#this was actually water & light drawing practice (bit failed)

[jijjmoon]

more code poetry

#this was actually water & light drawing practice (bit failed) #ava #alan becker #ava theory #ava the second coming #animator vs animation #ava tsc #watching how other ppl interpret these are interesting #color #color gang #code poetry

[snows-2am-thoughts]

Dazai Headcanons

I have a few headcanons on how Dazai acted before he came to be in Mori’s care. There are a lot of theories about where Dazai came from and I love most of them honestly. There are so many possibilities about how Dazai came to be and honestly, I need a light novel about it. Unless they’re going to make it important to the plot and it gets revealed in the next arc or sometime later in the manga. 

My favorite theory that I came up with was that Dazai came from a wealthy family. He’s probably the youngest of 2-3 siblings and his parents were the cold and distant but loving type. I like to think that Dazai had a nice family but something happened that pushed him to where he ended up. I am taking inspiration from the protagonist of the No Longer Human book by the irl Dazai Osamu so tread carefully since I will mention some of that stuff. I am trying to keep this one more lighthearted and introspective so some stuff like the se*ual ab*se Ōba Yōzō went through won’t be mentioned. 

Warnings: I talk about ADHD, some implied mental illness along with some trauma because Dazai. All of the warnings that can apply to Dazai should be warned (aka his unaliving tendencies)

Anyways the headcanons

INFANT Dazai (0-1 year old)

Was a quiet baby, never really cried and babbled

It actually worried his parents at first because their other kids made a lot more noise as babies

Only really cried if he got super frustrated when he couldn’t communicate his wants effectively

Did started making noises and saying small words around the 10 month mark

Wasn’t very interested in the baby toys that made noise

Building blocks held his interest a tad bit more but even then he grew out of them fast

TODDLER Dazai (1-3 years old)

Started walking around the 1 year old mark

Still wasn’t a big talker but he would give one or two word answers, he just didn’t feel like any more words were necessary

Would walk and point to things if he could, words once again weren’t necessary

Wasn't very interested in toys the kids his age liked

Did have a small interest in listening to his parents work, mostly because his brain was a sponge soaking up all it could

Taught himself to read around 2.5-3 years old, he would memorize stories that the maids would read to him then open the book himself and memorize the words. Basically he worked backwards to learn to read

With the early reading came the early education once his parents noticed his only interests revolved around his brain

Numbers and the lot came easy after learning the basics

PRESCHOOL Dazai (3-6 years old)

Didn’t really understand people and even more so after starting school and started being around kids his age

He observed and copied the actions of the kids around him to not draw attention to himself (*cough*masking*cough*)

Started to make himself act like more of an outgoing and friendly child even if he didn’t understand why that seemed like the preferred personality that people wanted from children. (aye practice for his future self)

Although he transitioned into his persona slowly as to not raise suspicion of an overnight personality change

Thought that his persona could let him understand people a little more but it made him more confused

He totally gave his teachers so many headaches when he first started school

As I said before, tried to mask and hide his intelligence for a while because he didn’t need any attention on him

This failed as he got way too bored of sorting shapes and numbers but he was already reading at a 16 year old skill level at 6 years old

His teachers tried stimulating his academically until they deemed it was better to just move him up grades

Went from his 6 year old class to a class filled with 9 year olds to test the waters

They had to move him to a 12 year old class only a few days later when he made multiple children cry after a multiplication game

SCHOOL AGE (6-12 years old)

You will have to physically rip ADHD Dazai away from my cold dead hands, I stg (I could do a whole separate headcanon for this because him and Ranpo basically make up AuDHD)

I feel like around his 7-8 year old mark is when he really started going tired around the uninteresting things of life, he’s a severely bored kid who doesn’t understand nor have a will to live

I do think around 10-11 is when he started getting interested in suicide as a coping mechanism for all the intricacies of humanity that he did not understand and the fact he started realizing he didn’t have a reason to live

At this point he’s observed people for so long that the masks he parades around of a cheerful but academically gifted child is concrete and there’s hardly anything that can make him break it

Knows why and how people feel certain emotions or react a certain way to things but he doesn’t understand it, not really

There's an ever bigger disconnect between him and people from when he was small that he starts to think of himself as something other than human

Had a bunch of issues trying to stimulate his brain in a way that would take away his boredom as school couldn’t do it for him

While he couldn’t ever really take away his boredom completely, he would take up new puzzles or games to try and give his brain new things to think about. I’m talking like the 3D crystal puzzles or the puzzles with no edge pieces

Anything that could capture his attention was bought in bulk until he eventually got bored of it again (neurodivergent child)

Started taking university level courses around 11, he probably could’ve taken them sooner but his teachers and parents didn’t want to overload them

#bungo stray dogs beast #bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai #dazai osamu #bsd analysis #bsd headcanons #child dazai #teen dazai #Dazai has ADHD and you can rip that from my cold dead hands #i want to write an introspective fic on dazai #this was purely self indulgent

[natto-axolotl]

idk if u still do this anymore but do u have anymore brawlhalla hcs to share? special for Ember, Dusk, & Jaeyun? haha if u don’t just ignore this ask

ahh sorry for getting to this so late!!! and i always have hcs i just dont have a good place to share em wkdnbdkwn (readmore cause it got too long HAHA)

Ember

she's deeply empathetic, and also a great problem solver!!! a miracle worker when it comes to defusing conflict. now if only that would work on whatever the hell diana and mordex have

eats trail mix, has not been able to shake the habit of sporadic snacking in lieu of actual meals

T A L L (stolen from someone on twitter)

doesn't 100% forgive nor blame dusk. due to (in my hcs) being left at the fangwild's mercy as its guardian since she was 7, ember knows only bits about the conflict between the aesir and the elves, so to her dusk just kinda jumped out of the blue all riled up. after learning about his background it somewhat mitigates her righteous anger at Being Killed, and all that

has a sort of 6th sense when it comes to distortions in the fabric of the universe (having lived in one her whole life)

semicanon but does recurve archery!!!

good with a knife and knowledgable about hunting, neither picky with her food nor squeamish about live slaughter

can and will eat bugs

dumbest stunt done post-death is probably trying to hookshot using diana's bow and falling

fairly uninvolved with the gossip mill of the tournament, only tunes in if it's relevant to her desire to go home or if ragnir and the rest of the fangwild gang are also involved

sees ragnir as a brother, dusk as a mildly annoying but fun companion at best and asshole at worst, and arcadia as a peer and weirdly enough, a teacher (despite arcadia technically being her junior)

fangies (bmg fight me on this)

eager to learn about novel technology but often can't seem to find a use for it. and then someone got her into photography

lots of scars, but the permanent one that killed her is a bruise on her chest, in a swirl the same shape as the one on dusk's orb

val, mordex and dusk are the people she dislikes the most

dusk

let's get it out of the way, there's a lot wrong with this man but the most pressing one is that he has a frankly bruised beyond repair ego and that's what makes him so insufferable

high metabolism and abuses it to the point where he has drank nothing but coffee once and. paid the price dearly!!!

also related, but faints and gets dizzy easily due to the whole "in prison for 400+ years" shtick. grody scars as well

easier to say who he likes than who he doesn't. tolerates ember, tries to actively avoid arcadia, will draw blood over simple conversation with ragnir. him and ulgrim have bitter, bitter emotions between each other.

