept going fast every time I would glance at him and he would mumble something. 

“It’s not nice to stare” was the first audible response I heard before I jumped at the sound quickly getting out of his grasp, thankful he woke up but also missing the warmth that his body brought. “You okay?” He asked seeing my stumbles out of the bed. I only nodded trying to get myself to calm down. 

“Sorry if I woke you up” I quickly apologized as he slowly adjusted himself to sit up, leaning against the headboard. 

“Don’t be. I enjoyed having a personal heater. "His smile made me want to jump out the window. Not my best idea considering we were on the third floor. I sat o. The edge of the bed having my hands laid flat on both sides with my back facing him. I heard sounds of him moving before I finally felt his hand graze my own sending goosebumps up my arm. 

“What are you doing Daniel?” I asked, turning to see him still playing with my hand, tracing the outline before looking up at me with curious eyes. His gaze kept drifting downwards to my lips, debating whether to do it himself. “Daniel-”

Lips interrupted me mid sentence as I felt his lips harshly land on mine, bringing his hands on both sides of my face. With not much hesitation, my lips followed, crazing for more as I could feel my own stomach doing summer salt flips with the way my heart had no intention of slowing down. The kiss turned gentle as he had brought himself forward, now having to lean down to reach me. 

“I don’t know why I didn’t do that sooner” his voice made my heart stop for a moment, loving the way it sounded from it being early in the morning and the intense make out we just had. I stayed silent, not sure how to approach this. “Y/n? Don’t tell me I just threw our four year friendship because I couldn’t handle my emotions” 

“I’m glad you did do just that” With a small smile, his own brightened. 

[lubotomies]

I Kinda disagree ( no hard feeling tho! I respect your opinion). However, you Hit the nail with the panel format issue, Dont get me wrong, telling an arc in few panels have also been used also in the eddsworld classic era before but it was fun to read cuz they weren't heavily storylin arc ( example : Mystery ) (1/2)

no worries about respect, people are bound to disagree! ^_^ i also love discussing things so heres a little bit of my perspective here (also sorry if this ask was a two-part i think my inbox ate the 2nd part of it)

i feel it would be better for these longer comics to be made into shorts instead of comics. the weekly upload of 4 panel story comics is a nightmare. ive criticised TBATF for the same problem, uploading 4-panel comics in what is meant to be an outrageously long webcomic with lore and a lot of events. theres already a remedy for this because eddsworld HAS done longer comics before, and even if it hadn't its never too late to break the imaginary rules v, not everything, especially longer ideas with dead air in the middle, has to be formatted as a four-panel funny

as for the comic itself

its bound to make fans incredibly impatient knowing the next 5+ weeks are going to be about this particular thing that has very little pay off

it feels worth mentioning the pizza time comic which is another 4 parter which lacked any substance and left a lot of fans incredibly disappointed. if you want to put your ocs into your comics as part of the crew there is nothing wrong with that really but youve got to understand that a lot of people are not going to be interested in the mishaps of oc 1 and oc 2 instead of edd and his friends in a series called Eddsworld

very long and i personally did not find it entertaining at all

the problem is definitely not that theyre multi-parters but rather that theyre not self-contained multi-parters. edd made plenty of multi-part comics! but each of them also work as stand-alones, see:

this style of comics, funnies, originates from news papers - so if you were going to make a multi-part comic you would HAVE to make it funny on its own because its no good to get the paper one week, look at the funnies and the funnies dont even have a joke (or at least not a joke thats funny without the extra context). people need to be able to tune in whenever and still get the joke. the modern multi-parters dont account for that and instead make the next part without consideration as to whether its REALLY funny enough to be made into a comic or not.

the comics are made so you can crack the jokes youd have a hard time putting in the show, either because theyre too short to be animated on their own or because the situation is too specific to be organically put in the show (like the rubber one above). if the comic isnt going to have a joke one week, maybe its better to store that in the idea bank for an actual eddisode!

[eksvaized]

Simon ’Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader render by: @661ave

part EIGHT

[ Previous 〡 Next ]

Eventually, no matter how much you would like to hide in your apartment for the rest of the year, you must return to work. You fall back into your old routine. In the mornings, when you wake up and locate your phone, which is usually tangled in between the sheets, you are no longer afraid to check your messages. As promised, Ghost took care of everything, and Soap has ceased texting you.

However, despite Soap leaving you alone, thoughts of him persistently occupy your mind. You become increasingly aware of his presence everywhere. Even in enormous crowds, your eyes can spot him faster than Ghost, who is usually stuck to his side.

You scarcely noticed Soap before discovering he was behind the unknown number, and if you did, your eyes would skim past and you wouldn’t spare him a second glance. To you, he was just another soldier, someone who was a part of Captain Price’s crew, and friends with Ghost.

Ghost advised you to be prepared for the possibility of Soap seeking you out to apologise in person.

“Just tell him to stay away. He can be persistent, but if you ignore him, he will leave you alone.” Ghost said when you expressed your concerns about not wanting to even be in the same room as Soap and talk to him when there are just two of you.

But thankfully, Soap hasn’t tried to corner you so far.

After everything that happened, you assumed that you and Ghost would go back to staying away from each other. Yes, you kissed once, but the following week, after the kiss, nothing more happened and you expected it to stay this way. However, lately, he started showing more attention to you, and you were too weak to resist his affection.

He even insisted on giving you his number and started texting you at least three times a day to ask you how you were doing or what you were up to. The overwhelming amount of attention and constant focus on you made you feel uneasy, as you were not accustomed to it. However, since all of it was coming from Ghost, you kept your mouth shut about wanting to take things slow, and let him set the pace, which turned out to be quite fast…

***

You were cleaning tables in the dining hall, quietly humming to yourself the song that has been stuck in your head, knowing that after you finish wiping all the surfaces, you will be able to go home.

“Sorry to bother you…”

You raise your head when you hear a voice. But when your eyes land on Soap, the world stops spinning and you freeze. He is talking; his mouth is moving, but you are so shocked to see him that the pounding of your own heartbeat drowns out his words, and his voice sounds muffled as if he’s speaking to you through a thick fog.

“Are you all right?” He moves closer, extending his hand. His fingers wrap around your arm. You assume he meant this gesture to be soothing, but it only makes your body recoil as you take a big step back, jerking his arm away.

You think it’s ironic that he asks you that question, considering everything he has done.

“Yes. No… I- I don’t know.” When you try to speak, your words become a chaotic tangle, and you are unsure whether to feel afraid or furious as your emotions blend into one.

He looks puzzled.

“Just stay away from me.” You say after taking a deep, shaky breath.

Soap continues to stare at you. With a perplexed look, he scratches his neck and shifts his weight uneasily from one leg to another, as though confused by your fear. You can’t believe how simple it is for him to act as if nothing happened, as if he didn’t spend over a month taunting you and making your every day feel like hell.

You keep your back straight while crossing your arms over your chest, attempting to project confidence and conceal your anxiety. But your eyes keep darting around, you can’t hold eye contact, and as if sensing your reluctance to be near him, Soap sighs and leaves you.

The next time you bump into Ghost, you tell him about your interaction with his friend.

“Soap talked with you? What did he say?” He asks, taking a step closer and trapping you between the wall and his body. When you look into his wide eyes, you can't help but notice the worry and nervousness that fills them.

“Not much. And he didn’t do anything.” You remark quickly, attempting to calm Ghost down, figuring he is concerned about how Soap may have acted when you two were alone.

A sigh of relief eludes him. His body relaxes, and he unclenches his jaw. You continue talking for a while longer. The conversation shifts from Soap to the question, which you have yet to answer.

“I know you don’t want to rush.” He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and brushes his fingers under your jaw before his hand falls back to his side. “But I’d really like to take you on a date.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, sinking your canines in the soft flesh as you fiddle with your fingers. You are hesitant to answer for no reason and when you realise that, you smile and nod your head, muttering a quiet fine.

“Sunday. My place. Dinner.” You add and Ghost nods; even if he is wearing the mask, by the way the fabric shifts on his face, you can tell that his lips curl into a grin.

Each day seems to fly by faster than the last one because you have something to look forward to this week. And before you know it, Friday evening comes; you are getting ready for your date with Ghost, trying to convince yourself that you are not totally freaking out about it. You hop in the shower after ordering takeout from your favourite restaurant. The food arrives later than expected, but instead of panicking, you use the extra time to do your hair and put on some makeup.

When the doorbell finally rings, alerting you that Ghost has come, you practically sprint towards the front door. For a moment, your body becomes paralyzed because you expect to see Ghost, and you do; he is standing right in front of you, holding a bouquet of blood-red roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. However, he is not wearing his skull mask.

He observes you gawking, but says nothing, giving you some time to compose yourself and perhaps finally say something instead of just ogling at his face.

“I couldn’t show up on our date wearing full gear, and when I ditched it, the mask had to go too.” He cracks a cheeky grin before a playful smirk forms on his face after he realises you’re unable to tear your eyes away.

