#they've worn a bit over the years.

[cantankerouscatfish]

truly, the long day is over. one 13 hour shift is enough for me, thanks.

#tomorrow is longer-than-usual-but-not-THIS long so it doesn't count. like the day before yesterday! #it's the waking up early that kills me. that and the standing and standing and standing. maybe we can ask for new fatigue mats again. #they've worn a bit over the years. #it snowed out today... I saw it on the greenhouse glass through the little broken piece of wall above my wrapping station......

[chipistrate]

Welcome to the Grand Opening of Freddy Fazbears Balloon Circus!

After an array of previous undisclosed incidents at the Mega Pizzaplex, ending with the sudden collapsing of the building due to an unexpected earthquake, Fazbear Enterprise has demolished the old mall and rebuilt a new and improved carnival on the property! But just because the attractions above ground have been overhauled, doesn't mean the secrets beneath the surface have magically disappeared.

Reblogs appreciated!

MANY more rambles about this AU under the cut: would much appreciate if you read them, but there's no obligations!

EVERYTHING HERE IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE!! This AU has just been pieced together by my insane ramblings to my friend over the past few days, so everything in it's early stages of development, and this post is being written VERY late while I'm very sleep deprived and just trying to finish it in time to schedule it! If some things are a bit weird or inconsistent then please keep that in mind! Thank you! :D

Gregory, Vanessa, and Freddy all return to the now renovated lot where the Pizzaplex once stood, having been called back two years after their last failed visit too save a long lost friend, too repair their old creation known at the M.X.E.S after it was suddenly and unexplainably shut down again. Upon entering the new-ish carnival, they'll quickly find it hard to safely look for the entrance to the layers below as the friendly mascot suits above chase after them for being unwanted guests.

Above ground, they're hunted by the mascots- new suits built for both performers and endoskeletons to be able to wear. This night, controlled by corrupted endoskeletons, they've been ordered to chase after the intruders by someone lurking below the carnivals ground. As well as finding the littler animatronics, known as Balloon Babies, to be quite the inconvenience.

Below ground, they're hunted by the old Glamrocks, still functional after all this time, and now under a new threats command that's also trying to keep the 3 star family from reaching M.X.E.S; Vannie. Aka, Cassie. Still here in the ruins of it all, waiting for the her perfect moment to lure the family back in and get her revenge for what they did to her all those years ago.

The mascots are the new faces of the Freddy Fazbears Balloon Circus, their costumes built to be worn by both endoskeletons and actors- but in a safer way than the springlock suits. The actors are used during the day for greeting and interacting with guests, putting on performances, etc etc. While the endoskeletons are used at night as a replacement for security guards and STAFF bots, kindly, but forcefully, escorting any intruders off the premises. Under Vannie's control they, of course, are much less kind and gentle with how they "escort" the 3 star fam out of the carnival.

Balloon Babies are smaller, almost Helpy-like animatronics in appearance, built to keep lost and lonely children happy and entertained while waiting for their guardian to arrive. They can't speak, but they can play song, games, sound effects, blow up balloons with their fingertips, etc etc. They found Gregory after he had been forcefully split up from Vanessa and Freddy by the mascots, and upon the family reuniting, the Balloon Babies more annoying feature kicked in: The Emergency Alert System. Whenever a child they are playing with is approached by an odd looking adult or other figure that seems like they could be a potential threat to the child's safety, whether that be a kidnapper, unfit guardian, bully, etc. the Balloon Babies will use their emergency alert system to call one of the mascots over and deal with the threat, kindly guiding the threat away and bringing the kid to a safer area away from potential danger where they can stay with staff until a proper guardian arrives. The Balloon Babies had decided in their time with Gregory that Vanessa and Freddy were unfit guardians for leaving Gregory scared and alone this late at night, and any time Vanessa and/or Freddy is nearby, their alert system will sound off and call a mascot to their location. The problem, other than the obvious, is that the Balloon Babies are fixated on Gregory. They will always be attracted to him and find their way back to him no matter what, with the only exception being when he's under ground. Which means that, until they can find a way to deactivate or otherwise get rid of these guys, Gregory is forced to be split up from Vanessa and Freddy above ground, and regroup underground.

The only exception is Goldie, a soft yellow version of the Freddy Balloon Baby that doesn't follow the others. Goldie is the only one of the Balloon Babies that can go underground, Vannie specifically programming him to be able to do so. He follows Vannie around and provides her with much needed company, being her only real friend down here besides Roxy. Later on, Gregory will find Goldie, but instead of calling for the mascots whenever Vanessa is near, he'll send out a signal to distract the other Balloon Babies away from Gregory so they won't call for the mascots or overwhelm him. Goldie can tell that Vanessa and Freddy are fit guardians that love Gregory very much, and can also tell that they're afraid of the mascots, though he can't compute why- it's his job to make sure that kids and their families are safe, so he's doing his best to ensure their safety however he can. Later on, Vannie will come looking for her friend after a long period of time of him being away and find him with the 3 star family, causing more conflict between the two parties that Goldie can't understand- Cassie and Gregory are supposed to be friends, aren't they? That's what Cassie said. Friends aren't supposed to fight each other, they're supposed to protect each other. That's what Goldie believes, at least.

Random trivia;

-Gregory, Freddy, and Vanessa have been living together for about 3 years now. 1 year by the time of Ruin, and 2 years after the fact leading up to Balloon Circus.

-Cassie has been gaslit into thinking that all the stuff Dr. Rabbit did was actually Gregory himself with no outside influence, only fueling her want for revenge, not only for the elevator incident, but everyone he hurt. This will affect Gregory greatly(he has not 100% recovered and this Does Not Help).

-Cassie still doesn't fully trust the Mimic, despite being under its influence. She let the M.X.E.S stay up after the 3 star family put it back up after Ruin despite Mimic's demands for her to shut it down again, assuring him it was "part of her plan". She wasn't entirely lying, shutting down the M.X.E.S was how she wanted to lure the family back, but she'd be lying if she said it wasn't also partially because she wanted to keep "that old endo" sealed away. He's not completely free from fault either.

-Gregory and Vanessa both have chips implanted in their heads, it's how Dr. Rabbit and Vanny took over way back when. Those same chips gave them VR vision, but the chips have since been "domesticated" and can't go full VR mode anymore. Despite this fact, they do still have a few side effects of the VR vision, such as some walls and objects simply not existing, despite them looking perfectly normal and real. They can phase through them without trouble, and this helps them navigate the Balloon Circus, becauseeeeeee;

-Cassie was there during the construction of the circus and set up VR walls in certain spaces to help her hide out and travel around undetected, even during the day. The 3 star family can also use these now as an easier way of navigating through the circus, but also as a way to hide from the mascots and even sometimes the Balloon Babies.

-The entrance to the underground levels is behind a VR wall, but it's one set up by the construction workers so the patrons wouldn't notice it. The reason an intentional opening is there is because the new entrance is now used as a dumping ground for stuff from random items from the ruins of the Pizzaplex to unused stuff from the circus to anything the employees with access to the area want to throw in there. It's how the ruined Glamrocks ended up there.

-The Glamrocks were being slowly reintroduced to the public, the biggest attraction so far being 'Chica of the Sea', a tent for the underwater hologram show of a prerendered mermaid Glamrock Chica that would swim around, wave at guests, and do a few preset moves that employees could turn on whenever. There's hints of them wanting to reintroduce the others as well that haven't been shown off to the public yet, with the new roles being; Glam Freddy and Bonnie are the co-ringmasters of the main tent where the mascots performances are held, making sure everything runs smoothly. Roxanne is the mascots and glamrocks make up artist, as well as offering to do make up/face paint for any patrons that came by her tent (for a price, of course). And Monty would roam around the circus grounds as a strongman showing off his incredible strength. He also has a tent for this, but he was mostly supposed to roam around and sometimes try and make people swing by his tent, mostly so they would buy his merch.

-Chica being the first to be reintroduced has an effect on her character below ground, with her hearing the news and trying her best to dress herself up in whatever scraps she could find to look like her mermaid counterpart, practicing her singing and dancing despite her condition so she could prove that she could be just as good as the hologram if she just got a few repairs.

-Roxanne is headless, having lost her head in her tussle with the Mimic. But she still has control of both her body and head, carrying around her decapitated head in her arms.

-Vannie/Cassie cares about Goldie soso much that's her new bestie<33 Friendship ended with Gregory, Goldie is new best friend<3 (I'm so sorry Gregory)

-Vannie is also known as Vengeful Vannie, but usually shortened to just 'Vannie'. A callback to the "Vengeful Spirit" aka Cassidy, because I think the parallels between the two are neat<3 (THIS MEANS NOTHING LORE WISE IT'S JUST A NAMING THING.)

-Some of the stuff at Balloon Circus was bought from the carnival mentioned to be across the street from the Pizzaplex in the TFTPP epilogues, and rebranded to fit with the new Fazbear theming

I wanna talk more about these guys later- not sure what else exactly to do with them, but if anybody has any questions then feel free to send 'em to my inbox! I'll be more than happy to reply to the best of my abilities<3

#my art #Chipillustrates #fnaf #fnaf fanart #fnaf AU #fnaf Balloon Circus #Fnaf Welcome to Balloon Circus #Fnaf Freddy #Fnaf Chica #Fnaf Bonnie #Fnaf Foxy #Fnaf Cassie #Fnaf Vanny #Fnaf Vannie #Fnaf Vanessa #Fnaf Gregory #Fnaf Glamrock Freddy #Five nights at Freddys #Five nights at Freddys AU #Fnaf 3 star family #3 star family #Five nights at Freddys fanart #Five nights at Freddy's #put in a lot of silly little details with the 3 star fam + a few with Cassie<3 I had fun with these goobs #also Gregory and Cassie are about 14 here and Vanessa is around 24 #not super important but I just felt like calling it out

[this-insidious-dawn]

This Insidious Dawn is a dark fantasy IF wherein you play as a vampire, employed under the clandestine League of the Third God to hunt down anything -- everything - that does not belong in this world. But you do not belong here either, Warden. Demo tba.

☼ SYNOPSIS

The League saved you. Rewrote your life- gave you a chance to be more than a bloodstarved vampyr. Or did they?

You remember nothing of your past before the League; nothing but blood and indescribable agony, nothing but the thrumming of your heart stilling- and then beginning again, stilted and wrong. That was over a decade ago, the memories now faint and the connection quivering. They've been replaced, overwritten by years of blades clashing, body aches, and hollow hunger.

You started out weak. Starving, skin-and-bones, desperate for any reprieve you could get your hands on. Now, you're strong, each hunt -- each cut - giving you just enough energy to keep your worn body going. Some people would call it cruel, to keep a sentient being on the edge of death. Most people, though, would say that you're a vampire, so you hardly count as sentient.

Regardless of the morality of it, the method was effective. You were one of -- no, the most - efficient Warden the League had to offer.

And then a hunt went wrong. And now you're dead. But- a vampire (no, not a vampire; a vampyr) can never truly die. So you're back. But is it really you?

☼ FEATURES

↠ Customize your Warden. Appearance, gender, pronouns, and personality are all up to your choices as the player.