would be heavily susceptible to victor frankenstein's entire story arc

tolerates hanging around the "evil" legends, but everyone there knows that they don't really like each other and are just using other people to further their own goals. miserable people all the way down!!!

was not aware of how sexy his sideboob was until someone pointed it out after he died.

is generally unaware he's considered attractive. styles his hair like this out of habit not because it makes him look like a bad boy type

regards kor with a weird mix of pride, disgust, shame, hope, and genuine love. kor's basically his son, but he's also a machine of war that was designed for one goal, which it failed, and that technically makes kor defective. but dusk can't really bring himself to call kor that, not when he's found his niche.

has tried to take val apart multiple times. in an alternate universe (maybe after the world ends) dusk would've ended up in robotics

before his imprisonment, dusk's hair was long and worn in a variety of styles. now it's too short to be braided with practicality in mind.

his orb doubles as a massage gun, bluetooth speaker, hot water bottle, keyboard, night light, morse signaler, and metal detector, among other things. think nautica's wrench from mtmte, and he's always adding more shit to it.

dumbest stunt was openly shittalking thor when he joined the tournament and registered with orb. dusk had to be picked out of the cracked concrete for the next 5 days.

wrists are pretty fucked from 200+ years id manacles, and the Killing Scar is a cut running from dusk's collarbone to his left thigh, left by orma (arcadia's sword)

hss taken to baking (much to kaya, cassidy and zariel's glee). secretly finds it enjoyable. don't tell anyone.

once drank so much coffee he died from a heart attack

knowledgable on older asgardian legislature, history and culture, which gets him the affectionate title of nerd

prev hc ties into a bigger hc where nix and Asgard are locked in a legal battle to see if they can loophole a way for the reaper to safely reao nai, whereas asgard wants to stress and strengthen the pan-pantheon protection it has in its einherjar. like legally blonde but with dead people and 1 blonde

likes seasoned porridge. still working uo spice tolerance, he ate something too pungent and started crying.

ignores the rumor mill as much as possible. if it were up to dusk the only thing he would like to hear about is the intrinsic working of the divintiy of asgard, but instead he gets hot goss abour whether or not two people are snogging.

Jaeyun

actually not too great of a person. if we're looking at it practically, makes sense as he's a merc, he's gotta be able to take any job for some cash. and he has murdered or attempted to before???

was once part of the civil service before calling it quits and becoming a soldier. not as good at law and boring bureaucratic work as some other legends, but knows the basics and would like Not to go back, please!!!

knows a fair bit of ambient magic manipulation, but nothing bigger than moving rocks and creating wind.

one of the most prolific betters among the legends and almost perpetually broke. do not let him find out about gacha games.

high wis low int. clever as hell but can be dumb as balls.

due to his habit of taking odd jobs jaeyun knows random bits of knowledge and is a very empathetic person; after you've seen so much you start to find patterns and bright spots in the lives of people around you, big or small

looooves grilled and street food: cheap, easy to eat on the go, filling, and flavorful. sundae with tteokbokki after a long day of work is jaeyun's ideal of a comfort meal.

jajeongmyeon might not have been introduced when jaeyun was alive but you bet your ass he loves it when he finds it in valhalla

prolific tax evader and embezzler in life, will take ur mammoth coins after dying

compared to dusk and ember jaeyun is not hung up about being dead at all. it's a natural part of life, and though he is a bit sad the fact that he's done so much in kife to be considered notable for valhalla is enough to keep him happy.

a decent bargainer and reasonably charismatic. not as good as mordex or Caspian, but he does have a definite pull to his personality that you can't help but overlook his war crimes and bad money habits for

hates cats. terrified of asuri. thinks butterscotch is secretly helping fait as part of a greater coalition of cats against him.

very awkward with Jiro like "heyyy howsit been since i tried to kill you" awkward

hes Big and its not just all muscle im sick and tired of people drawing him skinny. LET JAEYUN BE CHUBBY

has tried to snowboard on his sword. fell, broke his nose, stayed inside the rest of the day

embezzles out of habit, not the worst liar bit he does jump to half-true coverups most of the time

#brawlhalla #headcanons #natto blabbos #natto writes #natto answers #ask #anon #ember #ember brawlhalla #brawlhalla ember #dusk #dusk brawlhalla #brawlhalla dusk #jaeyun #jaeyun brawlhalla #brawlhalla jaeyun #SORRY FOR THE LATE RESPONSE I HOPE THIS IS ENOUGH FOOD TEEHEE #i had a lot of fun trying to flesh em all out with these :D #i hope you like them!!! #also catch me on discord at natto 8856 for more headcanons #my hcs

[1jet2unknown]

@averystereksummer Day 7 - out on the water

Finally back home and able to properly post again. Again a bit too late for the actual day itself, but I hope you guys enjoy anyway :)

The pack spent a day at the beach and shortly after they set camp under some big sun umbrellas only a short distance from the water, Derek, Scott, Allison, Isaac and Jackson rented out some surfboards, all quick to paddle out to the sea, trying to catch one of the good waves.

Stiles stayed back with Lydia who laid in a lounge chair under a big umbrella reading as well as Erica & Boyd who were more interested to draw obsceneries into the sand, Erica cackling whenever a passing mother gasped and pulled her child away.

Stiles watched Derek catch some of the big waves, smoothly riding them out, making surfing look so easy. He smiled when after almost an hour Derek came wading back out of the water a bright smile on his face as he unclased the line of his board from his ankle.

“You look like you had fun,” Stiles mused as he handed Derek his towel. Derek just grinned, his muscles flexing as he dried off his hair. “Absolutely did. You shoud try it, too!”

Stiles just huffed. “Me?” he scoffed.” Yeah right! I have a hard enough time to stay on two steady feet while walking. I’d probably split the board with my head in less than five minutes.

”Derek snorted. “Oh, come on. You might be a bit clumsy sometimes...” Jackson snorted loudly at that as he passed by and Stiles threw him a glare. “But you’re more athletic than you give yourself credit. I could totally teach you!”

It took about one more hour of Derek explaining some of the basics of surfing and the pack mocking Stiles for Stiles to agree to give surfing a try.

“Ten bucks on Stiles not even getting up on the board,” Jackson exclaimed. “Ten he does," Scott offered in return and just when Stiles wanted to thank his friend for sticking up for him, Scott added “but faceplants within less than 5 seconds.”

Stiles glared at his traitor-friend as well as at the rest of the pack, each chiming in their own bets of how Stiles would fail on the board.

“Ten on Stiles riding a small wave within less than an hour.”

Stiles’ head whipped around as fast as the others’ to find Derek with an eyebrow raised in a challenge. He pulled his shirt over his head, handing it over to Stiles. “Wear this. It keeps you from scraping your torso until you have the hang of it and keeps you warm in the water.”

Stiles gulped, but took the shirt from Derek nonetheless, pulling it over his head. Derek smiled at him. “You ready to start your first surfing lesson?” he asked and Stiles threw another look at the grinning pack before nodding and falling in step behind Derek.

Derek pointed him towards Scott’s board, pulling his own from the sand with ease. When they had made their way over to the water, to Stiles’ surprise Derek made him put his board down on the sand rather than in the water.

“We’ll start with the basics. Paddling and popping up,” Derek explained and Stiles rolled his shoulders in preparation for what ever Derek had him do for the next hour.Okay. He felt stupid, laying on his board practicing paddling on land, but Derek said it was necessary and he trusted Derek. He wouldn’t just have him do this to make fun of him. And surely enough, after a few corrections of his movements here and there Derek allowed Stiles to move on to practicing popping up.