You invite him in, and while you put the roses in a vase, you order him to settle down in the living room. At first, neither of you talk much and you eat in silence. Ghost attempts to initiate the conversation a couple of times, but you can hardly hear him since, although your focus is on him, you are not paying attention to what he is saying.

You can’t get used to seeing his face, no matter how long you gaze at him. His hair, which is a dirty shade of blonde, is slightly ruffled as if he was constantly running his fingers through it before coming here. His brown eyes look brighter than usual, and you can’t take your eyes off his lips. You want to brush your finger under his jaw because it looks like it could cut your flesh, and you want to feel if it is as sharp as it appears to be.

Tonight is the first time that you pay more attention to his face instead of his body, which you usually fawn over.

“You have to stop.” Ghost lifts his brows and playfully pokes your side. Warmth envelops your body. An electric shiver races down your spine as a result of his touch.

“What? I’m not doing anything?” You giggle and move your gaze up his lips to meet his eyes.

“Mhm.”

He continues to tease you, and you continue to act as if you don’t understand what he’s talking about.

“Stop it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Make me.” You grin and lean in. But as soon as he moves closer to you, you leap on your feet and flee away from the couch.

Ghost watches you. His tongue wets his lips before smirking. You see a playful twinkle glimmering in his eyes. You know what you’re doing, even if you appear to be naïve, and you’re thrilled that he seems to be down to playing whatever silly game you have in mind.

“How am I supposed to make you do anything if you run away from me?” He slowly rises to his feet, and you take back a few small steps, shrugging and smiling, holding back the giggles that are building up in your chest.

You bat your dark lashes at him and bite inside your cheek, toying with your fingers, attempting to look as innocent as possible while planning your next move in your head.

“Catch me.”

You whirl around and dart forward, leaving Ghost standing in the living room, watching as you try to vanish out of his sight.

He catches up to you faster than you would like him to. But you manage to evade his arms when they try to sneak around your waist. After you run out of the living room and into the bedroom, you realise you made a mistake and trapped yourself.

“If I were you, I’d be on my knees right now, begging me to be lenient with your punishment and to be gentle with you.” Ghost leans against the doorway, blocking your only way out.

An aura of danger exudes him, and every bone in your body urges you to put more distance between you and him. But you can’t force yourself to do so because you’re drawn to him like a bee to honey.

You click your teeth and your eyes dart around. You don’t want to give up so easily, but you know that your fate is sealed and that you doomed yourself the moment you decided hiding in the bedroom was a good idea.

He strides closer to you, and your body automatically moves back till your shins brush up against the edge of your bed. The distance between your body evaporates faster than you can realise what is happening. He gently pushes your shoulders, causing your back to hit the soft mattress before placing his hands on each side of your head, trapping you under his frame.

“Is it too late to beg now?” When you pose the question, his piercing gaze, and sly smirk cause your cheeks to heat up.

You feel your heart pounding loudly in your chest as your thoughts swirl, conjuring up the scenarios of how this fake fight between you may end. More than half of your fantasies include all the clothes being ripped off and thrown on the floor, as you and Ghost make a mess of the sheets, and your desperate whimpers and his greedy moans blend together.

“It is.” Ghost replies and grins. “But you can still try.”

He leans down and his nose nuzzles against your collarbone, making you squirm because his touch tickles. His lips ascend to your throat, leaving a trail of wet kisses. He nibbles at your delicate skin, trying to locate the sweet spot on your neck as his hands glide along your curves.

He squeezes your ass, kneading the soft flesh through your jeans, prompting a desperate moan to slip past your parted lips. Then he wraps his hands around your hips, flipping your body on top of his in one swift motion as if you weighed no more than a feather.

[sonicasura]

Alternate idea for TFA Optimus being stranded on Arachnus Seven instead of Elita-1. First off he doesn't turn into a spider. Nope, I'm going for another creature that lurks in caves but tend to eat critters like spiders: BATS.

Fun fact: Optimus Primal's original design had been a bat before it was replaced with the gorilla we know and love. As for the OP here... I'll going for multiple inspirations so he can truly be alien like. Mainly because the 'bat' Animated became was an equal level predator to the Arachna Seven Spiders.

This four winged species which I'll call 'Arachna Nebulas' went extinct due to outside interference as the bat genus in general are very sensitive to changes in their environment. We all know what happens when an ecosystem is heavily disturbed. Optimus was lucky enough to find intact enough remains to become Vetaleus Prime.

Vetaleus being a word play on Vetala, a mythological vampiric bat like entity that takes over cadavers. Fitting as in a way OP is dead whether it be to those he once knew or his old self. For Arachna Nebulas, it's from the Cosmic Bat Nebula that can be found in Orion's Constellation.

Now I have two types of inspiration for Vetaleus Prime. One from the real world while the other is media consumed over the years. For bot mode, I introduce you to Yu-Gi-Oh's King of the Feral Imps and Digimon's VenomMyotismon.

Considering he had remains for this reformat than an alive specimen, OP's techno-organic nature has glaring differences when it comes to his modes. His thick fur becomes large mane like clusters around the helm/wrists/ankles while thinning out half way down his torso as defensive measures shift to the bones of the secondary wings become spikes and horns.

A 33 ft bulky frame meant for sheer force whether it be large powerful claws n talons, sharp piercing teeth to drain a prey's life, powerful tail that can flatten, or even large ears which can hear an ant breathe. Vetaleus Prime's bat like face doesn't help in portraying his gentle yet nervous nature and his still Autobot colors remain under scrutiny. No stereotypical evil Fateswap OP's in this house.

Onto the Arachna Nebulas' mode, I have fictional inspiration alongside three real world ones. Meet the Golden Crowned Flying Fox, Vampire Bat, White Honduran Bat and Monster Hunter's Paolumu!

Optimus is very fluffy in alt mode as the Nebulas' thick fur prevents the spiders from injecting their venom into him. Akin to the Paolumu inspiration than just visage, there's a special air sac in the neck that allows the species to not only float but also spit large blasts of pressurized air if their hammerlike tail slaps don't do the job. Here's the boss fight from Monster Hunter World for further details.

Vetaleus Prime's alt mode is built with the 'bob and weave' concept. Dodging the opponent's strikes while landing your own attacks on them. His larger upper arm wings makes it easier to move and adjust his trajectory in float as the secondary protects the less fluffy parts of the body.

In alt mode Vetaleus has more animalistic mannerisms. Growling, purring, roaring, and whining to convey his mood. He grooms himself like any other animal much to confusion of those around him.

Those mannerisms are still present in bot mode but Optimus tries not to unless alone or around others he trusts. He can't escape from nesting though. One of the ways to our bat bot can make himself feel comfortable and safe.

Like with Arachnus Prime, Vetaleus Prime goes into self exile knowing that Cybertron will never accept him. He ends up on Earth because of poachers who visited Arachnus Seven to capture some spiders to sell on the black market. A conflict that leads to a crash landing before canon occurs.

Optimus here has a more harsher craving when it comes to organics as his primal nature no longer has those giant spiders to satisfy him. It isn't uncommon for the deer and bear population to decline but also poachers or illegal hunters to disappear. You can say Vetaleus Prime holds a feral grudge on this specific group. Unless he has a good supply of oil than Cybertronian are in sheer danger from a feral episode.

Vetaleus craves companionship but isolates him due to fear. He has hurt others before and doesn't want to harm innocent people or much worse a companion. A fear made more apparent from his feral outbursts if refueling needs aren't satiated.

Ways to sustain this primal nature becomes more difficult once Vetaleus is forced to make the sewers his den. Stealing from food delivery trucks WILL happen if he cannot find ample resources in time. A desperate action that solidify his cryptid status as the 'Detroit Devil', escaping with the quarry in hand before anyone fully sees him.

Vetaleus Prime does his best to remain being hidden and indulge soothing hobbies like reading or knitting than cause people potentially dangerous strife. A task that might become impossible when the past ends up in Detroit. Or the haunting realization of what can happen should Vetaleus fail to satisfy his other side.

Team Elita-1 best be careful. An innocent monster is just as dangerous as any other. Optimus rather not sink his fangs into someone he considers a dear old friend but evil will not miss an opportunity like this...

That's it for now! Until next time folks, I'll see you back at the crossroads between Detroit and Cybertron! Now Transform and Roll Out!

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello! I’m wondering if you have any recommendations for Animal-themed TTRPGs? Specifically wild animals if possible (jungle, arctic, desert, etc). I have a lot of recommendations for domestic animals and pets! ☺️

Theme: Wild Animals

Hello friend! You are right, there are quite a lot of recommendations out there for cute pet-like animals, but I think I managed to find a nice variety of wild animals. I also have a few longer games to balance out the 1-page rpgs I found.

One Less Lobster in Maine, by Minte.

You’ve made it! You escaped! Freed from your wooden trap you find yourself on the picturesque coasts of Maine. One lobster alone facing the world, on a journey to make your way back to the sea. 