↠ This is a psychological horror first and foremost. It will have themes of dehumanization and derealization, amongst others. CWs will be offered.

↠ A character-driven plot where your choices impact the story.

↠ A cast of four consisting of The Acolyte, The Commander, The Savior, and The Forgotten, any of which you can optionally romance no matter your Warden's gender.

☼ CAST

↠ THE ACOLYTE

As with any vampire, you are accompanied by an acolyte to keep you in check and ensure that your hunts go well- as well as to mend any Gorges that riftspawn might crawl out of. Constantine Nimecidus fills this role, in your case (ae/aer). Ae is sharp-tongued, with a chronic lack of patience towards the people and world around aer, and can come across as snappy or rude. In other instances still, aer sarcastic, dry, and often untimely humor can offer a quick relief from the tension of any situation- or make it several times worse. Despite aer casual, laidback nature in the face of most events, ae places utmost importance on aer job, and quickly becomes intense whenever ae feels as if ae or aer position are being in any way threatened. You've spent years going on hunts with aer at this point, but the connection has never transcended the necessary 'I save you, you save me' exchange. Ae seems wary of you.

Constantine is a bit shorter than most, standing at 5'3. Ae has broad shoulders and hips, and is thickset with both muscle and fat. Aer amber skin is dappled with symmetrical pale patches, especially prevalent around aer eyes and mouth, and the lack of pigmentation has bled into aer hair in some spots, giving the dark auburn eye-catching streaks of white. Said hair is curly and cut shorter along the sides than the back is, and ae spends an awful lot of time preening it. Aer eyes are a striking, slightly luminescent bronze, and aer pupils appear instead of black as molten gold, shifting slightly in color to match aer emotions at any given moment. Ae has full lips and slightly upturned, monolid eyes. Ae favors shades of brown, tan, and orange in aer outfit, and ae near-constantly dons a rich red capelet with fur trimming around the hood.

↠ THE COMMANDER

Ex-commander of the Serpent's Guard-turned vampire. You'd personally never had a run-in with Alvaros Vepir until just recently (he/him). He's gruff, jaded, and withdrawn- exactly what you'd expect out of the man who gave his life for his queen only to nearly die (again) for it. It's hard to say, though, how much of his time as the commander he truly remembers. Alvaros is a poet's dream, the hero in an epic-turned-tragedy. He keeps everybody at arm's length, never allowing them to learn more than what the stories and theatrics tell of him. This is especially true of you- the vampire who was sent to reign him in, turn him from a rogue vampyr into a soldier of the League. Despite his emotional avoidance of you, though, he seems quite interested in you. Maybe it's the fact you're one of the few to have bested him in combat. Maybe it's just that 'vampiric charm' that old legends tell about (but that never seems to work outside of fights). Maybe it's because he remembers you.

Alvaros is intimidating in every manner. He stands at 6'4, his whole body is lean and scarred, and the black sclerae encircling dark green irises certainly does him no favors in lessening the effect. Before you were dispatched to retrieve him, you couldn't have said what he looked like; as the commander, he'd worn the veil regular of high-ranking members of the Serpent's Ring, leaving nothing but the back of his head exposed. Now, you know of his face well enough that you could probably recognize him in a crowd. With fawn skin dotted by freckles, hooded eyes, and a distinctive hooked nose, Alvaros is exactly what one would expect of a native of southern Ghel- save for his hair. Instead of the expected brown or black, his hair is a muddy blonde, and it has slight waves that turn into full curls at the tips. He maintains it short, never reaching past his chin. His face is scarred (his everything is, really), with a particularly nasty gash reaching from his left eyebrow down to his right jaw. It just barely misses his right eye.

↠ THE SAVIOR

An acolyte? You think so, anyways. Suri Revlece is the woman who saved you (she/her). You don't know whether or not she's even with the League, but she certainly looks like an acolyte. You don't know what she was doing there, either, but she seems willing to answer any of your questions while you recover- as long as they aren't personal. She's kind enough, but seems a little...off. She's finicky, always looking over her shoulder. She's running from something, but she doesn't seem to know what. She appears to believe that she and you have some type of camaraderie, although you've never met. But there's something to be said for the sheer strength of her magic- you've never seen an acolyte's shimmer burn a riftspawn like that. Never seen one with an eye glowing that bright, either. She's an anomaly- one that you're sure the headman at your partner's spire would be more than glad to have amongst their ranks, but then the mere idea of it had her denying it with vehemence. It seems like she has a history with it.

Suri has a mesmerizing look to her. The deep brown of her skin, near-black of her hair, and dark garb are contrasted with bright pops of color. One eye is a brightly glowing orange, the pupil nearly white, and the other is a misty grey, its almond shape deformed by the burn scars warping the left side of her face. That dark hair, braided and reaching down to about her hips, is decorated by light brown and gold beads engraved with runes that seem to serve to channel her magic. Her frame is lanky and she's long-limbed, reaching just above what most would think of as an 'average height', at 5'8. Below a brown leather cloak, more runed jewelry decorates her wrists and fingers, and her hands are tattooed in shades of bronze. The burn upon her face is not the only such injury she has suffered; her palms are burnt the slightest bit, and similar scars wrap around her arms. She has a broad nose and thick heart-shaped lips, and light stubble sits above the top lip.

↠ THE FORGOTTEN

You don't know who they are anymore. Who are they? (he/they/she)

A shadowy form, the silhouette of a memory. There's something not quite right about them. What have they become?

☼ LINKS

Demo - tba

Other blogs - @azraels-bad-choices (main IF blog) and @a-firsthand-murder-ballad (other project)

#interactive fiction #writing #interactive novel #if wip #twine game #if intro #this insidious dawn if

[thefreakandthehair]

my fiance asked me this morning if "the shirt with the face on it" was dirty when it fell out of the hamper on the stairs. the shirt was my sublime tee shirt lmao. so, I've decided to take that interaction and make it steddie. also projecting my current fight against spring here, too. fluffy domesticity. enjoy!

It's Sunday. Otherwise known as Laundry Day.

Eddie groans and hefts the hamper up into his arms, trekking it downstairs to the laundry room off of the kitchen. Bandit nearly trips him on the fourth step but he saves the basket from tumbling, as well as himself, and sets about tossing everything in the machine.

"How do two people end up with so much goddamn laundry?" He mumbles to himself, sighing as he realizes it's another two-load week. Laundry isn't a task that typically falls to Eddie, but with Steve being attacked by every bit of pollen and ragweed an Indiana spring can produce, he offers to take over.

And by offers, he just does it. Even with one eye swollen, a raw nose, and a pocketful of tissues because he can't go more than five minutes without blowing his nose, Eddie knows that Steve will still try to push himself. Over the years they've known each other, he knows better than to ask or offer. He knows to just do.

As the first load spins and rinses, Eddie sets about making coffee and plops himself at the small, standalone island next to the window. Yellow daffodils planted by the previous owners of the house are starting to pop up along the walkway to the back deck, there are tiny green buds on the previously bare shrubs, and the sky is bright blue, expanding undisturbed into the distance as far as the eye can see. It'd be a beautiful sight, if only all of those blooms weren't to blame for the sneezing he hears from upstairs.

He loves spring, but he loves Steve more, and he's mad at the daffodils for making his boyfriend suffer.

Eddie transfers the clean laundry into the dryer and refills the washer with the second load when he hears tell-tale sniffling approaching him.

"Hey," a nasally voice appears behind him. "Is this shirt with the angel on it dirty? Think it fell outta the basket."

"What shirt with an angel on it?" Eddie asks, closing the lid to the machine and pushing Start. When he turns, he sees Steve wrapped in one of Eddie's well-worn black hoodies with holes in the sleeves for his thumbs and equally worn-in sweatpants. His hair is limp, his face is blotchy, and his lips are slightly ajar to accommodate for not being able to breathe through his nose. It's a sight almost pitiful enough for Eddie to forget what he'd just asked. Until he sees the shirt in question.

"This one," Steve holds it up before handing it over.

"Shirt with an ang—" Eddie laughs under his breath, staring down at the Led Zeppelin tee-shirt he'd been gifted by Wayne what feels like a lifetime ago. He just shakes his head and pauses the washer to toss it in.

"You're lucky you're cute." He smiles, pulling Steve into a hug.

Steve lets himself be held and wraps his arms around Eddie's waist, nestling his nose into the warmth of Eddie's shoulder. He grumbles something that sounds like shut the fuck up against his skin in jest, but Eddie chooses to ignore it.

Instead he simply kisses the side of Steve's temple and guides him to the kitchen island.

"Let's get you some breakfast, and maybe another Claritin."

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stfic #myblurbs #another entry into my own personal 'eddie likes led zeppelin' canon

[touchlikethesun]

how i think different hq couples get engaged

kageyama and hinata are dating and living together for over a decade before they get engaged. there's just always something more pressing going on - usually their pro-volleyball careers - and they're both just so content with how their relationship is, marriage just seems kind of like an unnecessary hassle and a logistical nightmare that neither of them want to deal with. once they reach their 30s though, and they've both settled a bit more into their careers, i can see one of them casually proposing one day - they don't even have rings - because at this point, they both know they are going to spend the rest of their lives together, why not make mrs. hinata happy and make it official. plus, a wedding is an excuse to get together with all their friends again. when they buy their rings, they buy chains at the same time so they can still wear their rings on the court.

tsukishima and yamaguchi get engaged a lot earlier than kghn, i think they get engaged a year after they both graduate from undergrad. tsukki bought yams' engagement ring in their second year at uni after saving up basically since they got together in high school, but he waited to propose until after they lived and worked "in the real world," just in case yamaguchi found someone better or if their relationship changed when they didn't have school as an excuse to see each other all the time (kei eventually admits this to tadashi years down the line and tadashi scolds him - the efficacy being undercut by the kisses he gives kei at the same time - for ever thinking their relationship was so fragile). obviously yamaguchi was over the moon when tsukki proposed, and takes to calling him "his fiance" at every chance he gets. they wait to actually have a wedding until after tsukki has finished his masters, and they've both started working, so that they can actually enjoy the event with as little stress as possible

iwaizumi and oikawa get engaged around their mid-20s as well. i think oikawa is the kind of person that has had their whole life planned out in a scrapbook since they were 10, and he knows exactly when and how he planned to propose to iwa, so when iwaizumi beat him to the punch - an evening complete with a romantic dinner in a jazz cafe that iwa scouted for the occasion, roses, and a walk to the playground where they first met where upon iwa finally got down on one knee - tooru was so shocked and generally overcome with emotion that he burst into tears and forgot to say yes until hours later, when iwaizumi asked him again after many kisses and sweet words. ofc, after the shock has worn off, Oikawa Tooru's Dream Wedding Plans are back on, and iwa lets him take over planning the most elaborate and expensive wedding japan has ever seen

(for my bkak headcanon see this post i made a few days ago lol)

xx

#i notice a trend in who i think proposes lmaooooo #was not intentional #tsukki has to propose bc even if they both know they want to get married tsukki is the one that has to make the step to me #and i think iwa has to propose bc tooru's always the one romantic gestures and iwa proposing shows tooru that A iwa can still surprise him #and B that he is worth going all out for #why proposal headcanons?? idek #if people are interested i can give my ideas for some other pairings #but most of the other pairing i like also involve one of the six (8 if you count bkak) characters listed and it seemed to clash #like oihina tsukihina yamayachi oikage krtsk actually bakt(all permutations) akaosa too #and i didn't get into some other smaller ships like arankita or ushiten #but i am not opposed to going on i kinda just want it to be a separate post for clarity #kagehina #kageyama tobio #hinata shouyou #tsukkiyama #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #iwaoi #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #haikyuu

[iron-sparrow]

Whew, had to think about this one for several days. Hope you like these Yein Facts™ and don't forget to LIKE & SUBSCRIBE for more daily Yein content.