During the first try, Stiles slipped, crashing face first onto the board and the pack was howling. Derek shot them a red-eyed glare before turning back to Stiles, helping him up and taking a careful look at his chin.

“Don’t let that bother you,” he said in a small but sure voice. “You’re doing good. Avoid grabbing the edges of the board and you’ll be less likely to slip. I’ll also wax the board a bit more, giving you a better grip.

”Stiles nodded, weirdly aware of Derek’s fingers still caerfully holding his chin.Derek gave him another nod before turning around, prepping Stiles’ board.

And sure enough, about 30min later Stiles was able to jump and stand on his board correctly. Derek gave him a proud, teethy smile and nodded towards the water. “Now... Let’s try the same thing in the water.”

Ten minutes of paddling in the water later, Derek sat on his board and demonstrated popping up once more. Stiles watched as Derek got on in one smooth motion, riding the small wave expertly.

Derek paddled back to where Stiles’ was seated on Scott’s board. He pushed himself to a sitting position and pushed his wet hair from his forehead.

“Think you got this?” he asked and Stiles gulped. He took a deep breath, eyes shortly scanning the beach for the others who were watching them before looking straight at Derek again. He nodded.

“Good,” Derek answered. “Then get ready.” He looked behind them, watching a wave coming up. “You can catch this one. I’ll be right with you. You got this.”

The two of them got into position and when they found themselves close to the peak, Derek shouted “paddle, paddle, paddle” prompting Stiles to paddle with his arms as if there was no tomorrow.

“Jump!” Derek instructed and Stiles pushed himself up as quick and smoothly as he could.

“YES!!!!” Derek screamed as he watched Stiles catch his very first wave, feet planted firmly on the board as he rode for a few meters. When his board slowed down, Stiles jumped from the board, crashing into the water rather unvceremoniously. But he didn’t find it in himelf to care.

When he broke the surface, his face almost split from the huge grin on his face.Derek paddled over, a grin almost as big on his face. “Told you you’d be able to do it!” Stiles pulled himself onto the board, answering the high-five Derek offered him before turning his head to the shoreline.

“SUCK ON THAT, DICKHEADS!” he screamed from the top of his lungs accommodated by his hands held high above his head, flipping his friends off.

Derek just laughed as he watched the younger one, a fond glint in his eyes.

Another hour later, Derek and Stiles were still in the water.Stiles had ended up falling a few times while trying to catch bigger waves than that first one, but he found himself to not care much, the joy of allt he times he did manage to catch a wave outshining any frustration he might feel the times he didn’t.He and Derek sat on Derek’s board, Scott’s board swimming close to them, still attached to Stiles’ ankle. "Wrap-up session" Derek had explained when he had patted his board, urging Stiles to join him.

“So... how did I do, teach?” Stiles joked and Derek shook his head slightly in amusement. Stiles nudged him with his knee. “Come on. You can be frank with me... I mean, I did fall quite a bit there. But..” He scrunched up his nose, wiggling his head a little trying to get some reply out of Derek.

Derek lipped his lips and nudged Stiles’ knee back. “You were amazing,” he said in a low and earnest voice that made Stiles’ face heat up and chest grow tight.“Amazing?” Stiles asked, a shy smile on his face, and Derek nodded.

“Amazing. As expected.”

That made Stiles huff an embarrassed laugh, pushing against Derek’s shoulder.  “Yeah right,” he said. “As if ‘amazing’ is a word people actually associate with me,” he mumbled but when he looked up he found Derek looking straight at him, face open and honest. “I do.”

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat and for a few moments all he could do was stare at Derek, mouth slightly agape with disbelief that Derek - Derek Hale - had just said that. About him of all people.

“I trust your capabilities,” Derek said, eyes wandering to where Stiles had started to fist them into the wet fabric of his swim shorts. “I trust you,” he added and Stiles huffed out the breath he had held.

For a few moments Stiles just watched Derek. Who suddenly seemed unable to look Stiles’ in the eyes anymore. And Stiles felt lightheaded with the realization what Derek’s words actually meant.

Derek trusted him. He knew that. But that wasn’t what Derek had meant when he had said the words. Stiles knew Derek long enough to understand his words the way they were intended - as a love confession.

And it made him light-headed and giddy and tense and hot and cold... all at the same time. Because yes. He had hoped for this moment, prayed for it, for the past couple of years. In between all the times they were at each others throat, bickering, saving each others' life more times than they could count.

He had long been Derek's. And he had hoped, against all the doubt and self-depreciation in his mind, that maybe someday Derek might feel the same.

“I trust you, too,” he said in a voice so low it was barely a whisper. And given the bright, relieved smile on Derek's face the were had understood Stiles, too.

For a moment they just looked at each other, the bright orange and red from the setting sun reflecting in their eyes.

It was Derek who moved first, reaching out and cupping Stiles' face with one hand as he leaned forward. Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, nestling against Derek's palm before leaning forward to meet Derek's lips. 

#avss2021 #avssart #avssfic #a very sterek summer #Sterek #sterek fanfiction #sterek fanart #Fanart #fanfiction #my art #my fic #sterek fluff #sterek love #teen wolf #manga style #I know close to nothing about surfing #so forgive any incorrectness in this

[empressapprentice]

Arcana Headcanons: Infidelity + M6

I’m back with more headcanons, and will be sharing even more soon as I have more free time! My last batch was super sweet and fluffy, these are decidedly not. I’m doing these headcanons as character study exercises, and since the LIs are so devoted to you in-game, I wanted to think about what could possibly motivate them to cheat. Not all of these involve sex because I thought that certain characters would consider emotional interactions cheating on their partner. But warning for non-explicit sexual content for several of the M6--I’d say this is PG-13. These are kind of long, but I felt I needed some good exposition to set things up. I hate how much I enjoy angst :( Feedback and requests are always welcomed: if you hate it or love it, let me know why so I can improve! Plus, check out my Ao3 here, where I’ll be posting these as well.

Asra

Asra will never, ever regret giving up half his heart for you. But one night, he can’t sleep, feeling regret for the friendships and relationships he missed out on because it’s so difficult to form connections with others. He wishes that while he waited for you to recover from the resurrection, he’d been able to let others into his life.

He’s slept with people other than you (Julian, for one), but not since you woke up after the ritual. He realizes that he can’t remember any of his previous encounters. He completely forgot what anyone other than you feels like to hold and to touch.

The next day, he tells you that he wants to take a quick overnight trip to Nopal. With such late notice, you can’t tag along. He just wants to spend some time alone and actually get to know the villagers for once, intending to practice his social skills and break the cycle of isolation he unintentionally maintained with the people there.

When he sits around the fire, eating and sharing stories with the villagers, a handsome young man approaches him. He says that he’s always had a crush on the mysterious magician, but could tell that Asra was never open to getting to know anyone. Asra, remembering that he doesn’t know what it’s like to be close to someone else, starts flirting back. Before he knows it, his lips are brushing against the stranger’s.

The moment their lips meet, Asra pulls back sharply, overcome with guilt for betraying your trust. He shakily apologizes to the young man, saying he didn’t know what came over him. He runs back to his hut, gets on the Beast and travels back to Vesuvia as fast as possible. Faust comforts him as he sobs silently, thinking about never wanting to leave your arms again.