This game played with a deck of cards, lets you build your own adventure. Play on your own or with friends this is meant to be a fun lighthearted story building game that is easy to pick up and play. All you need are some cards, maybe some friends, your imagination for your very own crustacean crusade.

This game can be played solo or with a group; it’s basically an oracle that presents you with events and obstacles as your lobster makes their way to the sea.

Emu Uprising, by ashleecraft.

You play an emu trying to defeat the government with the help of your friends in this 1-page TTRPG based on The Great Emu War created for the Historically Accurate Game Jam 2023!

This is hilarious re-enactment of a real-life historical event. You roll a series of times using 2d6 to determine what happens in each round of battle. Your goal is to get more Emu points than Human points. Feel free to add your own embellishments to each moment of battle!

Rise of the Apes, by WuDeRPG.

Rise of the Apes takes the premise of the movie Rise of the Planet of the Apes and lets you play as a group of Apes escaping a laboratory on their quest to reach freedom in the woods.

This is the first game using the RISE system, which divides play into 3-act struggles over which your characters will experience evolutionary moments. I think this game has an interesting opportunity as a teaching tool because players have a chance to get familiar with one part of their character sheet before adding on new pieces. I’m interested to see whether each act could be its own game session; breaking out of the lab as the first act could certainly take up to 2 or 3 hours.

Crabpocalypse, by Z Gosck.

Great news, the apocalypse is here!

but not at the hands of zombies, aliens, or unrelenting capitalism, but rather the meaty claws of giant enemy crabs. And even better news, you’re the fucking crabs!

Become crab, as nature intended, in Crabpocalypse! A game that finally puts you in the carapace of a giant enemy crab, bringing unimaginable death and destruction upon a world that sorely deserves it!

An absolutely ridiculous game, Crabpocalypse requires that players play the entire game with their hands shaped like crab claws, lest they lose a point from their highest crabtribute. The whole game is this silly and over-the-top, right to the end - where you will fight a giant, human-allied crab!

Mortal Wombat, by JoshyLongLegs.

Captured in your infancy by some Australian scientists (unburdened by morals or ethics) you have been turned into a sapient cyborg synapsid, hell-bent on escaping the laboratory you've been kept captive in all these years! 

Joined by your own marsupial mob you've got to use your head and your butt to prove yourself the finest Wombatant and make your way to freedom! 

Another simple one-page game, Mortal Wombat embraces the cartoonish style of children’s tv shows and gives your wombats some serious chrome upgrades. There appears to be some callbacks to Honey Heist here, so if you’re familiar with that one-pager, this game will probably be pretty easy to pick up and play.

Moose Trip, by Kira Magrann.

You’re a moose living in the human occupied wilds of Montana. You’ve just eaten some of your favorite psychedelic mushrooms with your friends. The streams are cooling, the willows ripe with delicious leaves, and soft orange moss dots granite rocks amid grassy fields. You’re settling into your favorite lush sanctuary here in the wilds for a mind altering and inspiring psychedelic trip.

This game is more of a conversational experience than something with a definable goal. You take turns rolling mushroom feelings, and then ask the group around you the related question. I think this game could also be used as a mini-game inside a larger campaign, regardless of who your characters are - you don’t even really need to be a moose to play.

The Warren, by Bully Pulpit Games.

The Warren is a tabletop role-playing game about intelligent rabbits trying to make the best of a world filled with hazards, predators and, worst of all, other rabbits. It is a game about survival and community.

There are many creatures, humans included, that are bigger, stronger, meaner, or more numerous than rabbits. The seasons and the elements do not care that rabbits are only little things. Rabbits cannot hope to meet these threats head on. Only through speed, wits, and keeping a cool head can rabbits bypass the dangers of the outside world.

The Warren hails from the PbtA family of games, and pulls greatly on rabbit stories such as Watership Down and Peter Rabbit. It comes highly lauded and is known for its ability to combine the idyllic comfort of being a small creature with the tragic horror of being everyone’s favourite prey. If you want a deep game that isn’t afraid to send you to some dark places, I recommend The Warren.

Games I've Recommended in the Past

Capybara Capers, by momatoes.

Jellyfish Felonies, by Penguin King Games.

My Fish Games Post.

[dominantslasherking]

Hi hi! I'm so grateful for all your fics because your writing is immaculate and I can never get enough about how talented you are! If it was okay with you, could I request another Norman Bates fic (once again haha) where it's sort of a continuation of the last fic with the really seductive reader but this time everytime he walks by Norman he whispers something rlly flirty/dirty in his ear ("Hey pretty boy" or "what a pretty neck you have, would look better with my lips on it" ect up to you). Just assuming Norman reaches his limit of flustered and just snaps eventually 🤷‍♂️

Thank you so much I'm always so grateful!! 🥰

Norman Bates With Dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+.

Norman was used to your teasing to some extent that is, Even though you two were a couple, Norman still got rather flustered with your remarks, he just wasn't used to being looked at in such a light, he was typically proclaimed a murderer by everyone in town, expect you that is.

You defended him in public a lot of the time, so much that people had begun to leave him alone pretty much, only giving snarky remarks here in there.

Something in Norman has been bubbling up, whether it was his sexual feelings or something else towards you, he didn't know how much more he could handle it.

You walked into the living room, giving Norman a smile, he quickly returned it and watched as you walked over to him, he nearly shivered in absolute lust when he heard your voice whisper to him huskily.

"You, look delectable today....darling." Your voice was calm and seductive as If you just didn't send shivers up his spine, you were about to walk away but Norman had gripped your arm and held it tightly his face slightly holding a numb look at he stared at you.

Norman seemed to have snapped, he had enough, you weren't just going to keep teasing him like this and not do anything to him, you kept leaving him flustered and he wanted, not needed you to do something.

Norman took in a deep breath while staring you right into the eyes, his shy behavior gone, his flustered face no longer there. "Do something.." It was almost like an invitation a demanding one, he didn't stutter even once. He was a slasher, and he was tired of waiting.

A smirk had made its way to your face, finally, it seemed you had gotten what you wanted all along, you wanted to see this part of Norman, you knew he had it deep down somewhere in him, why else would he be a killer if he didn't?

"If that's what you want." You responded, walking closer to Norman as you were now face to face with him. Norman didn't even try to move his head away in bashfulness, he stared back in want. He made the first move, taking your lips greedily for himself.

"That's...exactly what I want," Norman spoke coldly, taking your lips for himself again, something in his eyes seemed to have shifted, something dangerous lurking behind them, but no evil intentions towards you, simply intentions of pure want and lust.

Norman was going to take what he wanted.

Oh, and he wanted you.

[mistwhisperexpress]

I'm not Jewish myself but I do belong to a couple of minority demographics that receive denigration for one reason or another, along with people trying to speak for me.

My only real advice is that there comes a point where it's no longer "defending the oppressed" and more infantilization. There is such a thing as being too sensitive. This is a kid's game, not propaganda meant to encourage hatred. Same as any other demographic, Jewish people can speak on their own behalf. They don't need others' help, they only need a listening ear. To do anything else is risking spoiling the fun for everyone including those you're trying to speak for.

Also "goblin" as far as I've seen is as much an umbrella term as anything else. Jewish people don't hold a cultural copyright on financial greed and hooked noses. (may I direct you to dragons and stereotypical witches respectively) I could probably name a dozen other fairy tale and mythological creatures that have such traits.

Suggesting that SSO's new little green goblin (Grinch? Norman Osborn?) is a caricature of Jewish people makes as much sense as saying the orcs in Tolkien's legendarium represent black people or that the white walkers from ASOIAF represent white people, aka little to no sense once you look past the surface. The comparison of Jewish people and goblins alone could be deemed borderline antisemitic in itself. It's misguided, but forgivable.

Worry more about enjoying the game and less about whether SSO is offending a group who are more than capable of defending themselves in a kid's game. ❤️

Okay I don’t blame you for assuming I’m not Jewish because apparently I haven’t mentioned that here yet even though I (mis)remembered I had, but this still feels really weird to send? Telling someone who’s not part of a minority to not speak for them is absolutely okay, the job of people outside a minority is to raise up their voices, not add their own, so I have no issue with that aspect and I am genuinely sorry that’s been done to you, but why are you, someone who by your own words isn’t Jewish, speaking on if goblins antisemitic or not at all? You are speaking for/over us there, and you would be even if I wasn’t Jewish.

I am Jewish, and obviously while we aren’t a monolith, no group of people is, I personally find this depiction of goblins (green and greedy/thief) antisemitic, and with much of the world going mask off with their antisemitism right now I’m not as open to giving benefits of the doubt as I used to be. I do believe this was a mistake on SSO’s part and not intentional as I said in a reblog, but that doesn’t make it any less harmful or antisemitic.

I have done quite a bit of research into the history of goblins and when they began to be used as an antisemitic caricature (as early as the 1800s thanks to the Goblin Market poem, which is just classic blood libel) because I make dice as a job and I want to enjoy D&D without antisemitism and the whole dice goblin thing, and there is a very large connection. This isn't unfounded.