Many warm thanks to @sparrowsong-7 @lilbittymonster @thefreelanceangel @bunnyboybosom and @sealrock for the tags! ₊˚⊹♡

B A S I C S

Name: Yein Que-Sae/Yein of Iron

Nicknames: Iron, Sparrow, Little Sparrow, Little Bird, Chompers

Age: Somewhere between 35 and 40, they think?

Nameday: 32nd Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon

Race: Duskwight Elezen

Gender: None

Orientation: All

Profession: Free paladin ⛊ and also professional lover

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C T S

Hair: Magpie

Eyes: Amber (damaged: citrine)

Skin: Iron gray

Tattoos/Scars: No tattoos, but they are covered in a lot of scar tissue. A lot of it is actually prominently displayed on their face; decorating their cheeks, cutting over one eye, and removing some of their lip to expose a bit of teeth. Their body has a number of scars earned through years of combat before their first death, plus torture marks clustered over their back.

They will also paint their face when they explore the Shroud, to hide from Elementals.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Eun Que-Sae † and Shiofrex Maz-Yeh †

Siblings: Their twin brother, Sacheo Maz-Yeh

Grandparents: Unknown †

In-laws and Other: Their little found family consists of their partners Nolanel and Derrinall, and a little fae creature calling herself Dinky Dinky. They also consider their mentee Odette to be family.

Pets: They care for sparrows due to spiritual/religious reasons, but they don't actually see or keep these as pets.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Yein is a stone-wielding paladin, so they do have some abilities based on the PLD class (through fancy aether manipulation). They can also see the dead, and communicate more meaningfully with said dead people via rituals.

Hobbies: Sparring, writing poetry, collecting books (with mostly illustrations), foraging the woods, tending to their hidden shrines, and doing various forms of physical exercise ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Their big, big heart! They make sure to leave space for everyone they meet.

Most Negative Trait: Often thinks they know best. Also, they're pretty stubborn.

L I K E S

Colors: Gold, black, and bright reds

Smells: Burnt wood, fresh soil, Ul'dah after heavy rains, curry on the stove, and most flowers ❀

Textures: Silk and loose linens, worn leather, cool tile on bare feet

Drinks: Black iced coffee, Gridanian whiskey

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Eh? Not cigarettes, but see "Drugs" below.

Drinks: Yep! Not as much as they used to, but they like a tasty beverage.

Drugs: Only sometimes, and only if the grass is really good.

Mount Issuance: They have a loyal chocobo, Arbiter. He was bred for the Thanalan heat and served as a very good companion to Yein in life. When they died, Arbiter was found by Sacheo searching the place where Yein was last seen/killed.

Been Arrested: Yes! They were briefly held as a political prisoner while still serving the Sultana, prior to the Calamity. Shockingly, they've managed to stay out of Gridanian gaols.

₊˚⊹♡ Tagging @prudentfolly @this-is-ris @nolanel-corbeaux, @guillotine-of-the-snake @justatheo @archaiclumina @chadhunkler @abyssalmermaiden Very sorry if you've already been tagged! (•ᴗ•,, ) I tried to avoid duplicates.

#tag game #ffxiv rp #oc basics #duskwight #elezen #yein my beloved #hope you enjoy the Yein lore! #also tagged ppl with alts #no pressure as always #this was another excuse to pose them #thank you Pigeon for PROFESSIONAL LOVER #open invite to all #I wanna learn about all ur OCs

[bruciemilf]

Watching the last of us currently and I believe the " Grumpy bastard who's slowly been robbed of hope meets snarky kid who's the incarnation of sunshine" trope fits Clark and Kon so well

Jon too! I mean, just this motherfucker

Meeting a kid who's like him? Immune?

"...I knew Lex was crazy but this," he gestures to the whole of Kon, to the everything around him, " This? Is the worst crime he ever did. "

Kon bites both his cheeks, too slim and too pale and too worn out for a fourteen year old. There's pieces of Clark that scar him. His anger, for one. Only thing keeping them warm anymore, " Are you talking about me or you?"

" I'm not you,"

" That's your issue!"

" Claaaaark?"

" Not now Jonny,"

" Yeah Jon, just let him finish yelling at me about how much of a mistake I am!"

" Mistakes are something unintentional, Conner; You? are a bad decision," and he feels guilty as soon as he says it. He hates it; Hates it that he's meaner, sharper. That Kansas boy with sunshine in his hair wouldn't have talked to anyone like that.

But that Kansas boy died when the world did.

" Clark! It's really important!"

Clark bites his tongue. He already yelled at a goddam teenager, he won't yell at the toddler, too. " What -- What, buddy?"

Jon's tiny finger points to a little town, " There's light in there!" Kon doesn't wait for him, and it's not like Clark expected anything different.

They haven't grown closer since Metropolis, since their feet were scraped by walking endlessly, since they've been saving eachother's lives more often than they should've.

Clark sighs as he watches him go, Jon In his arms and a loaded gun over his shoulder, " No, Jonny, don't touch that. It's bad," He says, gently grabbing the kid when that tiny little hand tries to grab the barrel. He knows Jon'll have to use one soon.

Clark just hopes he won't be around to see it.

Let them meet Jason and Bruce when Kon and Jason literally try to maul eachother,

" Kon!" There's a ball of limbs and reds and dark hair tangled together, feral and angry, mangled like two angry snakes clutching at eachother, " is he bit?!"

" I don't care!"

Crack.

Kon isn't immune to broken noses.

The building they're in is big, like everything else in the city, but slightly more titanic, more towering. Darker and brighter all of the same. The echoing of, " Jason," frames that better, traveling through the hardwood floor and walls.

"... Oh, fuck, we're in Gotham. "

" Whats Gotham?"

Jason, who's beside Bruce, now, -- The Bruce Wayne, thought hardly anyone could tell under those bruises and scars and dark smudges dripping down his diamond jawline, -- snarls,

" How the fuck do you not know what Gotham is, dipshit? What, you've been born yesterday?"

Bruce's hands squeeze at his shoulders, slightly rounder and fuller in frame than Kon's. That was expected. Everyone bleeds in the apocalypse, but no one bleeds the same, " Jason. Language."

" Last year, actually,"

"...Holy fuck," Jason gasps when Jon wiggles around, an action Bruce mimicsm, "Holy shit. That's a baby. I haven't seen a baby in years. Bruce, do you,--"

Bruce is already advancing, taking steps, not brave but not cowardly. He hands Kon a handkerchief for his bleeding nose, but there's no breaks in his and Jon's eye contact.

A stare of wonder. Fright, but wonderful. "... Hi, honey. My name is Bruce. What's your name?"

Jon's been hiding his face in Clark's neck until Bruce talked, just as scared of other human beings as Clark was, but shyness dies quickly with him. " Hi! "

" His name's Jon," Clark says, " he'll be six next week." God. He'll be six. He doesn't know. He has to pretend to know or he'll go crazy. Bruce nods. His hand is held out, " May I?"

He asks Jon if he wants to, and of course he says yes. Who doesn't want to be loved at world's funeral? Jon and Bruce cuddle in the middle of nowhere, and they're left to stare.

" Jason, show Kon the bathroom, please. And you're welcome to a shower if you'd like. But no guns," his tone is final, and Clark doesn't mind munch. He doesn't rely on them for survival.

Kon does find it weird, " Where do you keep yours, then?"

"I don't like guns."

"Then how'd you kill sickos till now?"

" We don't kill them."

" Speak for yourself," Jason mutters, pinching Jon's cheek on his way upstairs, " How slow are you, freak?"

" Not slower than you, creep!"

Clark watches. It's nice. To see him be a kid.

He turns to Bruce, unsure, skeptical, all he ever is these days, " You seriously don't kill them? Not any of them?"

" There's enough death around, Mr. Kent. I refuse to contribute. Besides. Aren't we all dead already?" Clark hums. He doesn't know how to answer that. Watching Bruce kiss Jon's cheeks is easier.

It's human.

#really there's lots more options for this au!! clark and bruce travelling together as an established relationship and collecting the kids #one by one!! ' dont look at me like that bruce we're not picking up another one' '' We. Are. clark. Joseph. kent.'' ''...yeah we are'' #clark kent #bruce wayne #kon kent #conner kent #jon kent #jason todd #alternative universe #tlou au #superbat #dc #dc comics #batman #text post #text

[loveandleases]

-Happy Birthday M -

Looking through the terminal, over the vast amount of people busily walking about, you try to spot M's parents.

You've only seen them twice before, so surely you remember what they look like. At least, you hope so. Scanning for several more minutes you hear two voices yell your name simultaneously.

Turning toward your left you see both of M's moms, each smiling as they speed up to bring you in for a hug. Sybil's shoulder-length blonde hair brushes against your cheeks. You forgot how tall she was when you saw her over the holidays. M's birthmother Marianne, rubs your back gently and hugs you from the side. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose bun, her skin a similar shade to M's, and the same honey-toned eyes. When she smiles you can't help but notice the deep wrinkles that form beside them, holding years of laughter and worry for her only child within them.

"Sorry, I'm a bit late. I was making sure to have your rooms ready for tomorrow." You reach for their bags, with Sybil shaking her head and heading on out. Marianne smiles and hands you her carry-on.

The drive to the hotel is quick, each going over how the flight was. Catching up on months of not seeing one another.

"They've been up all night, finishing a final draft for the editor. I don't even think they knew I left."

You hear Sybil laugh as soon as Marianne starts to sigh heavily. "You would think they would at least take some time off before their birthday." Sybil pats Marianne on the back, assuring her that M will be fine.

You smile at yourself, knowing that M has no idea you've been out and about. Picking up their parents to surprise them over their birthday lunch. They also have no idea that sitting at the very bottom of their bed, under the blanket they keep on a bench sits the one collectible they have been pining for since you two had become friends, and eventually more than that.

Walking back into your shared apartment you see M rubbing their eyes, swearing loudly, that is until they hear you walk over. M has tried to keep that swearing to a minimum. Yet sometimes that sailor's tongue gets the better of them, and honestly you as well.

"Where did you go?" M rubs their glasses along their oversized sweater. One with a large anime figure on the back, the first gift you gave them once you two had finally made things official. A sweater so worn the sleeves were starting to fray ever so slightly. The hem stretched from M's worrying grasp.