Nadia

Nadia is visiting a neighboring territory and sitting through a very, very boring dinner with dignitaries. She’s been away from Vesuvia for a week and anticipates having to stay for at least one more as negotiations drag on. She’s loath to admit it, but she’s lonely. The letters you’ve exchanged via Chandra only make the separation more painful.

So when a diplomat approaches her with questions about Vesuvia, she’s happy to have some company. She clearly admires Nadia quite a bit and compliments the work she’s done to turn Vesuvia around.

While basking in her companion’s kind words, she unconsciously moves closer to the other woman. It doesn’t take long for the conversation to become personal, moving away from professional networking. And even more quickly, the conversation becomes flirty. When Nadia moves her hand to touch the other woman, her intentions are clear. The diplomat is flattered, but hesitant, asking, “Aren’t you married?”

Nadia is momentarily stunned by the question, but refuses to lose her composure. The lie comes easily, from years of schmoozing fellow politicians. She replies that her marriage is open. The diplomat smiles, unaware of the shame pooling in Nadia’s core. She sheepishly invites the Countess back to her room.

Though the dinner is long over and the party moved into the sitting room for a digestif, many having already left, Nadia finds herself worried how it would look for the two of them to leave together. She hates herself for worrying more about appearances than you, but she’s been particularly hungry for the feel of a body next to her in bed and she’s frustrated at not being able to get what she wants for once. So, she agrees.

She excuses herself, saying that she must retire for the night, and waits a few moments for the diplomat to leave as well.

Nadia excuses herself after the shameful act, saying she must be in her own bed when servants come to wake her in the morning. She spends the rest of the night staring at her ceiling, vowing to never tell you about her indiscretion. You find out, of course, knowing your wife too well for her to hide that something’s wrong.

Julian

One night, he goes to the Rowdy Raven and is mid-tankard of Salty Bitters while animatedly telling the story of how he helped defeat the Devil. When he finishes weaving the tale, he heads back to the bar to another drink. Before he can get his coin purse to pay, an extremely attractive stranger tells Barth to put it on their tab--payment for the entertaining story.

Julian gratefully accepts, sliding into a seat to chat with the stranger. Whether consciously or unconsciously, Julian turns his charm up even more, wanting to make sure he keeps them entertained. They swap introductions, Julian’s natural tendency to call people affectionate names and his rakish attitude being interpreted as flirtation.

As the stranger returns the affection, Julian realizes what’s happening but doesn’t want to stop it. He’s practically glowing from the kind words flowing from the mouth of his new friend and is addicted to the feeling. A nagging voice tells him he should get back home to you, but it is quieted when the stranger moves closer to him, running a finger over his chest.

The stranger downs their drink and gets up abruptly. They tell Julian to finish his drink and meet them in the alley outside, with a cheeky comment about seeing what else his mouth could do thrown over their shoulder as they walk out the back of the tavern.

Julian’s breath catches at the thought of a clandestine alleyway quickie, and he can’t deny how appealing the idea seems to him. He stares at the drink remaining in his glass, fighting a mental war over whether to finish it quickly and run to the alley.

Barth approaches Julian, noticing he was about to finish his latest drink and anticipating a request for a refill. While waiting for Julian to finish, he makes light conversation with him. When he asks how you are doing, Julian bolts upright. His face reddens at the mention of your name, knowing he made a grave mistake even considering the stranger’s offer.

Julian leaves the rest of his drink untouched. He awkwardly gets up, says goodnight to Barth and hopes that he won’t run into the stranger when he exits the Raven out the front door. Mercifully, he doesn’t, but he might not have even noticed, he was so focused on getting back to you.

When he reaches the front door of the place you share, he’s sobbing. Even though it’s late, you are waiting up for him, knowing that he often needs you to offer him water and get him to eat some food after a night out. He falls on his knees before you, utterly broken by the kindness of you waiting to take care of him, and begs you to listen to him one last time. He tells you, again, that he is no good for you and it is inevitable he will break your heart. He confesses everything that happened at the bar, his voice breaking when he says how close he was to cheating on you. He admits in a small voice that he will never be worthy of you--despite all he’s changed, he’s always one step away from hurting you.

Lucio

Lucio is dressed in a new outfit, finely made and very flattering. He is about to attend a party at his estate in honor of the summer solstice. The last step in his pre-party ritual before joining you and making a grand entrance fashionably late is to admire himself in the mirror. He poses and struts in front of it, hyping himself up for the night, but stopping short as he notices a grey hair in his meticulously coiffed style.

Moving closer to the mirror, he is horrified that several other grey hairs have popped out since the last time he dyed his hair, not long ago. Stepping back, he frantically tries to change the style to hide them, shrieking as he realizes the wrinkles on his forehead are deeper than he remembers. The time-honored ritual, which has never failed to put him in the right mindset for a night of socialization, has only made him more self-conscious about his age than ever.

He starts pacing around his room, heels clicking and mind racing. He feels a strange sense of longing for his old life, when he had no responsibilities and never worried about the consequences of his actions. He’s old now, and he wishes for the freedom and stupidity of youth.

When he makes the grand entrance with you at the party, his heart isn’t really in it. He immediately heads for a servant, demanding a glass of hard liquor instead of his usual sparkling wine. One glass turns into several, and it’s not long before he’s very intoxicated. You see Lucio drinking more than usual, but you keep getting distracted by guests and can’t figure out what’s going on with him.

Once he’s drunk enough to not care about anything--just as he intended--he makes eye contact with an attractive woman in a slinky gown and winks. His rough flirting works, as the woman comes up to him. He feels a mixture of pride and shame that he’s still attractive and powerful enough to draw someone in with nothing more than a wink.

They chat briefly, but they both know Lucio desires more than conversation and the guest is more than willing to oblige. He takes the woman’s hand, leading her to an alcove far away from the party and they begin to make out. Soon his pants are at his ankles and they’re doing far more than kissing. It’s rough, messy and fast, exactly the thing he would have done in his life before he got the plague and before you.

The woman leaves him panting when they’ve both finished. His stomach drops as he realizes that this cheap attempt at feeling young again only made him feel worse. He realizes with a start that he jeopardized the thing that actually fulfills him and makes him truly happy.

Muriel

Muriel dislikes social interactions with pretty much everyone, especially strangers. How could he possibly cheat on you when he can hardly stand to spend time around his friends?

But as he becomes more comfortable with being around people, he starts spending time around the Palace. Usually, he’s waiting for you to finish your duties with Nadia so he can walk you home or go back to the shop for dinner, but sometimes he comes early so he can spend a quiet moment in the gardens.

The more time he spends at the Palace, befriending some of Lucio’s poorly-behaved albino animals and trying to train them, the more time he spends with a certain servant determined to befriend him.

At first, they don’t even catch his attention, he’s so used to tuning other people out. But this servant notices his gentle nature and sometimes brings him some water or tea and a pastry while he’s sitting by the fountain. They claim that they’ve been trained to always serve the needs of their guests, but they’re mostly interested in getting Muriel to open up.

After several weeks of Muriel becoming used to the servant and accepting that they can be trusted, he begins exchanging a few words with them beyond a grunted thanks for the refreshments. The way the servant approaches him reminds him of you and he finds he doesn’t mind light conversation to entertain him and distract him from Lucio’s pets.

One day, he realizes with a start that he not only trusts the servant and enjoys their company, but that he finds them attractive. He panics, not knowing how to tell you. He feels so ashamed of himself for letting someone new in and he’s never felt attracted to someone like this before, other than with you. He’s confused on how to handle his feelings and how he should tell you, if at all.