You’re right in that goblins are a bit of an umbrella term, they are, which is why it’s important to let the antisemitic version of them die. You can have goblins that are just mischievous, not green, big nosed, greedy, sneaky, and untrustworthy. It’s really easy to not have antisemitic goblins, but unfortunately the antisemitic version is a mainstream staple and that doesn’t just go away overnight.

If you apply harmful stereotypes to anything, even if it was completely harmless before, you’re going to get a harmful caricature. That’s what happened to goblins, and that’s what SSO did with the Snow Goblins. They took the popular depiction which is the antisemitic version, and applied it to the game without a thought because it’s been normalized to the point most people don’t even consider it may have less than great origins. Like Rapunzel and Hansel and Gretel. They’re so normal the vast majority of people don’t even realize they were created for antisemitic reasons. Antisemitism is sneakily within a lot of things. You don’t start recognizing it until you become familiar with the tropes and stereotypes.

I’m also going to bet if they’re European in origin, the “dozen other fairy tale and mythological creatures that have such traits” you could name also had that done to them if they weren’t antisemitic to begin with. And since you mentioned them, it’s also what was done to the stereotypical version of witches, which is antisemitic and has a very long history of such going back to accused women who were burned being forced to wear Jewish clothing of the time as further humiliation. It’s also where the classic pointy hat comes from, since a pointy cone hat was what we were forced to wear to signify we were Jewish. Witches actually share a lot with goblins in antisemitic traits and SSO also needs to address Pi hitting all but the green skin.

You clearly know a little about the issue, as you brought up The Nose when I didn't, but you also don't know nearly enough to speak about this at all as evidenced by you not knowing the antisemitic history regarding witches, so please don't. And I never said they were a Jewish caricature, I said they were antisemitic, there's a difference. A Jewish caricature is the happy merchant meme.

What we're also not going to do is the whole 'you're the antisemitic one for seeing Jewish people in goblins' thing. That has and always will be an utterly bullshit dismissive argument. The whole point of this kind of caricature is to normalize the stereotypes so when they're actually applied to people you don't blink an eye, like how very few goyim blinked an eye at Mother Gothel in Tangled. I'm currently sick so I really don't have all the smart brain power to go into that right now and I hope someone else can. It's not antisemitic to notice when antisemitic caricatures have been applied to something. That's a very good thing to notice actually, and I want more goyim to start noticing that.

So it does actually make more sense than someone saying those things (which I don't think I've ever seen someone argue??), which I'll get into under the cut to clear up any confusion about how SSO's Snow Goblins tie into the antisemitic depictions, since a couple people were confused in my initial post.

And I am worrying more about enjoying the game; that's the whole reason I brought this up, because I'd like to enjoy a game that's been with me for more than half my life and means a lot to me, and this is preventing me from fully doing that.

Again, I am genuinely sorry people have spoken over and for you. That is wrong and not at all okay. And I'm sorry if I misread the tone of your ask.

Okay !! Education with Mandy time. This has been a long post but I hope you'll all stick with me for just a little longer.

And real quick before we get into the specifics, I want to mention that Christmas time is one of the times where you want to be especially careful about things like this, given the history present with characters like Scrooge.

So for those who don't know what the Snow Goblin is, this is the creature in question:

The typical antisemitic goblin is green, greedy, big nosed, and some flavor or sneaky and untrustworthy.

The Snow Goblin quite obviously hits on the green. If this creature looked like a normal capran and was named something like Snow Imp or Mischievous Capran, there would be no issue. Because bastardy little guys stealing things on it's own isn't an antisemitic stereotype. It's when there's multiple things that are the problem, like green skin, or in this case fur, and calling them something with a very large history of antisemitism when combined with those very traits.

The whole schtick of this little guy is they steal your snowflakes if you don't catch them in time, so it also hits on the greedy and untrustworthy tropes. If the Snow Goblin looked like a normal capran but was still called a goblin, there would still be an issue because the antisemitic goblin isn't just green, it's also bastard of greedy kinds, like a thief not out of necessity but of pleasure. "Thief" isn't directly an antisemitic stereotype, but it's very much there as an undercurrent. The "Jewish people are unfairly taking my money!" implication from The Middle Ages when the stereotype began, when money lender was pretty much the only job we were allowed to have.

If the Snow Goblin was called something else but was still green, I wouldn't say its directly antisemitic, but I would side eye it and not feel comfortable. It's kinda like the Grinch, ignoring the fact Dr. Seuss may or may not have been Jewish depending on who you ask because there's conflicting information. It's not directly anything bad, but I'm going to be a little wary of the intention and engage with it extra carefully.

Its about the combination.

I can't tell you exactly when the mainstream antisemitic goblin came together, because I don't know and it's really hard to find information on that, but it's there, and you can't deny that. I don't necessarily blame SSO for contributing to it's perpetuation, because you don't think to look deeper into something when you have no reason to think it's harmful, but I do hope they change it. And hire some Jewish sensitivity readers because this wouldn't have happened with more Jewish people around to catch it, and with witches being a focus of the story now I am admittedly a little nervous about how that'll be handled.

Also, this is all unintentionally made worse by use of the capran model, because it also gets to hit on the whole fun we're in league with the devil thing and the Jewish people have horns thing. I don't know when exactly those started either (drawings of us with "devil features" have been around a long time), but I know the we have horns one was popularized when Michelangelo decided to give his sculpture of Moses horns, because that's what we look like apparently. There are still people who genuinely believe we have horns. I feel robbed. Horns a super cool, I want horns. Where are my horns?

And before someone says it, yes this is a lot of words for something low stakes in a kids game. There are a lot of more important things right now. But that's exactly why it's mattering to me right now. I don't want to be silent about antisemitism while it's on the rise, but I don't know enough about the current aspects of that to speak on it. I do however know a lot about how it applies to fantasy, and I have had about three work in progress essays about the goblin issue to prepare for this.

And also before someone says it, Snow Gremlin isn't exactly an acceptable new name either. It's basically Snow Goblin 2.0. Gremlins aren't goblins (though they have become a bit synonymous and interchangeable), but they were popularized by the massive and proud antisemite Roald Dahl, and I have a hard time believing he didn't put any of those beliefs into them.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

His Last Hope | Canonverse Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ 1.6k ✧ notes ➼ canonverse, implied relationship, injured reader, protective!levi

Levi walked through the line-up of dead bodies with a blank look on his face. He originally only saw Eldo's body, but eventually found the rest of his squad's as well. They really had been wiped out. Despite him picking his squad members from the best of the best, they still lost overwhelmingly to the Female Titan.

A frown gradually grew on his face as he reached the end of the line-up. As he was walking through, he felt his heart rate steadily increasing as he continuously searched for the one person he had been looking for ever since this mission took a turn towards complete and utter failure. Although not seeing you in the dead body line-up was a relief, every second of not knowing only contributed to the panic that he was beginning to feel.

“Are those all the bodies?” he asked calmly as he heard a scout approach him from behind.

The scout was holding a clipboard and cross referencing names of bodies they found versus the scouts’ verbal reports on who they saw die.

“We’re almost done. There were about five dead that we couldn’t recover,” the scout finally said as he finished counting off his list. “Do you think we should go back for them?”

Levi felt himself tense at that answer. He could not put himself at ease. He desperately wanted to say yes, and to launch another expedition into that forest to find everyone’s corpses so he could be certain as to what happened.

“No,” he said decisively. “If you confirmed they’re dead, that’s enough.”

He paused for a second before forcing the next few words out of his mouth.

“Whether you have the body, dead is dead.”

He was saying that in an attempt to get rid of the intense discomfort he had been feeling throughout the past few hours.

I feel like I’m having a heart attack or as if I just inhaled a shitton of dust and can’t breathe properly. It feels fucking horrible.

You were the last attachment that he had left in his life. It wasn't because others weren't available for him to bond with. It was because he didn't want to. From the very beginning, the minute he got attached to someone meant he was bound to lose them. This was true with everyone he had ever met, except for you. It was like getting close to him was a curse that doomed someone the minute it happened. It just wasn’t worth the effort for him to open himself up to someone if they were bound to leave. 

He had accepted that he was bound to be alone upon the loss of his mother and father figure as a child. He accepted that into adulthood as he wandered the Underground, performing odd jobs for people he couldn’t be bothered to remember. He accepted that as a part of his life, until he didn’t. He took a gamble, took a risk, and allowed himself to believe that he finally found a set of people that he wasn’t doomed to lose. He had finally begun to let himself get attached and believe in hope, until he didn’t.

He remembered his despair upon seeing their corpses. He had made one small mistake that he would regret up until this very day. He had left them alone, unable to protect them, and by the time he realized the gravity of his error, they were gone. He remembered being the lone survivor surrounded by the corpses of his comrades. He remembered the despair that coursed through his body on that one fateful day, before he vowed to no longer subject other people to the curse that was becoming close with Levi Ackermann.

He remembered his resolve to follow that vow immediately shattering once he saw that there had been one other survivor: you. He remembered relief soaring through his chest as he watched you shift from what seemed like a corpse back into a living, breathing person. It made him feel like he was going to throw up and disintegrate into dust. He hated it. He never wanted to feel that again. 