"Oh, just out. Looking at some of the holiday lights everyone has up. Just getting some ideas ya know?" You smile at them, in such a way they don't feel the need to question further. M knows you enjoy looking at the streets all lined up, especially after they've been freshly covered in snow.

"This is it. This is the last draft and then…"

You hear the gulp from where you're standing, M is always so nervous before finishing something. Their books, an interview, a list of things to remember to do. Yet this time, you were there to talk them down from their nerves.

"It's going to be amazing. You're amazing, so how could it not be? Don't worry. I'll be with you through it all." You sit on your knees in front of them, holding their hands. Hands that have caressed you in more ways than one, hands that have held you when you thought it impossible to get over your heartache. When you thought it impossible to move on. To someone who truly cares about you.

You notice the watery look in their eyes. M has always had a soft spot for you. Ever since the day you met. You reach to catch the tear but are stopped by M kissing along your jaw. A soft kiss, one of reassurance, and one of hunger. A hunger you knew well, a hunger that would just have to wait until M's parents went back home.

"Alright, time for bed. The story can wait, you have an early morning. It's going to be your birthday after all." Pulling M's hand and walking them to the bedroom they didn't bother to fight knowing very well that you would win this fight.

The following morning, you took M to a ramen shop. Their favorite stop when they were sad. Also, their favorite shop once they saw you eating there on break from work. In between their second order of Ramen, you notice their mothers walking toward the table.

It only took five minutes to get M unchoked from the noodle that lodged itself in their windpipe when Sybil peeked around their shoulder. Only fifteen minutes for M to stop crying shocked their mothers would make it knowing how busy they are. Even more so when they found out you had planned it all without them even noticing.

After hours of hanging out with Sybil and Marianne, and M promising profusely that he will work less in the future you two made your way back home.

M flops down on the armchair, happily eating the leftover cake that their mother sent home.

"Hey hun, do you want any befor.."

"No, go ahead and eat it! It's your birthday anyways!"

You walk back into the room, smiling at M as they lick the fork clean. The leftover chocolate ganache now a memory. "M?"

They turn to you brow quirked. Eyes widen as they notice the outfit you're wearing. "What the fuck….what are you…who….when did…"

You smile twirling in your costume. Not daring to let M miss a single piece of the cosplay you're wearing. "Do you like it?" You tilt your head slightly, noticing the blush peppering their cheeks. They nod furiously, blinking owlishly at you.

"Is…that…is…hmm. Did you get that for me?" They stand walking over to you, softly laying a hand on your side, letting the fabric bunch ever so slightly between their fingers.

You nod your response, looking up into those warm honey eyes. "That's not all." You slowly pull the gift out from behind your back. A one of a kind collector edition figure. One that M had talked themselves out of buying six different times that you know of.

"Wait! NO…no no no no.. You didn't, you couldn't have!" M doesn't know what to grab, you or the gift. Their eyes glanced back and forth.

You can't stop the giggle that comes out of your mouth, they look like a kid in a candy store. Though a happy one. "Happy birthday, M. I hope it's everything you wanted."

You can't help but gasp, as M begins to cry, shaking their head back and forth. "Oh no, did you no.." Your words are stopped, by the gentle kiss along your lips. Somewhat salty kiss at that.

"You're more than I could ever hope for. It's not the gift, not the outfit which I love by the way. It's you. Just you."

Happy birthday M.

#happy birthday #m #marshmallow #not my best but here we are #busy b #loveandleases #love and leases

[heliiacus]

a tight predicament

tags: eren x armin, sexual tension, yearly testing of ODM gear, takes place a year before the rumbling, Armin struggles, Eren helps

warnings: none!

words: 1.2k

There comes a time in every soldier's life where one must test the gear they've not worn in a long, long time. In Armin's case, the day comes with its own peculiar struggles - ones that Eren has to save him from.

"Armin."

It's quiet, the way he says it. Premonitory, almost. Before Armin can so much as breathe in answer, the man hears his steps; slow and careless, enclosing on him.

"I know," Armin huffs, hands twisting in the leather, this stark embarrassment swirling in his belly. His cheeks heat, and he turns his back to Eren, suddenly trying harder, quicker; but his hands betray him. "Don't ask," he says then, hearing no more steps. "I don't know. It's just been a while." And it has. It has been over a year, really, since he’d had to put on the gear in full earnest, and it has been a long year indeed; full of hard labour, and plentiful food, and incessant growth spurts all across his body.

He can barely believe it. He would not have, were it not for the fact that he is witnessing it all himself.

Eren, too. Right at his back.

And then Armin tries again, fingers grazing tightly against the straps. He works them carefully, the way he is supposed to, but they don't give to him with the same effortless ease he is used to. He manages one set, bit by bit; but the others fight him still.

He huffs again, chest tense. Back turned and neck warm, Armin wonders, quietly, if Eren is still watching; but he knows he is. It nearly makes his hands shake, bewildered at his own sudden ineptitude.

He tries again. As he works, one attempt, then another, he feels a pair of hands on his shoulders. Soft in their touch. Careful, almost. Armin's shoulders bunch in a tension beneath the weight, and Eren breathes a chuckle; then he tugs, mercilessly, at the mismanaged latches at his back.

"Let me help," the man tells him. He tugs again when Armin doesn't answer, and this time, this time he turns to him, sheepish and small in his frame. "What?"

"I don't know," Armin says demurely, giving into the heating in his skin. "I'm embarrassed. It hasn't been that long since.."

"But it has," Eren says flatly, and then he shakes his head at Armin. "It has," he repeats, turning Armin back around; hands, already, working swiftly at the unmanaged straps. "Besides," he continues, in a tone Armin can't quite read, "You've grown. You've grown a lot."

Armin hums, shoulders straight as he waits for Eren to fix the mess he had created.

"Come on," Eren says.

"What?"

"Stop doing that. Don't pout."

"I'm not pouting," the man retorts; he tries to turn to him, to deny Eren's insinuation eye to eye, but he finds himself held tight in place by the other man's hands.

"Yes, you are," he simply says, and Armin feels a latch come into its rightly place. "It's fine. You'll re-learn this. Don't you always?"

"I suppose." Another latch is fixed upright. "I'm just surprised."

"I told you it's cause you've grown," Eren repeats, his tone impassive. He tugs again, testing the hold, and they both hum at it feeling right. "I'll do the ones on your back now."

"Alright," Armin murmurs, chest tight once more; inexplicably, this time, and almost oddly so.

It strikes, with a suddenness, with what care Eren does this; with precision, almost – moreso than for his own gear, from what Armin has seen. He feels the man's hands graze at the latches, then at his lower back as he tugs on these, too; Armin finds his chest constrict at the touch, momentarily. His breath rattles, just a little, and his face heats again, and he wonders, quietly, if Eren had heard it.

He then feels, with an almost harrowing detail, as Eren begins to fix the latches: unleashing the strap, then pulling at it; winding tightly against his abdomen. Armin's hands flex involuntarily at the feel of it, restless at his sides. He can hear Eren mumble, kneeling firmly at his back, and he could hear the words, Armin thinks, were it not for this stark roar of blood in his ears.

Then he tugs. It's tight, and it is latched right; Armin feels that now with an almost odd sense of clarity. Then Eren's hands begin to work the one opposing it, and Armin wonders, almost absent-mindedly, if he is this slow on purpose. He near closes his eyes, easing his breathing into something, at the very least, resembling even. Then, as if feeling it; as if on cue, Eren tugs at the strap, and Armin gasps, and Eren's hands freeze.

They stay like this, for a moment; for an eternity, it feels like. Armin dare not look, and Eren, it seems, dare not speak. Time seems to stretch. Eren's hands, frozen and flush at his back, lay there unmoving; not even shaking.

Then, just like that, it all seems to thin out. Eren's hand presses, just slightly, into Armin's lower back; his knuckles brush against the thin shirt, into his flesh, and then his fingers finish the latch with a deftness. Precise still. Unshaking.

When it is done, in the absence of Eren's hands, Armin's back feels cold. He tries to look back to him; he does. But he can't. Instead, he looks steadfastly to the ground, stomach roiling in a tightness he can't quite parse through, and his heart beats, and beats, and beats.

Eren is quiet still. Just for now. Just for this. Then, just like that, Armin can hear his voice, spreading thin in a lulled murmur.

"Huh?" He finds himself squeaking, and he turns now, and he regrets it; their eyes meet, and Eren looks down at him, kneeling no longer. Armin nearly reels; he nearly stumbles, gaping at him with his lips pursed together tightly, and he tries, he tries to remember what the man had said to him, but all he can wonder in the moment is when, exactly, had the man managed to grow this much taller than him.

"Are you okay to do the straps on your legs?" Eren repeats, and Armin wonders if the words are rushed, or if it is his own ears failing still.

"Yes," he says with a swiftness, the word shooting out of him almost violently. "Yes, I can, thank you so much."

They stare then, at each other. Or he thinks that they do, at least; eyes wide and gaping at Eren, Armin stands stock-still and tries to ease his breathing, and Eren looks at him like this, something distinctly bewildered swirling in his gaze. This, too, seems to stretch and stretch, thinning into a strange sort of eternity; and this, too, seems to snap just as quickly. Eren, standing there, seems to bristle, then Armin sees him shake his head, just slightly; then he touches Armin's arm, the touch quick and fleeting and not at all what he had just touched him like.

"Hurry," he tells Armin, seeming strangely breathless, "Or they'll start without us."

"Right," Armin says, gaze lingering on the man. He watches as he leaves, one foot following the other – strict, and methodical, and not once does he turn back.

dividers by cafekitsune

#armin fanfiction #eren fanfiction #eremin #armin x eren #armin arlert #eren yeager #armin fluff #eren fluff #armin smut #eren smut #attack on titan #aot fluff #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #snk fluff #snk fanfiction #my writing

[archieimagines]

Imagine patching up Geralt after a hunt.

warnings: contains blood and injury! written by: jesse requests for Geralt and friends are open!

You've heard stories about witchers for as long as you can remember. The adventures they've had, the monsters they've slain, and the people they've saved. But also how unnatural they were, as no one was born a witcher but created. Whispers about how witchers are just like the monsters they kill would pop up in your village. 

You weren't sure what to believe until the day you met one. 

A very anxious bard had stumbled into your home carrying his silver hair friend with an arm struggling to support the other man's weight. If it weren't for the situation, you would've found it comical at the time. But as the village healer, you had gone to work, and from that day on, the White Wolf had been a recurring patient. 

Geralt of Rivia was the first and only witcher to come your way, but about every year or so, he'd come back with a new wound for you to patch up. You'd come to enjoy his company, and despite the talk of your village, he was certainly no monster. 

"Tell me, what was the beast that brought you to my home tonight?" You asked curiously, weaving your needle through the wound on the witcher's bare shoulder and carefully wiping away blood.

He craned his neck slightly, and his yellow eyes cut toward you. "A Bruxa. A kind of vampire that drains blood from men. They're always female."

You nodded without losing focus on fixing up his wound. "Sounds scary. Seeing that you're currently with me, I'd say you've killed the Bruxa. Though she got you pretty good, I don't think there'll be a scar." 

"Scars don't bother me."