He confesses the situation to Asra before going to you. Asra is very kind and supportive, saying that it is natural to find other people attractive and that it’s a good sign that he is willing to let a stranger befriend him. But Muriel can’t shake the idea that he’s done wrong by you and refuses to come back to the gardens.

Portia

Given how much Portia likes secrets and romance stories, I think a part of her would love the idea of a sneaky romance. Portia is a deeply practical person, but there are times where she can get carried away with romanticism. The thrill of getting away with it and using her knowledge of the secret passages in the Palace, etc. to hide a tryst holds some appeal to her, but she’d feel ashamed of even fantasizing about it.

She has to work on the first night of the Masquerade after the events of the game due to her new responsibilities at the Palace. Out of solidarity, you work too, creating real-time magical spectacles to surprise guests. To keep up the aesthetic, you’re both still wearing costumes and masks.

While Portia is in the ballroom, she’s fretting over the floral displays and a heavily intoxicated person knocks into her, sending the vase flying. Before Portia can even react, she falls into strong arms, rescuing her from the splashing water and strewn flowers. She turns to thank the stranger, and they say she can express her gratitude by granting them a dance. In the spirit of the Masquerade, she accepts.

She and the stranger twirl around the dance floor to a fast-paced song. The stranger is a fantastic dancer and leads Portia through the steps flawlessly. They end the song by dipping her low. The music switches to a slow ballad while the lights dim. Still breathless, the stranger pulls Portia close, and she loses herself in the moment. The ambiance is incredible, and kissing a gorgeous masked stranger at a ball could not be more storybook-perfect. Their lips touch, until a swirl of magical energy brushes her and she remembers you. She steps back from the stranger and runs off, forgetting about her duties, the flowers on the ground and the rest of the Masquerade. She feels horrible about kissing someone other than you but can’t shake the smug pleasure deep inside her that loves her fairytale romance coming to life.

#the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana main 6 #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #lucio morgasson #portia devorak #muriel of the kokhuri #pain and angst #nic arcana headcanons

[pascalslittlebrat]

Drunk Dial

Rating: T

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count: 4223

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, tiny bit of language, other than that this is just some soft shit with a bit of angst

Summary: Javier left you broken years ago. Now he’s back and after a little too many drinks with friends, you can’t help the draw to call him and let the liquid courage try to give him a piece of your mind.

A/N: big thanks to @autumnleaves1991-blog for Writer’s Wednesday, I saw the picture last night and immediately started writing this. Forgive any mistakes I wrote this around 1am and honestly fell asleep at some point. May this make up for the more deep angst I’ve put out😂 Big thanks to @mothandpidgeon for keeping me from overthinking! Enjoy me once again trying to write a drabble and ending up with a One Shot and me being slightly self indulgent in wanting someone to keep my ass grounded during hard shit.

Taglist Masterlist

“Hello?” the familiar deep voice answered hoarsely on the other line. God, how many years had it been since you had heard that grumpy tone?

Your heart races at the sound of Javier’s voice and you couldn’t help but be thankful for the liquid courage flowing through your veins or you’d be kicking yourself for obviously waking him up or even calling him in the first place. “Javiiiii,” you giggle leaning against the phone booth, the coolness of the glass feeling good against your warm skin. “I can’t believe you’re awake.”

“It’s two in the morning I wasn-Y/N?! Are you drunk?” Javier asked and you can hear the frown in his tone. He sits up in his bed the moment he recognizes your voice, of all the calls he expected tonight, he wasn’t expecting one from you. Not after what he did.

You shrug as if he could see you, playing with the cord, “I’m not drunkk, I’m just tipsy and it’s your fault. I had 5 shots because I couldn’t get your stupid big head out of mind.” You pout, your emotions starting to shift, the hurt mixing into your tone. You didn’t drink often for this reason, you always felt so cheery and happy at first but then sadness seemed to always creep up once the drinks started to fade out of your system.

Javier gulps at your answer, he runs a hands over his eyes, wiping away any exhaustion he was feeling. He had been known you long enough to know that tipsy meant you were drunk and you being drunk meant you would definitely need someone soon. “Where are you? Are you at home?” he asks as he gets up, holding the handset between his cheek and shoulder as he grabs his pants off the floor pulling them over his naked form.

“Umm…” you purse your lips looking around, trying to remember which bar your friends had dragged you to for the night. They had forced a girls night on you to keep you from doing exactly what you were doing now, looking for Javier Peña. What had started as just a margaritas at your favorite Tex-Mex restaurant had turned into bar hopping over Laredo.

You mumble a fuck as you turn to face the bar and almost run into the glass of the booth. Javi silently curses whoever had decided to let you drink as much as you had without keeping an eye on you. “Lonestar Bruisers,” you mumble out as you look at the flashing bar sign, watching as the words shift. “What a weird name...I got a bruise though, I hit my knee on the dummy bar stool.” You then gasp the touch of sadness you had been feeling slipping into the emotion of shock, clutching the receiver closer as if you had just discovered some secret and didn’t want anyone to hear, “Javiii! That’s why they call it Lonestar Bruisers, because I got a bruise!”

Javier tries not to smile, you were definitely always something when you were drunk. So giggly and smiley, you always lit up the room even more when you had a little bit of alcohol in you. But he also knew the edge he had heard to your tone earlier, the one that he had learned signaled the courage of the alcohol starting to slip and soon you’d be feeling something worse if someone didn’t get you home and in bed. He always hated to see the way your mind would get the best of you. “Mariposa, it’s Lonestar Brewers. I’m right down the road, are you alone? Tell me you’re not alone,” he asks, pulling a shirt over his head, hoping the image of you standing in a phone booth alone in the middle of the night was wrong.

You almost drop the phone out of your hand when you hear him use his old nickname for you. You feel the tears well in your eyes, the memory of years of friendship and love running through your head, the reason you had even called Javier in the first place, “Y-You can’t call me that. I don’t need you to come, you didn’t even tell me you were back.” Your voice cracks at the last sentence, the old wounds from years passed, open up, the night that caused this all. “And I’m not alone, Kelli and Rebecca and…I think her name is Cassie...I don’t know but I’m not alone… Well I’m alone outside cause duh I’m in a phonebooth but they’re inside, I bet they have shots...I need more shots.”

Javier sighs, he knew he had been wrong to not contact you. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to come back quietly, everyone in town knew everything. So of course word would get around to you that he was back, he had just hoped he had prepared enough to be the one to go see you. He had planned to see you, to discuss the night he threw everything to shit, he just hadn’t found the courage, or the will, not after he was still processing the reason he had even been sent back to Laredo. “Marip-Y/N, I need you to go inside. You shouldn’t be out there alone, someone could hurt you,” Javi says gently, trying to mask his worry, he had seen too many women hurt over the past few years.

He might not have been in Colombia but that didn’t mean that there weren't bastards around waiting for a chance to take advantage of an innocent woman. “No more shots, ask for water, I’m on my way. If you all have been drinking, you’re not getting in the car with any of those girls,” he grits out, just as he knew you, he knew your friend group and Kelli hadn’t always been the best influence on you. He could feel the old irritation towards your oldest friend already flaring knowing she wasn’t watching over you.