On that day, he had vowed that this one final connection would be the only one he would allow himself to have and that he would never subject himself to feeling that ever again. With every fiber of his being, he poured his soul into protecting that one final attachment in his life. Every comrade that he lost to the Titans piled onto the grief that he adamantly began shoving in a corner of his mind. Now that he was so unsure of your fate, he felt that part of his mind looming over him, and he wasn't sure how much he'd be able to stand.

“Captain Levi?” asked the scout, noticing that Levi had gone quiet.

“I said what I said. It won’t change anything regardless of what we do, other than piling more bodies onto this pile of corpses,” he said without an ounce of empathy in his voice. “Do you at least have the names of the five we weren’t able to gather?”

He listened closely as the scout read off the names of five new recruits that had fallen in combat. He took particular notice that you were not included in that category. He felt that sense of relief itching at the back of his mind, but he was hesitant to let it settle in. Just because you weren't on that list did not mean that you were alive.

“Any wounded survivors?”

He immediately looked in the direction that the scout pointed to and found a few wagons that were lined up with the wounded. He slowly walked over, carefully glancing into each one, feeling his heart rate increasing with every wagon he walked past.

He slowly came to a stop once he finally saw you.

You were fucked up, that was for sure. He could tell that your body was barely holding itself together and that the lineup of cushions and spare cloaks around you was in a desperate attempt to keep your body aligned as a makeshift human-sized splint. He saw that there were bandages wrapped all over your lower torso that were already soaked through with blood.

He felt that panic that had been building up start to dissipate, but it wasn't necessarily relief that settled in. He didn't feel better or more at ease or less miserable. He still felt that sense of not being able to breathe, like danger was still lurking around the corner. The longer he looked at you, the more intense that feeling became.

Slowly, a dark look entered his face as he fixated his gaze upon you.

“Captain?” the scout behind him asked once he noticed that Levi had stopped walking entirely.

However, Levi had either failed to process their voice or just chose to ignore it entirely.