"I'm aware. You've got plenty on you." You chuckled, motioning to the few on his toned back. From what you've observed over the years that you've known the monster hunter, Geralt had many variations scattered on his body. Some older and some fresher than others, but you could see that he was very battle worn. 

Geralt gave you a grunt in response just as you got in the last stitch. From every encounter you’ve had with him, it seemed that he had an excellent pain tolerance. You supposed that was due to his background as a witcher. 

"That should do it! You probably won't take my advice, but do take it easy with the hunting. I wouldn't want you to rip a stitch," You reached over to a shelf, grabbed a vial containing a blue liquid, and handed it to him. "Though this should help with any discomfort. Drink a small sip of this when any pain starts acting up." 

The witcher opened it and scrunched up his nose in disgust at the scent. "What's in it?" 

You put your hands on your hips and laughed. "Nothing that'll kill you, I promise." 

Geralt raised a brow at you before stuffing it into his trousers pocket. You shook your head at him and went over and plopped down in your chair, feeling your back relaxing after being hunched over sewing stitches in your patient. 

"You should stay the night," You advised, looking back over at him. "It's rather late out, and I'm sure both you and Roach are exhausted from your journey."

Geralt raised a brow, and a faint smirk appeared on his chiseled features. "I'm surprised you remembered his named."

"With a name like that for a horse? How could anyone forget," You snorted, lifting your feet on the stool before you. "Besides, I think we trust each other enough not to steal or kill each other in our sleep, hm?"

The silver-haired man paused in thought for a moment before nodding. "I'll take you up on that offer, but just the night." He assured, gabbing his shirt and pulled it over his head. 

Your eyes couldn't help but linger on his muscular build as he stretched. You've seen quite a bit of his physique, though never really looked. Blinking, you quickly averted your gaze and got up to your feet. 

You scolded yourself for thinking like that towards Geralt. He was your patient and a good friend. That isn't any way to behave.

"You can have my parents' room just down the hall. It's plenty suited for you, and I'm just across if your wounds reopen or you even lack sleep." You assured him with a smile.

Geralt returned the smile, and you felt your face flush but blamed it on the fireplace. "You're too kind."

"It's no trouble," You waved your hand and chuckled sheepishly, hoping not to humiliate yourself in front of him. "I'm only being a good healer and host. Have a good night, Geralt of Rivia,"

You nodded towards him, and the witcher left you to yourself with a returning gesture. You let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding, and wondered what had come over yourself just then.

#geralt imagine #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher imagine #the witcher x reader #witcher imagine #witcher x reader #requests open #written by jesse

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

They're up at Burnley and it's snowing; lightly at first, a dusting of white over grass through the second half that had them shivering in their kits as they slid mud-spattered across the pitch. They'd won thanks to the fucking Roy Kent effect, everyone except Jamie 'cause that'd require coach to actually, well, coach him. To look at a space with Jamie in it and act like he saw a person instead of nothing at all, and he used to wish he was invisible, back when he was a kid dodging fists and snarled words but now he wants to cry, just a bit, 'cause he really is trying and why can't Roy try too?

They're up at Burnley and it's snowing in huge fluffy white flakes as they board the coach and Jamie feels sick, sits in the aisle beside Sam who presses against the window, breath fogging on the glass.

"You know I'd love to give you all a day out in town to celebrate but it looks like it's gonna be a snow day for us, folks," Ted says, stood at the front of the bus with a broad smile under his moustache. They all groan and he chuckles, hands held out in front of him. "Hey, I don't make the weather — and boy, that would be something, wouldn't it? Give y'all a taste of Kansas summer instead of all this rain you've got going on. Or snow, at the moment. Anyhow, we'll make our own fun, won't we boys?"

"It's barely even snowing," Zoreaux grumbles.

Jamie hurries off the coach, ready to crawl under the blankets and draw the curtains where he can't see any of it and he's halfway to the hotel entrance when he realizes Sam isn't with him. Turns and finds him with his face turned up in the middle of the carpark with snow dusted on his hair and his jacket and melting on his skin.

"It's very beautiful," he says softly. Jamie trudges back towards him and there's a look on his face he's never seen before, all wondering and open and in that moment with icy water trickling through his hair and his fingers frozen stiff in his pockets, Jamie thinks everything in his life has been worth it for this moment, watching Sam's face as he watches the snow.

Beside them, Dani kneels to scoop up a handful and yelps, shaking out his hands, pouting with betrayal. "And very cold!"

"You gotta wear gloves, mate," Jamie says. He knocks his shoulder against Dani and Dani knocks back.

"But it looks so soft!"

Inside, Ted leads them to the conference centre instead of up to their rooms and they sit in a circle on the floor, coaches and all. Jamie ends up huddled between Sam and Dani, arms looped over each other's shoulders, two lads who've never seen snow before in their lives and Jamie who has but the cold worms into him more than it does the others, never mind how Isaac teases him that he should be tougher, northern lad that he is.

There are eyes on him, a tiger watching from the brush. Jamie glances up and it's Roy, eyes dark and hard and searching and it's the first time they've met eyes since he returned, maybe ever. Jamie breaks first. Stares down at the carpet instead — ugly fucking thing, pilly and brown and worn out. They're a Championship League team now; can't afford the good hotels any longer. A year ago he'd've thrown a fit, quit in a huff to somewhere that deserved him like he might have done when Ted became gaffer if he hadn't had City to go back to. Only it turned out Richmond had made him too soft to handle Manchester and all that came with it. He'd made it twelve years with dad hanging over his head and then broke after barely a handful of months, huddled in his bathroom with blood in his teeth, told his agent he'd take whatever as long as it was far away.

The door crashes open and it's Zoreaux, back from raiding the hotel bar 'cause Ted wouldn't let him out no matter how much he insisted it weren't a proper snowstorm and the bartender let him buy by the bottle now half the guests who were supposed to come up had cancelled. Pass it around like they had at the curse fire and Jamie still feels stupid for that, a little, spilling his guts everywhere only to be sent back, but part of him wants to try again, just to test.

He hasn't drunk much since he got back, not much appeal in it after dad's drunken rages and the constant refills of neon-coloured cocktails on Lust Conquers All, but he drinks now, both hands wrapped around the bottle of vodka — not vanilla, the regular kind — when it comes his turn, warmer and warmer from the heat of their palms with each round. Sam's slung half over his shoulders and every few seconds he giggles at nothing and Dani says, "what is it, amigo?" and Sam says, "I don't know!" and it just makes him laugh harder. Jamie shoves playfully at his chest — "Right in my ear, mate? Really?" — and they both overbalance so the window stretches above them, one of those long thin floor-to-ceiling things. Looks up at the snow spiralling through the flat white of the sky and like this he can almost feel the cold bite of it on his face, the melting weight of it on his clothes as the water trickles down over his skin.

"I got lost in a snowstorm, once," he says, dreamily. Someone else is talking but they go silent at his voice and that's got to be on the list of prick shit he's not supposed to do, probably, to keep Ted from booting him off the team again, but he can't shove the words back inside now.

"Oh yeah?" Ted asks. "I didn't know y'all got those over here. Sounds like one heck of an experience, Jamie."

He shrugs against the carpet. "Not really. I was s'posed to drive for my da, right, 'cause his usual guy was being a fucking little bitch about it and didn't want to drive in the snow—" that's how dad had put it on the phone when Jamie got called into the principal's office, said his da was on the phone with a family emergency— "and I'd never even been to the fucking neighbourhood, right, so by the time I went and got the car off his mate and his mate gave me this whole fucking stupid lecture about not crashing or getting caught and shit and found the place it was a proper white-out, and my dad had been hanging around so long with this like, massive fucking TV that someone'd called the cops so I just fucking drove off, right? 'Cept I'd never driven in snow before so we got stuck in a ditch and me da sent me out to..." he blinked, bleary with drink. "Dunno. To find someone to tow us or some shit. But I didn't know where the fuck I was and I couldn't see shit so I just walked around 'til I found the road again, and by then dad had got himself unstuck and left, and the buses weren't running so I had to walk home." It's not really a bad story but his heart's pounding all the same and the room's gone quiet. He scratches harder at the carpet; tries to laugh but it comes out strangled and faint. "Good exercise at least, yeah?"

No one says anything, still. The carpet comes up in tufts; he piles them together like he used to do as a kid picking at grass during a fire drill. It's his turn with the vodka again, handed over by a solemn-faced Dani, and he takes a long pull. The alcohol calms the frantic buzz beneath his skin, leaves him tired and heavy and warm, the silence comforting instead of worrying.

After a while, Ted clears his throat. There's a funny tilt to his smile. "Hey, I love me a silver lining. Thanks for sharing that, Jamie," he says, strained. Maybe the cold's got him sick, or maybe it's just the way the floor's spinning that's making him look funny. Jamie flops onto his back.

"Uh-huh. Sure thing, coach."

"It is very stupid to volunteer your criminal history like that," Jan Maas says.

"'S not a crime to drive the getaway car," Jamie says.

"Pretty sure it is, bruv," Isaac says.

"Huh."

"Don't worry, Jamie Tartt! We will not tell anyone!" Dani says, very loudly or else very close to his ear. There's a general murmur of agreement.

"Thanks, amigo. I won't tell anyone 'bout your crimes, neither," Jamie says. "Not that I'm saying you've done crimes and that. But if you have. Unless it's like, murder, maybe. But if you murdered someone they probably deserve it so also not then." He holds up his fist; Dani bumps it on the second try.

"You cannot break a pact made during a snowstorm," Sam says wisely.

"I still can't believe you guys think this is a real snowstorm," Zoreaux says, and Jamie drifts off to a vivid description of the horrors of Montreal in winter.

He blinks awake to find the lads shuffling back to their rooms and Roy crouched over him with his giant fucking caterpillar eyebrows scrunched. The position can't be any good on his knee but Jamie's trying not to get in fights with the coaches so much this season so he doesn't say anything. Roy doesn't, either. He blows out a sigh like one of those panthers Jamie'd seen at the zoo with mummy way back when he was a kid, mouth working like he's trying to force himself to speak.

"Your dad's a piece of shit," he says. "You don't have to find a silver lining." And then he hauls Jamie to his feet and fucking dusts off the carpet lint with the sleeve of his jacket like Jamie's his seven-year-old niece. "You played fine today. Next time you can be fucking great, but first you need to get the fuck out of your head and be more aggressive."

Jamie breaks into a grin. "Aye aye, coach."

#behold the fruits of my poor time management skills #“it's not a crime to drive the getaway car” comes from my mom's cousin who got arrested for... driving the getaway car #jamie tartt #sam obisanya #dani rojas #ted lasso fanfic #kvetch oc

[cobwebliss]

Alright, the new episode. I haven't talked about new episodes in like two years. Back then I was on Twitter. How things have changed.

One thing hasn't changed. Parker, how many times have you worn that exact same shirt in these videos? Is that your favorite shirt or something?

Oh, also, the hand gestures. Those haven't gone anywhere.

At least he's still leaving his hair longish.

Thank you for asking the question we all had, Chester.

He's obviously trying to look like a psychologist or something. However, I appreciate it as a more general "This is how an intellectual dresses" vibe. I have a history of trying to write intellectual Parker (White Noise, Stars Shining) so this fits well for me.