“You can’t tell me what to do Javier,” you snap at him as you look out the booth wiping your eyes. It was a dark night, the only glow of light came from the bar’s sign and the street lamps across the street of North Central Park, fog filled the outside air, almost as thick as the Texas humidity. You frowned, hating the shiver that ran up your spine, maybe he was right to go inside, “I’m going to hang up now, I shouldn’t have called you. It’s almost out of time, I’m out of coins, and I just don’t want to talk to you meanie pants.”

“Y/N just sit st-” Javi starts before the line cuts off. He groans running his hands over his face before grabbing his keys and knowing you were definitely going to be a joy when he picked you up.

******

He expected more of a scene from you when he had walked into the bar. You were indeed nursing another glass of alcohol and you had told the bartender how he was the meanie head that you had been complaining about. Javier had rolled his eyes and told you it was time to go home. You had glared at him and made sure to down the rest of your drink out of spite before telling him you wouldn’t leave without your friends.

He dealt with the glares that each one gave him, raising his hand to stop Kelli from chewing him out and refrained from telling her off himself too. You were his sole focus and he wasn’t going to waste any time arguing with someone he never saw eye to eye with in the first place.

You definitely had way too many drinks and she should have known better than to let you get this far gone. For your sake, he would take care of both you and them. He knew that would be the only way you’d let him drag you off anyways, if you knew your friends would be okay. He had called a cab and gave them money to pay for it, before throwing your arm over his shoulder and helping you out as you tried and failed to keep the world from wobbling underneath you.

You argued with him that you could go home with your friends the whole way out of the bar. He silenced you with his narrowed eyes. There was no way he wouldn’t make sure you got straight to bed and not to another place where they might hand you more drinks or be too inebriated to make sure you didn’t get sick or help you if your anxiety starts to hit. He wouldn’t fail you, not in this at least. He always took care of you then and nothing could stop him from doing it now. It didn’t make up for what he did, but it was the least he could do for you after years of leaving you alone, hurt.

“I don’t want to go home yettt! I’m having fun,” you whine as Javi tries to help you into his truck, catching you as you stumble. You’re glaring at him and pouting, arms crossed over your chest as he gets you settled into the seat and buckling you in, “I’m not a child Javier.”

Javier can’t help the chuckle that escapes his lips at your words, especially with just how much of a child you looked like in that moment. He knew if you had been standing outside of the truck still, you’d stomp your foot. “Could have fooled me, mariposa,” he gestures to your crossed arms and you stick the tongue out at him as he closes the door.

He decides he’ll just let you crash in his bed, the ranch was closer than your home and he could still feel how exhausted he was. He hadn’t exactly been sleeping well since he had arrived back in Laredo.

He practically jumps out of his skin when he feels your hand on his arm. He hadn’t expected your touch, at least not out of your own free will. “Javi, you’re not holding my hand, you always held my hand,” you pout out, as you take his hand in yours.

Javi hates it, almost finds it cruel actually,how much your hand still fits perfectly in his hand. How soft and small it was under his calloused and larger one. He hates how much he has missed it, how much he enjoys it. He had always been a man that depended on touch, you had always told him just a single touch from him could tell you how he felt. You had always been good at reading him, knowing that sometimes the simplest touch was just what he needed to keep him grounded to what was in front of him and not spiraling into whatever chaos was going through his head.

He felt the ache in his heart as he remembered the way you would smile at him and call out each touch. “That’s your ‘I love you’ touch.” “That’s your ‘it’s been a bad day’ touch’” “That’s your ‘I just felt like grabbing you ass because I can’ touch” You were silent next to him and he wondered if maybe you were dozing off already, smiling a bit to himself at the old memories. He could only hope that maybe this would be a time you could avoid your sad side effects of drinking.

He gave your hand a squeeze as he pulled into the ranch. “That’s your ‘I’ve needed this, I missed you’ touch” you breathed out and Javier froze, he glanced over at you. You weren’t wrong, as always. You were staring at him intently, gazing at him in the dark, trying to read him. You gave him a small smile and he felt his heart drop at how broken it looked, lacking the complete joy it used to.

He parks in front of the guest house where he stayed, glad that he wouldn’t have to worry about waking Chucho. “Why did you bring me here?” you ask, frowning and pulling your hand from his. Javier misses it the moment you do, hating how he could feel the hurt resonating off of you now. He had caused this.

“We were closer to the ranch. I don’t think you’d make it up the stairs to your apartment either,” he say softly and watches as you just nod before he gets out of the truck to help you out. He opens your door and takes your hand, putting the other on your hip to keep you steady as he helps you down.

The world still feels like it’s spinning and you grab Javi’s shoulders as you lay your head on his chest. He still smells the same as he had years before, woodsy, musk, minty, and something else that was just pure Javier that you could never put your finger on. You can’t help but laugh in his chest as another realization hits you, “You don’t smell like cigarettes.”

“I’m trying the nicotine gum to stop” Javier answers, wrapping his arms around you, he knew at any moment you could push him away again, so he wanted to enjoy the feeling of you holding him close. He couldn’t deny the need he had to be held after everything that had gone on, to just feel the comfort of someone’s arms around him and to be lucky enough to be having you doing the honors? It took everything in him to break the dam of emotions he had going on. The emotions of everything in Colombia with losing Carrillo, chasing after Escobar, working with Los Pepes to still holding onto everything that had happened the night he left and hurt you came to head and it was overwhelming how much he had been choking down.

He holds you tighter, clinging onto you, to keep centered. He focuses on the sense of you pressed against him, the sweet scent of you mixed with alcohol, the way you were holding him just as tight. Then he notices the now wetness against his stomach and his heart clenches realizing you were now softly crying against him, “Mariposa, what’s wrong?”

You hated it, hated that you were now crying against him. How could he still cause you such an easy comfort for you even after he had left you behind with no explanation? It wasn’t fair that after all these years, just his scent and being in his arms still made you feel the safest and at home. You look up at him, tears flowing, moving your hands to grasp his shirt, “Why did you leave Javi? H-how could you just leave me like that?”

Javier gulped,a hand coming back to rub the back of his neck. He wanted to feel like he had been prepared for this conversation but he wasn’t. He breathes out a sigh, wiping your tears off gently with his thumbs, he presses a kiss to your forehead, “Let’s not talk about that right now, let’s get you to bed, we’ll talk tomorrow when you’re not drunk.”

You shake your head, frowning at him. You tug on his shirt to let him know you weren’t going anywhere. You needed the answers, you had spent too long needing them. “No, I want to know now Javi. I deserve to know...I woke up and you were gone...then I have to have Chucho tell me that you had left? That my boyfriend had joined the DEA and left me a note, a-a fucking note Javi! You literally broke up with me through a note!”

Javi’s teeth clench, he always hated seeing you cry, he always tried to do everything to make sure he was never the cause of your tears. Yet he knew it, knew the pain he caused you when he left, the tears you had shed, and seeing it now hurt him, hurt him more than leaving you did. He holds you close to him, rubbing you back as you sob, “I...Let’s get you inside and I’ll answer you.”

You look at him through blurred vision, gently releasing the hold you had on his shirt, leaving it wrinkled from your touch. “You promise?” you ask weakly and Javier feels the pull in his heart, a line formed between his brows and he nodded at you before taking your hand in his and helping you inside.

He sat you down on his couch, helping you out of your shoes, before leaving you to grab you a glass of water. When he returned to your hand on your head, eyes closed. “Drink some water, we need to get you hydrated,” he tells you softly. You open your eyes and look at him, he could tell the sobering up was starting to happen and he hated that he was going to have to have this conversation with you like this. He sits down next to you and hands you the glass of water.