“God damn it,” he whispered to himself under his breath. “The one time I leave you on your own, you decide to nearly die on me, _____.”

~~~~~

You felt an annoying rumbling sensation that refused to go away. No matter how uncomfortable you were, you found that you were not able to toss and turn to adjust your sleeping position. You had a horrible headache and backache. People were talking all around you and you frowned, wondering who would be so inconsiderate to be talking at top volume in your vicinity when you were clearly sleeping.

“The rear line has sighted Titans!” someone shouted.

It was becoming clearer to you that there were multiple people around you and that you were not in bed, although their voices were very muffled.

“I don’t see any tall trees or buildings,” a familiar voice said. “Fighting out here will be difficult. We’re better off outrunning them until we reach the walls.”

Reach the walls? Where am I?

Slowly, you peeled your eyes open, squinting at the sun that was shining from the horizon. You looked up and saw Levi sitting above you, talking towards someone that was riding on a horse next to your wagon. He had a makeshift splint on his left leg.

Seeing his injury quickly reminded you of where you were. You were in the middle of an expedition to catch a traitor in their ranks, and had fallen when engaging an abnormal Titan. You were not at home. You were not in bed. You were being carried on a wagon for wounded soldiers and Levi was sitting protectively above you.

You immediately tried to sit up so you can better grasp the situation, but immediately stopped as you felt an intense pain in your lower left torso.

Before you could even think about pushing through the pain to sit, you heard Levi sigh as he looked down at you.

“Lay back down,” he said sternly. “You’re too injured to fight.”

You groaned in pain, but continued to get up.

“I-I’ll be fine, Levi.”

"Tch," Levi immediately gently pushed you back down, knowing that you were too weak to fully resist.

"I said lay back down," he repeated as he scowled at you.

You sighed in defeat, looking directly into his eyes. They had a dark look about them and his eyebrows were slightly furrowed together as he looked down at you.

Without saying a single word, you knew that he was pissed—and likely, at you.

You had failed to save his squad. Your plan to draw out the imposter had failed. You had failed to lead the squad to victory like you were expected to. If anything, this further proved what you saw as Levi's belief in your incompetence on the battlefield.

A/N: i should probably starting ordering these because they're all from that slow-burn fic i mentioned, i just suck at posting them in order

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 23 SPOILERS‼️

‼️OG LESSON 76 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | more theories

based off of what we saw of simeon in the new lesson, i think that

1. he knows about alternate timelines and possibly altering your future

2. he didn't know if he'd become a demon or a human after his fall, and he didn't know when or how

3. he knew about the celestial war and its outcome to some extent

4. he blames himself for the fall of lucifer and his brothers (duh), and up until he actually lost his wings, he thought he'd avoided the possibility altogether

there's no way simeon can't tell that mc is a human

lucifer knew that mc and little d were strange, and they're powerful enough to be able to tell that their auras aren't angelic in the slightest - especially little d's

unless you count mc's very very very distant blood relation to lilith and luke's blessing, there's probably no trace of anything even remotely related to an angel anywhere on them

there's no way simeon could meet this version of mc that far in the future without some kind of time travel or timeline manipulation

he's too smart not to pick up on that fact

he doesn't seem worried about losing his wings

at all

mammon, on the other hand, is terrified at the thought of someone he's close to losing his wings and probably wouldn't even entertain the thought of losing his own wings

not until the war, at least

simeon didn't go into detail about how he'd meey mc in the future, nor did he go into detail about when or how he's lose his wings

he brought it up almost out of nowhere

mammon was expecting some lighthearted prophecy similar to meeting someone from your past in another time, and finding out that simeon might experience something as jarring as losing his wings made him want to change the subject almost as soon as he heard it

losing his wings was probably the least terrifying thing he read in that prophecy book, especially since whether or not it would happen and whether or not he'd face a fate worse than death were extremely unclear

war is hardly ever unclear, though

and his apparent involvement in it probably made him think that joining lucifer's side would cause him to lose his wings

when the time came for him to pick sides, he was too afraid of disobeying his father and making every prophecy in the book come true, he wanted his future to be his and his alone

he thought he could prevent the war, or at least hold off on it for a little longer - we all know that he knew it was coming whether he wanted it to or not

but when the time came to talk to lucifer, he couldn't bring himself to do it

he knew something was on his brother's mind, and there's no way there wasn't gossip around the celestial realm about tension between one of the most powerful angels, the 6 angels he looked after, and their father

but he wasn't ready to face the fact that war was coming sooner than he anticipated

so he did what most other angels did and sided with the celestial realm

and then, the fall still happened, but he wasn't involved

and he was able to see the way that despite falling from grace and becoming everything they were told to hate, lucifer and his brothers were still thriving

he thought that maybe, just maybe, falling from grace wouldn't be so bad

but he also thought that with the end of the war, his chance of falling was over

that's why he's so accepting and carefree and less stuck-up than the rest of the angels, so much so that he'd forgotten about the part of the prophecy that said he'd meet mc again

not only did he emotionally fall for mc when he met them again, he literally ended his life as an angel for them by stealing lucifer's ring from the celestial realm

but after seeing how unburdened the rest of his brothers were after their fall, he'd follow them without hesitation anyways if it meant feeling the same kind of freedom

[katethewriter]

Just Come Home

sequel to Wish We Could Be Like That

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Words: 6.5~

Summary: Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Inspired by the song Where's My Love by SYML

Warnings: bad words, miles and miles of angst, grab some tissues, you were warned 🙃

A/N: This part ended up being much longer than I had originally planned, but my brain ran away from me. So, I just let it. As always, thank you for the support and patience :) I hope you enjoy!

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

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

When night falls with no call from y/n, Natasha and Wanda try not to worry. It’s the first night of a mission. You’re probably just busy getting settled. They have no idea how long the mission is meant to last. For all they know, you could be on your way back to the compound now. You promised you would call the first chance you could. They just have to trust that you know what you’re doing. There’s no need to worry.

When the sun rises and sets the next day with no word from y/n, there is no stopping the worry that settles in their stomachs. Still they know there is no need to panic. You said you would call, and as soon as you can, you will.

On the third day, the pair, along with the rest of the team, are sent on a mission that distracts them for the vast majority of the day. When they arrive back to the compound, they are exhausted. They fall asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows, though they clutch their phones tightly.

The fourth day they spend watching their phones closely. The devices are never more than a foot away. They must keep them within an arm’s reach, waiting for the call that should come any moment. It never does.

By the fifth day, panic is setting in. Never have you gone this long without speaking. No matter who was gone on a mission, someone would call. Whether it was Wanda and you calling Natasha from out in the field or Natasha and you call Wanda from the compound, whatever the combination, a call is always made. Except this time.

Something must be wrong. What if you need backup? What if you are injured and can’t call? What if you’ve been captured? Its enough of a worry that they rush to the command room. They need to assemble a rescue party.

Entering the command room, they find Maria and Steve looking over a display board. The pair walk directly to them.

“Have you heard from Y/n since she left for her mission?” Natasha asks.

Maria answers in a tone that sounds completely unbothered, “no.”

Wanda and Nat share a concerned glance. “When need to assemble a team now,” the widow urges.

They don’t exactly get the reaction they were hoping for. Steve shows slight concern, while Maria shows nothing but confusion.

“Why?”

Wanda wrings her hands, “something is wrong. We haven’t heard from her since the day she left. She said she would call.”

“Not this time,” the brunette shakes her head.

“She always calls.”

“We have her phone,” Maria looks between the two for just a moment, “she’s deep undercover with no contact. Infiltrating one of the largest, most powerful organized crime rings in the city. We can’t risk blowing her cover.”

“and she’s out there alone?!”

“Of course not,” Steve tries to reassure them, “don’t worry. She’s in good hands.”

The two red heads share and uneasy glance.

“Who is she with?”

FIVE DAYS EARLIER

Shit.

There, standing in front of you, Clint lowers his bow. You share a look. No words are spoken, but an agreement is made: whatever tension they have between them has to wait until this mission is over.

"Welcome to the party.” He eyes you up and down, before nodding his head in the opposite direction of the illuminated door way, “I’ve got us set up in here.”

You follow him into a room that seems to have once been a conference room. Chairs have been moved to line the walls on either side of the door. One table sits in the center of the room, a few boxes labeled as food wait to be unpacked. Another long table is positioned parallel to the wall with about a three foot gap in between. Files and papers are scattered across the table, and on the wall behind it, Clint has begun to organize the information, using tape to hang pages from the wall.  Two more tables are stacked in front of the other set of double doors that lead back into the hall.  

 There are two cots set up on opposite sides of the room. You can see where he has clearly claimed one. A tray of trick arrows in various stages of assembly, along with clothes that would never fit you are spread across his corner of the room.

All along the wall below the boarded up windows, an arsenal of weapons is laid out. Snipers, hand guns, knives, and arrows sit, ready for a fight at a moment’s notice. Even a few batons that are typically reserved for Natasha and Yelena wait for their chance at some action.

Approaching the boarded windows, you find various places with gaps in the wood. They are small openings. Undetectable from the outside, but they are more than enough to afford you a good view of the surrounding area.

Turning to what has apparently been designated as your side of the room, you approach a desk with a few monitors and a laptop. The images on the screens switch from various views of the halls you just entered through along with several angles of the alleys on the other side of the building. All appear to be live feed based on the time stamp in the corner of each image.

“We’ve got the building completely bugged,” Clint calls from across the room. “No one’s getting in undetected.” You glance over to him, where he’s back to assembling arrows, “Our rendezvous with the tracksuits is at 10 tonight. You should get settled. There’s clothes for you in that duffel. Food on that table. Its gonna be a long night. If you think you’ll need some rest, you should probably do that now.”

“Yes sir,” you mumble sarcastically under your breath. He doesn’t hear it.

“I’ve also started organizing our intel,” he motions towards the table littered with paperwork, “might want to glance over some of it before we get started."

All you offer him is a silent nod of your head, as you make your way to your space. You drop your bag at the foot of your bed, if you can really call it that. On the ground next to it, is a large duffel bag. Kneeling in front of it, you open the bag to find a wide array of street clothes, all in your size. Rifling through the pile of clothes, you finally decide on an outfit.

As you begin to change, it doesn’t dawn on you that you are undressing in front of Clint. With your back turned to him, you just simply act as if he’s not there. He’s probably too preoccupied with making arrows to even give you a glance.

Except he’s not.

As you lift Natasha’s shirt that you borrowed from their closet this morning, he catches sight of the bruise that covers your shoulder blades and the purple handprint around your bicep. His mind instantly plays the interaction from that night. He didn’t’ think he had grabbed you that hard, but he was pretty upset. His emotional plight to protect Natasha’s heart had maybe clouded his judgement.