Slightly annoyed honestly, the new fic I'm working on starts with a dive into psychology a bit and now I feel like it's gonna look like I was trying to rip off this episode.

Pretty sure we've seen him in glasses somewhere before though.

Okay, the little Beauty and the Beast sign is cute.

I legit think that Caleb might have been Chester in a wig. He sounds like him, has a similar body shape, etc. They purposely blur his face when he turns to look at Parker in the next shot. Of course, that might just be to hide the horrible vomit effect but still, why do we never see his face? Usually they show their faces.

Everything about this scene. The way Parker's hair is weird and kinda styled like he was trying to avoid getting the gunk on him. The way his glasses are somehow spotless yet he still takes a moment to clean them. The way he thinks this is vomit but is just totally fine with it. Would you just stand there calmly if somebody just threw up on your face? Also, does this count as blackface?

Pretty certain she only invited them over because she wanted to bang Parker and you know what? Good for her. Go for it girl.

I appreciate the extra detail that this bed is the nicest, cleanest bed they've had on the show. They could have just made it generically gross like the other beds but no, they wanted to make sure we all saw how spotless Chester's bed was when he lied to Parker.

I love that this is the smallest bed yet but Parker sleeps like a legit vampire.

Pretty sure they just had Beetlejuice in their house.

Thank you for catering towards my choking kink once more guys.

Unfortunately, no marks left on his throat this time.

The way they seem to go out of their way to show her barefoot just to stick her in these random heels in bed? Was she trying to seduce Parker with her bare feet? Or did she put on the heels before bed in case he came back and took her up on her offer?

And lastly, the apparently broken clock:

#life of luxury #there's a reason it has the initials LOL #spoilers I guess #as if we don't all know what is going to happen

[alexturne]

I'm having a lot of thoughts and idk if I've fully thought it all out, but I needed to get it down and try to work out how I feel about it all..

I genuinely don't think this whole "discourse" is what's happening. I'm sure they just really wanted to do the whole bit with the strings and that's all.

Nothing to do with Alex and Miles being less close than they once were. Nothing to do with their relationship being less profound than it has always been. They're super important people in each other's lives and there comes a point when you've been that for someone for so long that it no longer requires constant reconfirmation. Their friendship is so solid, so deeply rooted within them both, that they don't need to perform together to assure themselves that they're good. There's no question. They're friends, and they always will be, no matter how much time passes, they'll always be there for each other. I have no doubt about that.

And they asked Miles to come along, they knew they could count on him to make it and do an amazing show, even on short notice. And Miles was there watching, having fun, riding the high of his own show, and I bet it doesn't hurt him the slightest bit not playing 505 with them. And neither does Alex not joining him for a tlsp track. And it's just very fun to watch Miles do such a great job on such a massive stage and to watch Alex (maybe) send some inside jokes his way, and definitely acknowledge his presence more than he has for any other opening act.

Miles has enjoyed playing a couple of the more Miles centric tlsp tunes during the last year at his own shows, and he probably just took them off the setlist when they figured out they wouldn't have the time/energy to rehearse and work it all out. And to not lead anyone on and create false hope that Alex might show up. It's been a long time since they've done it. And Alex is the sort of guy who has probably forgotten his own lyrics, and would require more time and brain capacity to practice to get it in order. Or something else that is perfectly reasonable.

Like, I'm all for delusions but I guess I'm just saying that I don't think it's that deep. They're friends. Close friends. Very important to each other. (Maybe more if that's how you choose to view it). And I bet they don't even think about the shows in the same terms as we do, every little thing doesn't matter as much to them as it does to us. Not everything is a "sign" and there are so many pragmatic and logistical reasons that play into a tour like this that we know nothing about.

I bet Alex is exhausted, excited for the tour to be over and to get to go home and rest, I know I would be! Even if he has loved every bit of it, I would be completely worn out and just ready to go home. But I bet they were also so excited to have the strings and they wanted to really have them shine during the set. It was their show. The Monkey's show, and they finally had the chance to let the vision they had for the album come to life. What an amazing end of the tour.

I won't get too much into why they haven't utilized the strings sooner, because they obviously could've and I don't get why they didn't, and maybe they could've skipped the strings on 505 and had Miles up for it instead. It would've been incredible. So much potential. A lot of fans would've been pleased bout that, and I know they'd enjoy it and have fun playing together too.

But they didn't, and even if I would love to know the actual reason, I'm choosing to let it go and assume there is a very logical and reasonable explanation, and not some big dramatic fallout going on. I can be disappointed about not seeing them, but I don't think it "means" anything in the grander scheme of things.

Miles could've played with them (assuming he doesn't for the last one either), and I won't get into that discussion too much either, because ofc they could have done it together, but so many things had to work out and maybe Miles just wanted to do his own thing. Maybe they never got around to having the conversation, maybe something entirely different happened. We don't know.

And yes ofc I'm disappointed that we didn't get to see them together, I won't deny it. I would've loved it, both as a fan of their music and performances and as a tiny little happy milex lover, my shipper and fic writer heart would've been so so pleased about it. But we didn't get it this time around, and that doesn't mean that their friendship is over or that they hate each other or that they're not close anymore or that they don't love each other anymore. And it doesn't mean that we won't ever see them play together again.

I think they would love to perform together again, but I would assume they also have so many other things they love to do too. So many other things that require their energy. Even together, but also just their personal dreams and wants in life.

They're both into the idea of tlsp being back someday, but as it has always been with them, tlsp will return when the time is right, when it happens naturally. That's the beauty of it. It's something that just happens and that's why they both love and enjoy it so much, I think. It's about freedom and spontaneity, it's without boundaries, it can't be planned or controlled, it's a beautiful chaos between two close friends who love to make music together, and who are incredibly talented at it. But they're also artists who have other ambitions. Other projects they love.

And their friendship doesn't depend on tlsp releasing new music. It is a product of their beautiful friendship, but the friendship came first. Them not writing together right now actually says absolutely nothing about the current state of their friendship. Which we have seen signs of being as healthy and strong as ever, if a bit more private than it used to be. And that's fine. They're super private people, and honestly I would have much more reason to worry for their friendship if they suddenly started posting about it all the time and parading each other around. They're not like that and they never will be and that's fine.

Anyway, back to the topic at hand.

Yes, they're being dumbasses - both the band and our dear milex boys, throughout the whole tour - with not utilizing the strings earlier on the tour, not playing more of The Car on the setlist, not skipping more of AM, not taking advantage of ALL THAT POTENTIAL. They could've done the strings for Glastonbury, it would've been perfect. They could've easily included Miles in a few more gigs (it was sooooo lovely when they did), these last ones in particular, and it would've been so beautiful and meaningful and they would've had so much fun with it - they could've made so many better decisions than they did. The whole tour came with some question marks. We can all agree on that. They're being stupid and they seem to not always think very far ahead, and sometimes forget to use their brains, and I assume that's why they end up not having time to rehearse and work things out sooner, and that is honestly just so dumb of them. They could be doing so much more and I hope some things will improve next time.

But either way - the tour is over and I've loved every second of it.

The new album is super gorgeous and it finally got the string section it deserved. What an amazing finish to the tour. I sincerely hope they will be bringing a lot of The Car back next time around.

Deeply in my own heart I wish we would see Alex and Miles on stage together again soon, but at the same time, I wish Miles the very best with his own work, he truly deserves all the success in the world. And I hope Alex will get some well-earned rest and time off. I hope he will go free of paparazzi and find peace and quiet after this insanely taxing year, and I hope he finds bunches and bunches of inspiration for new songs. I hope tlsp will be back sooner rather than later and I hope they're happy.

I've loved getting to follow the tour, I've loved being on here freaking out with you guys, and I will miss getting to see their little faces everyday. Truly.

But I think it's so well deserved for them to take a break and I hope they will be back soon.

#this is so rambly and maybe ill backtrack later if my thoughts and feelings change #but i feel like its good to try and be reasonable about it all #and try to see it from their perspective #just to keep our own hearts calm too #assuming he doesn't join for the last show either #judt trying to clear my own head #arctic monkeys

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

BTAS Dork Squad and also Penguin (all separately, no poly this time) have an s/o who falls incredibly ill and is bedridden for weeks. One particularly bad night, they're sitting at the bedside while their s/o is unconscious. Suddenly, an appropriately unsettling (or completely normal looking) apparition of your choice appears in the room with them. There's no question what's happening: The Reaper is here to stake their claim on the sickly s/o. But Death can be swayed. Or beaten. How do the boys react to the situation, and how would they save the reader?

BTAS Dork Squad (plus Penguin) x Reader

How ominous! They'll really have to figure out how to save their beloved! First time writing for BTAS Penguin, very exciting <3

TW: Discussions of death, religion mention

BTAS Mad Hatter

Death appears as a gentleman in fine attire and top hat. Like something out of a storybook. The only indication that he is Wrong is when he takes off his glove and reveals the skeletal bones of his hands.

Oh, no no, this simply won't do! Jervis covers your body with his, covering his face and his eyes to wash the vision of death away! Despite living within his fantasy, he's still somewhat rational. This is because of stress. Chemicals and wiring misfiring within his brain-

Yet he feels his lovers body grow cold and he whips up, looking at the Reaper, begging him to stop. The flush goes back to your feverish cheeks and he realizes this is all too real.

"What could you want? I have nothing to give of consequence!" Jervis doesn't exactly think he wants money or jewelry. Or mind control devices...

"I want them." The Reaper states, "That is what I came here for. Nothing more." Jervis wraps himself tighter around you, refusing to sit idly by- and he notices something about the gentleman. His hat is beaten. And worn.

Jervis waves his hand, "Perhaps! Perhaps I could interest you in a bit of haberdashery! Some fine fixing, as it were!"

His skill in the smallest of mechanics has given his hyperfixation for Alice in Wonderland themed clothing a definitive boost over the years. The finest threading.

A deal is made. Jervis fixes the Reapers hat and you would not be taken at this time. Through the night as you slept through fever and rattling cough, Jervis moved nimble fingers tight and steamed and molded...

In the morning dawn, you woke up. Jervis told you he was exhausted, crawling into bed with you. His fingers had several bandages and when you asked, he merely says "We had a guest in need of a hat fixing."

BTAS Scarecrow

While at first he's incredibly doubtful of the existence of this foul creature, the skeletal shadow it reaches over you makes Jon a believer. Is this some... punishment from God? Some reckoning for his past sins of wreaking fear into the hearts of man?

Is he meant to suffer his very worst fear as recompense? Is this Hell?

It is not. It is merely a trial of some sort. Death sees a chessboard and expresses interest. He'd been teaching you and playing you in the moments you were awake. Perhaps Death would like a game? A wager?

Jon is not a gambling man. What this figure might not know is that Jon has played two of the most brilliant minds in all of Gotham during their stints in Arkham- a former neuroscientist and a certified genius.

Even Death has their psychological tells. They're difficult to read, but Jonathan has had practice. Little twitches, both of them analyzing the board.