You mumble a thank you to him as you drink before laying your head on his shoulder, shifting closer to him. Javier sighs as he wraps an arm around you, rubbing circles on you shoulder, hoping you’ll doze off. Luck, however, was no on his side, “Javi...why did you leave..”

He sucks in a breath, you were looking up at him expectantly, eyes puffy and red from your tears. “You deserved better than me…” he answers out, admitting what had gone through his head the moment he had signed up to join the DEA.

“Bullshit Javi, I loved you, we were happy...at least I thought… I thought we were,” you trail off in the last part, you had spent years wondering if you had made everything up in you head.

Javier tilted your head up to look at him, he could sense it, you starting to get in your head. “I was happy with you baby, so fucking happy. But I was holding you back, do you think you would have finished your pharmacy degree if I had stayed? You were always so worried about me on the job, I felt like I wasn’t getting anything done here, I wasn’t helping enough people. You remember me complaining about how routine the job felt. I was making you worry and I just...I felt like if I left, then you would be better off. No worrying something would happen to me, you could focus on school, on bettering yourself. I also had found the letter, you got into the best pharmacy school in Texas, and your sister told me you were waiting to see if you got something closer to here because you didn’t want to leave me...One of the guys mentioned the DEA hiring in Austin and I honestly didn’t think they’d accept me but they did.”

You can feel the tears streaming down your face again as you listen to his words. Javi fights back his own, as he remembers how much he beat himself for making decisions without you. “I tried to figure out how to tell you. I just didn’t know how. I was a coward Y/N, here I was trying to go out and do something bigger, yet I couldn’t tell my girl how I was feeling like I was holding her back. I knew there was more danger in joining, how could I worry you more? If I left then I figured you’d leave, go to Houston, become the best pharmacist this damn state has ever seen,” his mouth quirks at the last part and you can’t help the chuckle that comes out. Javier had always been your number one fan in everything you did, as you had always been his.

His face becomes serious again, “I tried to figure out how to tell you...but I knew you’d either try to go with me. I couldn’t let you hold yourself back for me, to change your plans for me. I couldn’t keep you from reaching your dreams… that night...it was different… holding you the last time, I barely slept. I wanted to wake you and tell you everything but I couldn’t find the words. Pops, lectured me, I’m surprised he even gave you the note, he was so angry with me. He thought I had told you, then for me to just leave you that note. I think he was ready to beat my ass. He was disappointed in me for the longest time, could barely forgive me for doing that to you…”

You reach out to touch Javi’s cheek, he closes his eyes leaning into your touch. Every word he said was sobering you up more and more. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m really fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that. I should have been more honest, I was an idiot. I just selfishly decided for myself and left, I shouldn’t have left you like that, you always treated me right, you always watched out for me, you always took care of me. We grew up together and you never got tired of my shit….I just…I thought it was the right thing to do.” He chuckles humorlessly, “You did become the best pharmacist though. Pops made sure to brag about how great you were doing in pharmacy school. He made sure to tell me about you, to keep me updated and to make me feel bad that I wasn’t here to see you doing as good as I knew you’d do. He called me a dumbass for not being here to see you graduate or to watch you open your own pharmacy. I’m proud of you, I was so proud of you, just know even away I was so proud of you every step of the way even though I know I shattered you first.”

You roll your eyes at Javier, you wanted to punch him in his pretty face if you were being honest with yourself. “You’re such a big dummy,” you scoff out rolling your eyes. Your head was starting to pound but you were thankful that your mind felt numbed still, so you could give him a piece of your mind. “You’re lucky I’ve had all these years to accept you leaving. It hasn’t stopped the ache or pain, obviously.” You bitterly think about the amount of drinks you had just tonight. “Because I would punch you right now but of course, you just left because Javier decided to be selfishly unselfish. You should have talked to me Javier, I never felt like you were holding me back. Yes, I worried about you, but so did all the other sheriff wives and girlfriends. I didn’t tell you about Houston, not just because I didn’t want to leave you, but because I was feeling unsure of myself and being a pharmacist too. I didn’t want to disappoint you if I decided to change careers! I would have been so proud of you being accepted, would I have gone with you? Probably. But it would have been MY choice Javier. I would have never tried to stop you from going and even if I didn’t go with you, we could have made it work. I loved you, I loved you so much and you just left me a note saying you were sorry and it was for the best that you left. It felt anything but the best!”

Javier flinches at your words and you sigh before placing both hands on his cheeks making him look at you, “How could someone as intelligent as you be such an idiot?”

You watch as his mouth twitches under your gaze, “Hell if I know, I seem to get in my head too much, don’t I?”

You give him a look letting him know that you can’t argue with him on that and he reaches out to caress your cheek. “I lost myself then, just like I lost myself now,” he mumbles out bitterly and you press your forehead against his, taking him in as you close your eyes.

“Sometimes we have to lose ourselves to find ourselves again,” you whisper out as you meet his eyes.

Javier takes you in, your gentle gaze, the soft touch of your hand going through his hair. It’s the first time since he had touched down in Laredo that he felt at home. “I still love you,” he says before he can stop himself. He had never stopped thinking about you and now with you in front of him, making him feel the calmest he has in years, he knows it’s true.

You freeze and he wants to apologize, tell you that you don’t have to say anything. But you smile at him as a tear falls from your right eye, “I still love you too, big meanie head.”

Javier smiles and it feels the most real it has in days, the first time he feels like he’s not forcing one out. It makes your heart soar seeing it, how you had missed seeing his bright smile.

You don’t know what the future holds, knowing the whispers around town that he would be leaving again soon. But in that moment, wrapped in his arms, his lips softly pressing against yours for the first time in years, it was just you and him and nothing else mattered.

permanent tags: @sleepylunarwolf @greeneyedblondie44

Those who may be interested: @mothandpidgeon @metalarmsandmanbuns @221bshrlocked @wyn-dixie @starlightmornings @waywardimpalawriter @mouthymandalorian @danniburgh @purplepascal042

#Javier Peña x Reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x y/n #Javier Peña Fanfic #javier peña #my writing #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

[moonandsunwoo]

permission to dance. e.s

# — pairing: eric sohn x reader

# — genre: fluff, IdolAU, established relationship

# — warnings: none, just clingy bf!eric

# — listen to: permission to dance by BTS

♡ requested by the sweet @mingiandbaconjam ! Thank you so much for you lovely lovely ask, I hope you like this! Have a nice day! ♡

🪴

When you entered the practice room, you felt like a wall hit you. A very comfy wall, dressed in baggy clothes and a quite nice smelling wall but a wall none the less.

“I missed you so much.” Eric, formerly known as that very wall, mumbled against the crock of you neck, giving you approximately two and a half seconds to catch your breath before pulling you even tighter.

“Hello to you to babe.” Your voice was swallowed up by his oversized shirt but Eric didn’t seem to mind. He just relaxed in your arms for a moment, dramatically sighing when you moved back a bit.

“Damn you act like we didn’t see each other for months.” You laughed, letting your hands drop from hugging his chest into his hands. Eric just shrugged, a tiny smirk tugging on his lips.

“I mean, that’s how it does feel sometimes. Most times, especially when I’m conscious.” He shot you a cheeky wink before you swatted his arm lightly, pulling him down momentarily to press your lips to his.

“Cheesy.”