Suddenly, Clint remembers the mission and decides to push that out of his mind. He needs to focus and do what he was sent here to do. He returns his attention to his arrows, and you are none the wiser.

You bring the shirt up to your nose and inhale deeply. It smells mostly of Nat, hints of Wanda linger on the fabric only because the two have shared a closet for so long. You absolutely resent the fact that you were not given enough time to go pack at least a few things for yourself. You definitely would have grabbed more of your girlfriend’s clothes.

But all you have is this one shirt and the jeans you wore with it. You throw the top onto your bed, knowing you will most likely need it to be able to sleep tonight. You quickly throw on the clothes that SHIELD had packed for you.

With that out of the way, you turn to the wall of intel. Phone records, images from security cameras, a stack of arrest warrants, evidence of a few shell companies and fronts, all the way down to grocery receipts. It’s a mess. 80% of it doesn’t make sense. There’s no connections or real structure, but that’s why you’re here. To untangle the web this group has meticulously woven around themselves.

You’re so far down the tracksuit rabbit hole, that you don’t notice Clint joining you until he is practically standing right next to you.

From under a file, he pulls a photo that looks like it was taken by a traffic cam. Two men are standing outside a door, completely unaware they are being photographed. Clint points to the guy on the left, “that is William Lopez. He recently died in a car accident.”

“An accident or an ‘accident’,” you ask with air quotes the second time you say accident.

“There’s a 97.8% chance that there was foul play.”

You nod, using air quotes again, “’accident’, got it.”

Clint points to the guy on the right, “and that’s Wilson Fisk. He was Lopez’s right hand man, now he runs the whole operation.” Based solely on his appearance, you understand how Lopez’s accident was an ‘accident’.

“So what’s his deal?” you ask scanning over the materials again.

“Not sure,” the archer grabs another document and examines closely. “The group has been rapidly acquiring a wide array of different chemicals and substances in large quantities.”

“What ever they’re trying to make, they’re trying to make a ton of it,” under a set of files, you find a blank notebook and begin jotting things down as you come across them. “Question is: why?”

Clint nods, “we’re posing as suppliers, and suppliers don’t ask questions. It’s probably gonna take several shipments to gain their trust enough to start digging. “

“Where is the shipment now?” you pause to turn to him, notebook still in hand.

“Already packed in the car downstairs, and this…” he hands you a rather large book, “…is everything there is to know about the items we’re supplying. Our best angle is to go in as family, probably siblings. You would be the one with the knowledge of our supply. I’m the muscle to help you move it.”

With a shrug, you agree, “works for me.” You open the book and turn to the first page, “looks like I have some reading to do.” You make your way over to your bed and sit.

“Just give yourself time to rest and get ready, the exchange is tonight at 10-“

“tonight at 10.” You say just as he does.

With your nose stuck in the book, he knows he won’t get anything more out of you until you finish. He returns to his arrows.

While you’re doing your homework, he’s doing his homework.

~Cold sheets, oh where's my love?~

Days turn into weeks turn into months.

For Natasha and Wanda it all starts to blend together.

Two and a half months have passed since the last time they spoke to you, and it shows.

The pair try to stay busy to make the time pass faster, and it almost works.

The days are not so bad. Natasha spends more and more time training, picking up extra missions when she can. More times than not, Wanda will join her on these impromptu missions. The rest of her spare time is spent in the kitchen usually. She cooks and bakes to keep her hands busy. Within the first three weeks, she has mastered the recipes of your favorite foods and deserts. Subconsciously, she’s hoping that if she can make the right dish, maybe that will be the day that you’re home in time to eat it.

Of course you never are. So the rest of the team get to reap the benefits of her stress baking.

The days continue in this manner. Keeping busy helps while the sun is up, but the night is a different beast altogether.

Cold.

That’s the first thing Wanda thinks when she rolls over in the middle of the night. She reaches out across the bed seeking her girlfriends for warmth, but all the she finds is empty sheets.

The Sokovian lays there in confusion for a moment, wondering where the two of you are. As she gradually becomes more aware of her surroundings, she remembers. Y/n is gone. But she distinctly remembers Natasha being here when she fell asleep.

Though she’s not here now.

It only takes a moment longer for her to think of where the widow must have gone. Wanda rolls out of bed and makes her way through the compound. She quickly enters your room long enough to swipe a blanket from your bed.

When the elevator doors open, she finds Nat. The widow sits on the roof looking up at the night sky. Wanda silently approaches, taking her place next to her. The younger woman wraps the blanket around both of their shoulders.  

In silence, Wanda takes in Natasha’s features for a moment. The clench of her jaw, the way the corners of her mouth point downwards, the glassy reflection of unshed tears in her eyes.

“Have you found any constellations?” she asks, turning to look up as well.

“No,” Nat mumbles, “it all just looks like dots.”

That’s kind of how she feels at the moment. In the grand scheme of things, her life has not drastically changed. She still gets up and trains, goes on missions, spends time with the team, all the things she did when Y/n was here, but without her… it all just feels like she’s going through the motions.

Its strange how someone can come into her life, changing it by so little and by so entirely much at the exact same time.

The widow pulls the blanket tighter around her body. She grabs the fabric bringing it to her nose. She inhales deeply, hoping your scent will make her feel better. But it only strengthens the ache in her chest.

A tear slips down her cheek as she looks back up to the sky, “I miss her.”

Wanda releases a long sigh. She rests her head on Nat’s shoulder, “I know, me too.”

~I am searching high.

I'm searching low, in the night.~

You toy with the rings around your neck, as you look up at the sky. From behind this warehouse, you can’t really see much of the stars, but its enough to spot Ursa Major, one of the constellations you had shown Nat and Wanda the night they asked you to be theirs.

The memory makes you smile and ache at the same time. You’re lost in your thoughts of the that night and how much you miss your girlfriends, you almost miss the group of cars approaching the warehouse.

When the headlights grab your attention, you quickly duck back into building.

“Just pulled up,” you relay to Clint as he leans against the SUV, filled with your shipment. Almost three months in, and you are finally starting to be accepted more by the group. Several exchanges of the goods has left you in the group’s good graces.

This rendezvous is no different.

They come. They check the shipment. Some words are exchanged, and you’re done… almost.

The rest of the men load up the shipment and most exit the warehouse, except one car lingers behind with you and Clint.

One of the younger tracksuits remains while two others get in the car and wait with the engine running. Kazi, as you’ve learned his name to be, approaches you and slips a note to you. “Boss heard you know what you’re talking about when it comes to all this stuff,” he says under his breath. “He thinks maybe you could show our guys a thing or two. Your grandpa stays home though.” He quickly glances between you and Clint who is standing quite a bit away leaning against the SUV.

From the beginning, they hadn’t taken to Clint for whatever reason. Probably because he reaks of Avenger mojo. They trusted him partially because they haven’t had a reason not to, but mostly because you vouched for him. This is the break you had been waiting for. You’ve been inching your way in a little more with each interaction, never fully breaching the inner circle.

This is your chance. Now all you have to do is convince Clint to cooperate.

“Think about it,” Kazi says, and then he’s gone. Quickly making his way to their car, they peel off and drive off into the night.

You inspect the note, and all you find is seven numbers scratched quickly in blue ink. A phone number clearly. One they don’t just give out to anybody apparently. You pocket the note and make your way back to your vehicle.

Clint raises his brows at you playfully, “someone’s gotta crush.”

You roll your eyes as you climb into the passenger seat of the car. “Can you just drive please”

“So you got a hot date this weekend?” he eggs on further.

“Ha ha ha,” you retort sarcastically, “very funny, everybody’s got jokes.” You fish out the burner phone SHIELD had issued and began flipping through the contacts you have made with the tracksuits to compare to the new number, “he’s not even my type.”

The archer laughs at your remark, “oh yeah? What’s your type?”

“Red headed and female,” you quip back, too preoccupied with your contact list to think before you said it.

However, you do notice the deathly silence that washes over the car. You quickly recount the conversation and realize what had accidentally just came out of your mouth. Instantly, you know how Clint took your words. He thinks you mean Wanda. Which you do, but you also include Natasha in the same category of red headed females.

You chance a glance over to him, and you know you’ve messed up.

The archer’s grip on the steering wheel has turned his knuckles white as snow. The clench of his jaw rivals the grip of an alligators. The anger rolls off of him in waves.

“Its comments like that are why I asked you on this mission.”

His words slap you across your face, and you turn to him in disbelief.

“What?”

Clint shakes his head, eyes never leaving the road, “This was a solo mission. I told Fury to send you too.”

Shock slips into feelings of betrayal.

“Why?”

The car comes to a stop at a red light, and he looks over to you, “to keep you away from Wanda.”

Betrayal melts into fury.

Fury towards him for volunteering you. Fury towards Fury for agreeing to it. Fury towards yourself for getting yourself in this position in the first place.

~Does she know that we bleed the same?~

Yelena’s back hits the mat for the seventeenth time since she and Natasha had begun sparring less than an hour ago.

“Cyka,” the blonde hisses, “would let up at least a little please. It would really suck if I get benched from missions because my sister broke my back in training.”

“Sorry,” the older widow offers her hand to pull her sister to her feet, “just a little on edge.”

She is way more than “a little on edge”. According to the timeline they were given by Maria at the beginning of your mission, you should have come home two months ago. Natasha walks into the command room every day, expecting that today will be the day you are on your way back to the compound.

They are waiting for the message from you that states you have reached your objective, obtained the data you were to obtain, and that you were ready for extraction.

Yet every day they are met with the same reply: radio silence.

There’s no need to panic until you miss a check in, which you have not.

They just have to wait… and wait.. and wait… for word from you.

“Shit, Y/n name better move her ass on this mission,” Yelena groans as she makes it to her feet, “I don’t know how much of this I can take. Wanna go again?”

Natasha eyes her sister incredulously, “you sure about that? You’re barely standing on your own.” She teases her sister.

“I’m great,” the blonde holds up a thumbs up, “are you kidding? I’m barely breaking a sweat.”

The older widow pats her sister on the back, “let’s call it for today. I need to go check with Maria anyway.” She makes her way over to the side of the mat, quickly she grabs her water bottle and towel from their place on the ground.

Yelena calls after her, “sestra, they will call you when they have an update…” Her words fall on deaf ears as her sister is already out of the gym.

Yelena knew her sister cared for y/n. She knew that even before she found out about the throuple, but she never fully understood the extent until she saw her sister and future sister-in-law stuck spending so much time apart from their third.

It was tangible for everyone. Even those who had no suspicion at all of y/n’s involvement in their relationship can clearly tell the impact her absence is having on them. It probably wouldn’t be so bad if they could at least talk to her, but the complete cut off only worsens the effect.

Maria and Steve are standing in the same spot looking over the same display screens they always are when Natasha enters the command room. They look up as the widow approaches them. Their expressions are different than they have been in the past days Natasha has come to them for a check in.

She can sense the change, and for a moment, she is hopeful. They have news. You’re finally done with this damn mission. You’re coming home.

Nat comes to a stop in front of the pair and looks between them expectantly. “Any news?” she asks when they remain silent.

“Yes,” Steve nods with his lips pursed, “they checked in early this morning.”

“…and?”

Maria takes a deep breath, “they’re not done yet.”

 Natasha deflates internally, but her cool exterior is poised as she was always trained to be. She nods with a slight clench in her jaw. She looks at the brunette and she can tell there is more, “…and?”