The shambling ghoul that sits across from him has no facial features. Yet, Jonathan can sense they want to win desperately. Not from wanting you, though that is a bonus. No, rather, it's a nagging fear of losing.

And that is what he needs. Faking the Reaper out, allowing them to think they've gained an upper hand for Jon to yank it out from underneath at just the right moment. Risky, but feeds into the fear and makes Death sloppy.

"Set. Match." It takes almost an hour, but Jonathan manages to beat the Reaper. His hands are trembling. His brow sweating.

Death shakes with rage and points to you in bed, "I will have them... But... not today. And one day... I will have you, too. I will not forget this." Then he disappears.

Jonathan falls asleep at your bedside, waiting for you to wake up. Your gentle hand in his hair makes his eyes flutter and you look... better. Sweet, sweet relief.

BTAS Riddler

"Oh Jonathan, if this is your idea of some tasteless joke-" it's three a.m., how did you even get in here? Edward has so much security installed, this is ridiculous- it's when the figure passes his hand over you and your skin turns a hypoxic blue that Edward panics.

You see, Death heard of a genius who made games. Self-proclaimed smartest man alive. Death has always wanted a challenge... and what better wager than the soul of one you love? Cruel, perhaps, but he's been called that many a time before.

Edward immediately takes him up on it. He'll beat you at your game, ghoul. Or, crudely stated, Game ON, bitch. With his grandiose intelligence and stratagem... Unless this spectre is somehow Batman in disguise, Edward knows he's going to win. He has to.

It's an ancient game, one Edward hasn't even heard of. Lost to the ages, Death says. It's rules and playing pieces mere ash except for what Death himself has kept. And it's rules are numerous and complex.

The playing board represents a sort of river styx. Appropriately, perhaps, the goal of the game is to wade your way out of the river before death and the other souls can take you. So it's timed as well. One player is Death. The other is the poor soul trying to escape.

"And I never lose." Death says. Edward merely responds, "Well, you've never played me."

The game lasts five hours in length. Death has an hour glass set that Edward watches in horror as each grain reminds him how close you are to dying. What he truly has to lose. But he can't let his emotions run wild.

The idea of never seeing you smile or laugh at his witticisms again- to croon and tell him you love him and that he's your genius. It spurs each moment on as he falls to what feels like constantly shifting rules.

The Reaper asks Edward as only minutes remain, "You are a man of riddles. Here's one for you: I have a beginning, but no end and I end all things that begin. What am I?"

They both know the mocking answer.

With moments to spare, The Riddler beats the game. He practically flips over the board, cheering and being generally smug. He waits to see Death's reaction.

He laughs. Waves Riddler away before shaking his hand, "Good game."

He'd heard right. And so you live through this sickness. Edward looks forward to making you laugh for years to come.

BTAS Penguin

The figure who approaches your bedside is no private doctor or nurse. Penguin questions her, his eyelids swollen from worry and stress. Her smile, at first serene, moves to a grin too wide for her face. Penguin aims his umbrella at her and finds the bullet does nothing.

She is Death and she has come for your soul. Merely step aside, little man, for it is not your time yet. She talks to him as one would a child, adding insult to injury.

If he cannot wound her, he instead begs, "This isn't right! They have done nothing! Commited no crime other than gracing me with their affections!"

"The good never last for long. We both know that." Death responds.

Penguin offers everything- gold, jewelry, the finest cloth and diamonds one could ever want! Is it money? He can give you money, he has it! Everything in his account!

"I will not be satisfied with paltry mortal things." She says, "You need to accept these things. They'll happen to you, too. The rot. The cold-"

Oswald panics. The one person who ever truly accepted him. Someone he's told everything to, even his darkest secrets. The person he wants to grow old with...!

He stands in front of you, tears in his eyes. She tells him to move. He refuses. She looks annoyed.

With his last shot, he tells her, "Then take mine if you won't be satisfied, you corrupt banshee!"

That... makes her pause, "You would give your soul? For theirs?"

He nods. Of course. Take the damn thing! What would be the point of it if you died like this? He has no need!

And so she takes his face in her hands... and begins to pull his soul out from his body. Its agonizing like this, when he's so alive. It's painful, but he accepts it-

Until she stops. And sighs. Rolls her eyes. She frowns, "You've taken all the fun from this."

And suddenly she's gone. And you're coughing awake, telling Oswald that you just had the strangest dream. He cries as he holds you.

#btas riddler #btas scarecrow #btas mad hatter #dork squad #btas penguin #riddler x reader #scarecrow x reader #penguin x reader #mad hatter x reader #foxwriting

[areyoudoingthis]

"Our relationship was shit for so long before he died." "It wasn't your fault, Ed. You know that, right?" he asks, suddenly worried that he doesn't, that no one's told him and he's been carrying a world of guilt along with the sorrow. He means all of it, the death and the silence and the complicated feelings. - Ed deals with the fallout of everything he went through in S2.

Stede finds him crying under the pile of soft, colorful blankets they picked together for their bed. He started feeling worried when he couldn't find him where he was supposed to be at dinner time - trying to fix the hole on their roof, because it rained two days ago and there's still a small lake on their kitchen floor - and now he's glad he came looking for him. He can hear the way his sobs tear out of his chest, see the way the blankets shake as he cries, and he feels like crying himself.

He approaches the bed quietly, not wanting to startle him, and whispers his name once he's close enough, to let him know he's here.

"Ed?"

There's no response, just more sobbing from under the blankets, and Stede's heart aches seeing him like this. It isn't new or unexpected, he's been here with Ed doing the comforting a few times himself, but it doesn't hurt any less every time it happens. He moves closer and sits gently on the bed next to the bundle of fabric, places his hand somewhere around Ed's middle.

"Darling? Do you want to come out from under there for a bit?"

The blankets shift and Ed's face appears, cheeks tear streaked and eyes red from crying, silver-black curls in disarray.

Stede doesn't hesitate before he moves forward to wrap him in his arms and hold him close against his chest. He's had the opportunity to learn that Ed is a tactile person, gets most of his comfort from touching and being touched, because this isn't the first time they've had to be there for each other over the past few weeks. It turns out giving up the sea to renovate an inn didn't leave all their problems behind in their old life with all their physical belongings.

Stede wasn't taken by surprise this time around, has had to learn over and over that running away solves nothing if they don't make the time to sit together and talk, even if he is truly awful at following through on it himself. It isn't made any easier just for knowing, but the difference with all their previous attempts at this is that they have the time now, and a safe space to embrace each other and cry until their hurts feel less sharp, until the heartbreak eases and they can fall asleep in one another's arms and wake up to a brighter sunrise in the morning.

He combs his fingers through Ed's hair unhurriedly, rubs tender circles on his back, until Ed's breathing starts to even out and his voice comes small from where he's pressed against Stede's front.

"Our relationship was shit for so long before he died."

Oh, so today is about Izzy. Stede is aware the subject is delicate, was there to comfort Ed as he cried when he died in his arms, had a front row seat to Izzy's deathbed confession and to the turbulent days before it happened. He's seen enough of the two of them interacting to guess at years of hurt and misplaced love and loyalty between them, watched the way they rubbed painfully against each other until they were both worn thin, and never fully understood what kept them together. He was there when Izzy sold them out and Ed retaliated in his defense, and he was also there for the period of time when they didn't talk to each other at all after Ed's almost death and the loss of Izzy's leg, even if he missed everything that happened in between (he's heard snippets about those days from the crew, but Ed hasn't chosen to share anything about that time himself yet, and Stede understands. Sometimes it takes a long time to be able to shape some events into words that can be shared with others). And with all that he has seen and been told, It's no wonder this is weighting heavily on Ed after the loss.

It was such a tangled web they got themselves caught in, and Stede doesn't even know where to begin to soothe him. His own terrible relationships were all a lot less complicated than Ed and Izzy's. His father was very straight forward in his contempt for him, he and Mary were dreadfully ill matched from the beginning, and his children were simply too young when he left to have much to say about him.

"It can't have been all bad," he offers as he strokes his back gently. "There must have been some good somewhere."

Ed doesn't answer for some time, breathes brokenly against Stede's chest and keeps soaking his shirt with silent tears. Stede would mop up the entire ocean with it if it made Ed feel better.

"We met a few years after I left Hornigold's ship," he whispers at last.

"That's your old captain, right? The one who was a dick?"

"Yeah. He fed a cabin boy a live crab once." He drops the fact like he needs to let it out, like removing a splinter to ease the pain. Stede gasps and shudders, flashes to a dead goose and a lot of blood, wonders how many other nightmares are hiding in Ed's memories and wishes love was enough to make it all far less terrible than it is. He buries his face in Ed's hair and kisses his head tenderly; if this is all he can give, he will give it until he's raw. "He was shit," Ed continues. "Sailing under him was the fuckin' worst, so I left as soon as I was old enough to run my own crew. I met Iz a few years later, in the early days of Blackbeard."

"What was it like back then?" Stede asks, curious to know what life looked like for twenty-something-year-old Ed. How did he spend his time in between raids? What did he dream of? Did he wish for impossible things like twenty-something-year-old Stede did?

Ed is silent for a while, like he's taking his time to dig up the memories and weigh how he feels about them before he gives his verdict.

"We wanted the same shit at first, and he was there, ya know? Didn't try to stab me in the back like the other fuckers. But he always loved the whole thing. Piracy, becoming a legend, being top dog. He fuckin' loved Blackbeard."

Stede feels a pang of shame, remembers telling Ed he'd give everything he owned away if only he could be like Blackbeard for a moment.

"And you?" he asks, far more interested now in hearing what the man whose life he has chosen to share has to say than in his old fantasies of swashbuckling and glory.

"I dunno," Ed pauses. "I think I liked being the best at something. Calling the shots." Stede can certainly understand that. "And it was fun, for a while, getting back at the fuckin' British, taking whatever we wanted, coming up with the next plan, watching it work out just like I saw it in my head. But-" he hesitates.

"Yes?"

"I think I stuck with it for so long 'cause I thought it was the only option." And this sounds like a realization he's having as he speaks it, like he's chasing the thoughts inside his mind and threading them into sentences; and it's laden with sorrow, as if he wishes he could go back and recapture something that feels lost forever.

Stede aches for him, understands all about feeling out of options and realizing how much time has been lost to the suffocating feeling of being trapped. He spent over forty years stuck in the choices his father made for him, too scared to take a single step to break free, even when he cried himself to sleep every night. The fear was just that strong. Fear of change, but also fear that nothing would ever be better, no matter what he changed. It took meeting Ed to realize that he was drowning the entire time, and that chasing hope can be worth the risk and the terror.

With every conversation they have he realizes more and more that maybe that's what piracy was like for Ed, even though for the longest time he couldn't fathom how it could possibly feel like a cage to someone when it was such an exhilarating promise of freedom for him. He's been learning to see a lot of things under a different light over the past few months of his life.

"We have options now," he reminds him, tries to give back some of the hope Ed's kindled inside him since the day they met and he quite literally saved his life. They're living one of them, but they can just as easily leave the whole thing behind to chase their next adventure. As long as they're together, Stede is convinced there's nothing they can't do.

"Not before you. I didn't see any other options before I met you," Ed says it easily, like the words aren't the most precious gift Stede's ever received in his life.

His heart stutters. He can feel it stop for a couple of seconds before it starts beating furiously against his ribcage again, and the knot that tied itself in his throat when he found Ed crying alone tightens and grows until it burns him. He spent decades believing every word wielded sharp as a blade against him, feeling the bruises left by the stones thrown at him as a child. He's been convinced that he'd ruin everyone and everything around him for so long, that it's hard to believe he brought something good to Ed's life, even now, even when he has the evidence of Ed's presence and his words and actions. He's trying, he's trying hard every minute of their lives, but it still doesn't come easy.

Before he can think of anything to say and try to push it past the tightness in his throat, Ed goes on.

"I tried to love him. I think I hated him before the end." The words are barely audible, like he almost doesn't want to let go of them.

Stede holds him tighter, tries to press his love into Ed's skin, soundlessly show him how much he doesn't judge him for having complicated feelings about a complicated man.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with that, Ed."

"I asked him to kill me, before- before the crew-" Stede's heart constricts and dies a little at the idea of a world where he was too late to find Ed and bring him back.

"Darling," is all he can offer. Some things are too big for words, too big to encompass with a few sounds. He holds onto Ed, gifts him his silence and his love as best he can.

"I wanted to leave, Stede, I wanted to be gone in some fuckin' way so badly. He wouldn't let Blackbeard go, I thought he'd give me that at least."

"But he didn't."

"I don't even fuckin' know why," Ed chokes, sounding frustrated by his inability to understand. "Don't know why I kept him around for so long, either."

"Maybe there isn't a simple reason. Maybe you need time to figure it out."

Sometimes answers aren't straightforward, don't come neatly tied with a bow. Sometimes it takes years to understand and undo the damage. Sometimes it can't be undone at all, it can only be stitched up and left to scar over time.

"It wasn't your fault, Ed. You know that, right?" he asks, suddenly worried that he doesn't, that no one's told him and he's been carrying a world of guilt along with the sorrow. He means all of it, the death and the silence and the complicated feelings. There isn't a single thing Ed caused just by wanting things for himself, it's the world that sucks, the world that continues to be unfair and break all the best in people. The world and the men like Ricky and Stede's father and Ed's dad.

Ed falls apart in his arms when he hears it, cries louder than he's cried all night, and Stede thanks his lucky stars that he thought to tell him, that he didn't fumble this as he's fumbled so many things in his life. He presses him closer into his body, lets him get it all out and continues to use his flesh and his bones and his love to support him.

"I think he died knowing that he was loved, Ed. Isn't that what counts?" he says, once Ed's sobs have calmed down slightly.

"Then why do I still feel like shit, Stede?" He sounds so small when he asks it, voice raw and worn out.

"Well, life's a dick, darling, remember?" Stede answers kindly, rubbing his hand over Ed's arm like he did the first time he said those words. They've become somewhat of a refrain between them, for when they're struggling, or having complicated emotions, or when they fall back into old habits during particularly hard days.

It's a reminder that no matter how difficult what they're going through is, or how complicated they are as individuals, it doesn't make them unlovable. At least by now they're aware that the fear of that weights so heavily on the both of them that it keeps tripping them up, is why they sometimes argue and end up feeling like they're drowning no matter how hard they fight against it, or how happy and in love they are every other day. It's also a reminder that no matter how many times they mess up neither of them is going anywhere, that they're committed to loving each other for every virtue and every flaw, through every mistake and every argument, even (or perhaps especially) when they struggle to love themselves.

"Yeah," Ed agrees, eventually. And if it sounds a bit reluctant, Stede won't call him out on it. He'll just keep reminding him as often as he needs to hear it.

They sit together in silence for a while longer, drawing quiet comfort from each other, Stede petting Ed adoringly, grateful to be able to provide him with some peace in the storm. He runs his hands through his curls in the way he knows Ed finds soothing, traces abstract shapes on his skin and over his clothes, feels his chest rise and fall against his own and thinks maybe the clouds have passed for the day. Until.

"D'ya think he was right about what he said?"

"Which part?"

"About being just Ed."

The wistfulness in his voice takes Stede apart and puts him back together in the same instant. He can relate to the doubt, to asking himself if who he is worth the trouble, worth the effort, worth the love of others. Sometimes he stumbles, says the wrong thing or dwells in his worst memories for too long and has to start building himself up all over again, it feels like. He knows he isn't starting from scratch, knows there's ground gained every day he feels comfortable in his own skin, every day he makes Ed smile, every night they fall asleep tangled around each other after a long day of being happy together -but it still feels like that sometimes.

He knows Ed grapples with similar insecurities, but Stede never has any doubts when it comes to him. He may have to wrestle with every ghost in his head to even get a glimpse of his own worth, but he sees Ed's easily and always bright like midday sunlight. It's large enough to fill their home, and their ocean home, and the whole entire seabed. Ed burns bright and lovely wherever he goes, is the easiest person to love Stede has ever known.

"I think Ed is wonderful," he says, with the full force of his conviction behind the words.

Ed makes a small sound that pierces through Stede.

"You kinda have to say that," he rebuffs.

This, Stede can do, he can give with open palms and open heart. This is how he learns to love himself, through loving Ed with everything he is.

"Ed loves me and he makes me happy," he begins, and he can feel Ed start to shake with tears again. "Ed is patient with me and he keeps me safe. Ed fought for me and he fights for me every day. Ed left everything behind to build a home with me, and he works hard to make sure it holds strong. Ed makes me breakfast in bed and remembers my favorite marmalade and how I take my tea. He listens to me and he makes sure I listen to myself. He forgives me often and he makes me feel adored." Ed trembles quietly with every word, but Stede knows these are necessary tears, cleansing tears. "Ed is wonderful, and I love him."

They're both crying now, clinging to each other and pouring their pain and their love and their hope into the other's body, into the world around them, into their quiet room in the house with solid bones they're restoring, into every step of the life they're choosing.

Stede keeps one arm around Ed, rubs his other hand gently over every bit of him he can reach, trying to keep him warm and safe. Ed is lying half on top of him by now, tucked flush against him and still weeping occasionally. They stay like that for a long time, resting in the safety of their embrace, with nowhere to go and no emergency that needs them, until Ed's calmed down and gone pliant above him, and Stede suspects he may be falling asleep on him.

"Let's get you more comfortable, love. Go wash your face while I make us some tea? Then we can have it in bed."

Ed stirs slowly, hums in sleepy agreement.

Letting go of him feels like ripping himself in half, but Stede hurries through heating up water and measuring tea into their cups as much as he can, avoiding the puddle in the middle of their kitchen that they still haven't managed to fully clean up, and soon he's heading back towards him. They rejoin after their tasks are done, sit side by side against the pillows sipping the tea Stede made until their cups are empty and their bodies pleasantly warm and exhausted.

It may have been a hard day, but the tea is sweet, the bed toasty from their bodies and the blankets, and Ed's skin smells lovely from the soap he used to wash away his tears. When the teacups have been discarded by their bed, Stede lies down and takes Ed in his arms, drags the covers over both of them. Ed settles readily into him, tucks himself under Stede's chin where he belongs and intertwines their fingers against his stomach. He sighs deeply once he's resting comfortably, and Stede hopes it means some of the tension has been released and he'll be able to have a good night's sleep. He nuzzles his face affectionately into the curve of Ed's neck, drapes himself securely against his back, a blanket and a barrier between him and the world. If his body's good for anything, it's the safekeeping of the man he loves.

#blackbonnet #gentlebeard #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fic #my fic #i am releasing this fic into the world i want to suffer no longer

[indouloureux]

from the thing i reblogged from @contentconsumer that i sadly lost, here's a blurb about our dear boy eddie ft. books, theft, rock hard socks and domesticity

"hey watcha reading?"

you drop your book to your chest and look up to see eddie, coming back after another dnd campaign. he looks exhausted, and you wonder what he might have done to look so worn out after a campaign.

eddie stands in front of you by the end of the bed, throwing his leather jacket and vest aside, followed by the removal of his hellfire shirt thrown to the floor with the rest of his clothes. his tattoos greet you — brazen and hot.

"hey hey no!" you scold him, pointing at him. "pick those up. i just cleaned your room."

"but—"

"you don't know how many pretzel crumbs i saw all over this floor, eddie. and i swear i saw a pair of socks harder than a rock that started to smell and i had to throw it away," he laughs at you. "pick that up or i'm leaving."

"alright, ma'am," he bends over to pick his shirt up, horribly folding it and tossing it over to the table in front of his mirror. "now what are you reading?"

"i found this book beneath your bed," you tell him. eddie crawls over to you until he's hovering right above you. a finger pushes the book down until his face evades your eyesight; tired, but overwhelmingly pretty. without permission does he plant a soft kiss on your lips, but you don't mind.

"really? didn't know i had a book under there."

"figured. it's in really horrible condition," you laugh at him. he pecks your cheek, then your nose twice before kissing the creases on your forehead away. "jus' wanna know when you got this because this is lord of the rings, babe."

eddie leans inward and takes a glance of the worn out book with fold creases on every page, hardback almost torn apart by wandering rats. "oh, i got that back in middle school. i stole it."

"you stole it?"

"mhm, from the library," he moves back and slots himself between your legs, chin resting on your navel as his arms hug your legs on either side of his body. "i had a buzzcut back then though. and they've been looking for Mr. Belchin for years. they never found out who it truly was."

"ever the rebel," you run a hand through his hair, twirling a strand on your finger — one bearing the ring eddie gave to you a year ago as a token of promise. only removed during showers.

you start reading again, a hand on the book and a hand on his hair, only ever leaving it to flip the page. eddie's chin remains on your navel, except your shirt is tucked beneath your breasts and with your stomach exposed to him, he's drawing lethargic circles over your skin.

i- l-o-v-e- y-o-u

then he turns to rest his head on your right thigh, kissing the left absentmindedly almost as an act of reverence than risqué. eddie's quietly humming a song that's not metal — probably the one he's always heard in the radio when you both use your car than his van.

with his hands still massaging your thigh, he scoots upward to rest his head on your stomach so he's closer to you. his rings press coldly against your supple skin, but enjoy the feeling of silver on your thighs that eddie loves so much.

but when you stop touching his hair is when eddie's head pokes beneath the book, looking up at you with needy eyes that are wide like a begging puppy. you tilt your book to the side, raise a brow at him with a small grin. "yes?"

"why'd you stop?" he murmurs. eddie's on the verge of sleep, eyes drooping from tiredness. "keep going."

"alright, baby, i'm sorry," you bend forward to kiss his forehead, hand coming back to run your fingers down his hair. with all your dexterity do you untangle the knots in his unkempt curls, tugging ever so slightly but doesn't phase him a bit as it lulls him into a deep slumber.

the bare skin of his upper body is warm against yours, tattooed against the clear. eddie's deep breathing, the soft swish of the pages turning, and the faint sounds of noise from the outside calms you ever than before.

and with the presence of your lover beneath you, you find yourself falling asleep too, in a compromising position.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated! <3

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn blurb #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn fluff #blurb