Maria breaks eye contact to look down at the tablet in her hands. She raises her eyes once more to Natasha, “…and they’re extending the mission by another month… at least.”

If Natasha deflated before, she crumbles now. She keeps her expression calm, but she can’t quite fight the sudden glassiness of her eyes. However upset she is, she manages to keep the tears from falling down her cheeks. “Are they ok?”

Steve nods, “they were given an opportunity they can’t pass. The whole reason they were sent under in the first place.”

Natasha nods her head in understanding. She knows what its like. She’s been in that same position. When all the cards are aligning, and you’re just waiting for the ace that will end the game. Though the difference is that at the time she didn’t have people waiting for her to come home, and if she did, she got to actually say goodbye, before she left for who knows how long.

She’s not mad at y/n; she’s just mad at the situation.

“Keep me posted,” the widow says, before she exits the command room in search of Wanda, the only other person who knows how she feels at the moment.

~Don’t want to cry, but I break that way.~

Wanda floats around the kitchen preparing lunch for the team. She’s trying her hardest to keep her hands busy to keep her mind off the fact that she misses her girlfriend.

The counters are covered with ingredients for ramakin pot pies. A dish she first made during your two months of solitude in the compound. They were a huge success. You had loved them, begging for her to make them again more than a handful of times. She has since memorized the recipe. Now she moves almost on autopilot. Her hands work off of muscle memory as her mind wanders elsewhere.

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

Wanda checks the three single serving dishes in the oven. She is adjusting the temperature when a set of arms snake around her waist. A familiar scent washes over her, and a kiss is planted on her cheek.

“Those look divine,” Natasha praises her fiancé.

The younger woman leans back into the embrace, “I hope they turn out well. It’s the first time I’ve tried them.” She taps Nat’s arms, silently asking to be released. The widow obliges after a few more kisses are placed on Wanda’s cheeks.

Wanda begins to tidy the kitchen, which is probably the messiest she’s ever left it.

“What made you decide to try them?” the widow asks as she immediately helps with gathering the dirty dishes in the sink and begins to wash them.

With an arm full items to be returned to the pantry, Wanda replies, “I was flipping through one of y/n’s recipe book, and it caught my eye. My mother used to make something similar, though it was a bit more Sokovian.” She closes the pantry door and makes her way back into the kitchen, “I never learned that recipe though.” She adds a few mixing spoons to the dirty pile Natasha is working through.

“What is that?” you round the corner drawn to the kitchen by the savory aroma wafting through the compound halls. “It smells delicious!”

The pair’s smile instantly brighten at your interest. Its only been a week and a half since they brought you into their relationship, and they are entirely smitten with you.

Wanda pauses midway through wiping the counter to turn to you with her lips puckered. You immediately grant her the wish, still not one hundred percent sure this isn’t just some amazingly beautiful fever dream  you’ve slipped into.

“Ramakin Pot Pies,” Natasha says, quickly grabbing your attention. She leans towards you, asking for a kiss of her own. A wish you immediately grant.

You pause for a moment taking in the sight before you. Dinner in the oven, and both of your girlfriends in the kitchen cleaning the evidence of the preparation. Your eyes narrow, “and who exactly made the pies?” You ask with a playful hesitance to your voice.

“That would be yours truly,” Wanda smiles amusedly.

You turn to her, “just you?”

“Yes, why?”

“Oh thank god,” you let out an over dramatic sigh, “for a second I thought Nat made them. Now I know they are in fact edible.”

The pair both halt and look directly at you. Wanda bursts into laughter, while Nat looks very much less amused.

“No offence,” you smile cheekily to the widow who sets down the dish she is currently washing.

“Offence taken,” she replies, before quickly lunging at you with her soapy hands.

With a loud squeal, you dodge her first advance, but she quickly regains her footing. To avoid being smothered in the bubbles coating her hands, you take off, running out of the kitchen and down the hall in a fit of laughter with Natasha close behind.

Coming to a corner, you try to redirect your momentum fast enough to throw her off. Try being the key word here.

You manage to stop your forward motion, but before you can pivot down the new hallway, Natasha’s weight impacts you from behind. The pair of you go down in a rather ungraceful crash. The bubbles Natasha had carried from the kitchen sink fly and smear over both of you.

The initial impact certainly hurt, but it was quickly overcome with the fit of giggles as the two of you lay in a tangled pile on the floor.

At the sound of your fall, Wanda quickly follows down the hallway. She rushes to you in concern, only to be pulled down by the two of you. The three of you roll around playfully.

It’s a miracle you made it back to the kitchen in time to save the pies from burning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Wanda is placing the last of the small dishes into the oven when Natasha’s voice startles her out of her day dream of a memory that feels like years ago and somehow also like it was just yesterday.

The dish slips through her hands and lands on the ground in a shattering crash.

“I’m so sorry lyubov. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Natasha quickly apologizes as she moves to begin cleaning the mess, but Wanda stops her.

With a wave of her hand, the shattered dish as well as the uncooked meal it vanish from the floor and appear in the trash can. “It’s ok,” Wanda reassures her, “it was an extra anyway.” She’s been doing that a lot lately. She’ll make an extra serving of whatever she is making. Sometimes its an unconscious accident, including y/n in the head count without realizing it. Sometimes it is just wishful thinking.

The witch closes the oven and sets a timer. She then turns to Natasha fully taking her in since she entered the room.

Wanda first notices the worry and sadness in her face. Next she unintentionally hears Natasha’s very loud thoughts.

They have to suffer another four weeks of this… and that’s the best case scenario.

She can’t stop the tears that flood her eyes. The only thing that has kept her going these past couple weeks is the belief that there is a light at the end of this tunnel. But this tunnel just keeps stretching and stretching with no end in sight.

It almost feels hopeless.

Natasha steps forward wrapping her arms around her girlfriend, “its gonna be ok.”

But Wanda is tired of hearing ‘its gonna be ok’

‘she’s gonna come home soon’

‘just a little longer’

It’s feeling more and more hopeless as the time goes on.

Wanda pulls from Nat’s arms, “no, its not gonna be ok.” The tears roll down fat and heavy. “It feels like she’s never coming back. What if she doesn’t want to come back? What if she just keeps running?”

The older woman’s eyebrows furrow together, “what do you mean, detka? Of course, she’s coming back.”

“What if we were too late?” the younger woman questions. “Keeping the secret that long…. Did we push her away? Did we push her into this? Are we the reason she won’t come home?”

“Where is this coming from?” Natasha takes Wanda’s face into her hands.

The anguish is ever present on the sokovian’s face, “What else can this be? I can’t think of another reason. Why would she take a mission like this? Why would she leave without saying goodbye?” Natasha tries to calm her, wiping at the tears even as more flood down her cheeks. “Why won’t she just come home?”

~Did she run away?

Did she run away? I don’t know.~

“It’s just what he said, Clint,” you repeat for what feels like the one hundredth time.

You’ve been at this for hours. So long that the sun should be rising any second. You’re exhausted. You just want a few hours of sleep before you begin prepping yourself for what the tracksuits have in store for you.

After that very tense car ride last night, you had laid the cards on the table. Telling Clint what Kazi said, about their offer, how this is the best chance you have to finally nail down exactly what it is they are trying to do with these supplies.

The archer paces back and forth, “I can’t send you in there by yourself.”

“Swallow your pride, Barton,” you snap back, “look I’m sorry you didn’t get an invitation to the sleepover, but this is what we were sent to do. This is the closest we’ll get to the boss and his agenda, and you know it.”

Your partner stops and turns to you, “this has nothing to do with my pride. This is about safety, specifically yours-“

“No.” You cut him off, “you don’t get suddenly fall back on some ‘for my safety’ bullshit, when we both know you have been waiting to take me out for months. Look, this two birds-one stone for you. I get the intel you need to report back to base, and the tracksuits kill me so you can keep your hands clean.”

Clint shakes his head, but doesn’t stop his pacing, “I’m not waiting to take you out. Even if you are trying to ruin my best friend’s relationship, you’re a damn good agent. This has nothing to do with that.”

“It has everything to do with that!” you stand now. “It’s the only reason I’m on this mission. You asked for me to be here,” you step into his path, stopping him mid step, “now, let me do what I was sent here to do.”

The archer’s eyes stare into yours, and you match his gaze. You hold there for what feels like an eternity.

Something catches the light and draws his attention down. His eyes drop to the necklace hanging from your neck. Specifically, his gaze is captured by the two rings that hang side by side. He would recognize those rings anywhere. The one of the left he has seen on his best friend’s finger for the better part of two years now. The one of the right he had helped pick it out, hours he spent with Natasha in various stores, eventually to the one that designed it custom for her.

When you notice his gaze has dropped, you follow his line of sight to see your necklace resting on top of the fabric of your shirt. You hadn’t noticed when it somehow came untucked from its usual hiding place. Quickly, you grab it to tuck it back into place, but its too late. He’s seen them.

“Why do you have those?”

You turn and begin rummaging through your bag for your sleep clothes, “it’s a long story.”

You always wore the same thing to sleep: the shirt you had taken from Nat and Wanda’s closet the morning you left for the mission and a pair of gym short curtesy of SHIELD. Nat’s shirt has long lost her and Wanda’s scent, but its still the closest you will get to the real thing while you’re here.

Hoping to escape the conversation, you make your way to the door. Normally you would have just changed in the room even with him there, but you really wanted to evade this line of questioning.

As you’re about to walk past him, he grabs your arm, much like did in the hallway that night several months ago. “Y/n, why do you have Nat and Wanda’s rings?”

Without a word, you look from his eyes to his grip on your arm. Immediately, he releases your arm and steps back with his hands in the air.

You decide that now is the time, “They gave them to me.”

“Why?”

“So, on the day they propose to me, I can give them back.”

The silence is loud, deafening really. You watch as he tries to understand.

It seems like forever before he speaks again, “…when they propose to you?”

You nod.

“I’m with Nat and Wanda,” you straighten your back, “I am their girlfriend, and they are both mine.”

As the sun peeks over the horizon, light beams through the exposed gaps of the boarded windows, and a sudden weight lifts from your shoulders. However he reacts is how he reacts, and that is his problem, not yours. The burden you’ve carried vanishes.

~If she ran away,

If she ran away, come back home.~

Maria and Steve are standing in the same spot looking over the same display screens they always are when Natasha enters the command room. They look up as the widow approaches them.

She comes to a stop in front of them, “any news?”

She knows what the answer is. They told her less than 24 hours ago that you had checked in yesterday to extend the mission by another month. Its too soon for anything new. Your next check in isn’t for two weeks.

At this point, no news is good news.

Maybe that’s why Natasha still comes every day to almost always be met with the same answer. She has to ask. Not necessarily to check for good news, just to make sure there isn’t any bad.

Steve can understand that need. “No,” he offers her a sympathetic smile.

 The widow only nods. With a heavy sigh, she turns to exit. Only three steps, and she is being stopped by a voice behind her.

“Natasha.”

She turns back to the pair.

Maria’s brow is furrowed ever so slightly, “No contact missions aren’t new. Y/n and Clint are good agents. What’s the difference? Why are you so concerned about this one?”

Natasha glances down for less than a second, despite her best efforts, a tear slips down her cheek. “Wanda and I are seeing y/n.” The other two nod, that information now known across the entire agency. “You sent her out so fast,” she swats away another tear before it can leave her eye, “you didn’t give her time to say goodbye.”

Both Maria and Steve nods in solemn understanding. Nat turns to leave again and is stopped again.

“I can’t promise I can get a message through,” Maria cautions, “but if I can, what do you want it to say?”

~Just Come Home~

Part Three

Series Master List

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