Eric helped you put away your bag and dimmed the lighting a bit, nodding towards the lose AUX chord.

“Any specifics you wanna practice today?” he asked, pushing an abandoned water bottle to the side before grabbing two fresh ones from the minifridge. You shrugged, connecting your phone to the speakers.

“Nothing specific really…we don’t have a stage coming up or anything. And even if we had,” you gave him a small grin, “I wouldn’t be the one to spoil it.” Eric gripped his chest in mock pain, throwing you a pained glance.

“Not even to your boyfriend? The one providing you with free hugs and food?” you shook your head.

“Nope. And your heart is on the other side, you idiot.” he just waved it off, walking up on you before dramatically pulling you into his chest.

“My heart is right where you are.” Not even Eric himself could hold back his laughter when your eyes met through one of the large mirrors on the wall.

“Can you just not.” Was all you huffed trying to suppress your laughter, leaning back into his touch nonetheless.

“My heart is crying.” Eric countered theatrically, arms tightening around your waist, face once again resting against your neck.

“Better make it stop. Someone could slip on your tears and then what. Are you even insured?” he just giggled before spinning you around so you’d face him.

“Feisty.” You decided to retort with kiss, an answer Eric accepted without hesitating.

Warming up with Eric was as messy as expected and you weren’t sure if you were actually out of breath because of the muscle exercise or because of your laughter since Eric never failed to make an absolute fool out of himself. Besides not being able to keep his hands to himself for longer than five minutes and pecking your cheek about one million times in between.

The moment you probably absolutely lost it, was when Eric tried to show off the splits (and failed miserably) and when you teased him for it, decided to play “Penalty”, screaming along to the chorus. It resulted in you crawling into his lap, covering his face with small kisses to make the yelling stop. He accepted them with a small pout that disappeared fairly quick and let you take your phone out of his hands to find a next song to actually dance to.

He just wrapped his arms around your body and scooted back until his back hit the mirrors, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt.

“What you wanna have next?” you mumbled absentmindedly, scrolling through one of your shared playlists with him. There was a suspicious high amount of slower tunes and you knew for sure that Eric was responsible for all of them.

“You don’t really add upbeat songs, just spicy stuff.” You turned to him, eyebrows risen. “Alina Baraz, Show Me?” his grin turned almost unbearably smug. “Any ulterior motives, Sir?”

“Never baby. Why, you like the song? I should add more The Weeknd, you remind me.” you just hummed, scrolling past it quickly.

You probably spent the next ten minutes like that, you cuddled up in his arms, going back and forth between various songs and genres, when someone knocked at the door.

Eric immediately tensed up at the disturbance, still not used to the fact that the company had in fact approved of your relationship by now (if kept low-key. Which was probably why Eric kept making the biggest fuss over reunions even if you were apart for just a few hours.)

“Yeah?” You called out, drawing soothing circles over the back of his hand.

“It’s just me, Kev! Forgot my water bottle and I wanted to do a live before going to the dorms.” Kevin’s bright beanie came into frame first, before a mildly tired face followed.

“Sure, it’s over there. We’re just practicing some more.” Eric relaxed again, pressing a quick kiss against you neck.

“Yeah I see, you two are super busy practicing.” Kevin huffed, stalking towards the fitted kitchen in the corner of the practice room.

“We were just trying to find a good song to dance to.” Eric whined at the accusing tone of his older brother, pulling you closer against his chest.

“Sure.” Kevin grinned, grabbing the lonely bottle of water before making a bee line for the door.

“Don’t let me bother you two. Just don’t be nasty.” Eric let out an embarrassed yell before aiming with his shoe at the now laughing Kevin. The shoe hit the quickly closing door with a muffled thud, the sound of it falling to the ground drowned out by your laughter.

“So annoying…” Eric just mumbled, burying his face in your shoulder again.

You just grinned, scrolling aimlessly through your playlists.

“Let’s see…oh what do you think about that one…?” Eric lifted his face from his nuzzled position to peek over your shoulder.

“Permission to dance?” you nodded, finger hovering over the bright orange cover.

“Alright let’s go!” he exclaimed, slipping away and scrambling to get up to get his shoe.

A few ungraceful hops on one leg into your direction and some fumbling with his shoe he came to a halt right when the first chorus of the song sounded through the speakers.

“Permission to dance?” Eric asked with a small bow, a grin on his lips. You took his offered hand and let him pull you up on you feet.

“You don’t need permission to dance Eric. Especially not with me.”

also dedicated to all deobi who recognize the spicy songs Eric always plays during his lives, whilst acting like he's totally not doing it on purpose

⌕ m.list

© written by moonandsunwoo on tumblr. do not copy or re-upload.

#multifandomnet #tbznetwork #tbz eric x reader #eric sohn fluff #requested! [♥︎] #words of my own [writing] #the boyz eric #eric sohn x reader #eric x y/n #eric x reader #eric x you #eric sohn x you #tbz x y/n #tbz x you #tbz scenarios #tbz drabbles

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

I got major whumperflies reading Drowning parts one and two... are you planning on continuing it?

Drowning Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

@asrasmysoulmate

It's not much on the whump side, but lots and lots of care, comfort, and fluff with a sick supervillain in there.

Warnings: vomit, bathing, feverish whumpee, delirium, hallucinations

~

Hero gathered the wailing supervillain into her arms and held him like that for a long time. She should've watched her tongue. She should've... Hero sighed, there was no point in thinking about how she could've done better when the deed was already done.

Eventually, Supervillain's sobs ceased and were replaced by a vulgar motion. He was heaving, throat convulsing...

Hero shoved Supervillain's head to the side as his stomach's contents expelled themselves. After he finished vomiting onto the floor, he just laid there, head limp, and allowed the trails of puke to slid down his chin.

Hero was just standing there and staring at the scene infront of her. But, recovering from her shock, she lifted Supervillain up and carried him to the bathroom. Setting him lazily by the toilet, she grabbed an unused toothbrush and slapped some toothpaste on it.

Supervillain gagged again, pain coursing through his lungs and ribs. His stomach hurt, badly, and all he wanted to do was lie on the tempting cool floor...

"Hey, hey, hey, whoa. Are you okay?" Hero asked when she noticed Supervillain keeling over. Now, in the better light, he looked like pure trash. He skin was a ghastly shade of gray with vomit and spit still speared across his lips. Snot bubbled under his red nose and his eyes watered. Hero felt a twinge of pity- here was an insanely sick supervillain, most likely feverish out of his mind, trusting one of his sworn enemies. It was unnatural, but more importantly, unheard of.

"Wh... iturts," Supervillain slurred, quite frankly unable to form a complete sentence.

Hero furrowed her brow. She didn't understand what garbled nonsense made its way to her ears, but she hummed in response. Supervillain seem content with the miniscule answer he received and pressed his burning nose to the condensation build-up around the toilet bowl.

"Want to brush your teeth?" Hero asked, handing him the toothbrush. Supervillain clumsily took it only to drop it. Hero pursed her lips and prepared another. She couldn't risk more germs entering Supervillain's system.

She registered that Supervillain was way too weak and feverish to hold an one ounce toothbrush, so she pull him into her lap, allowed his wet head to relax against her chest, and started to brush his teeth.

He was so tired and fatigued that his lips loosely molded around the plastic brush, head nodding softly.

Hero tenderly brushed each tooth with dentist-like precision and motherly care- if that's not too ironic. All thoughts of their previous encounter vanished; he was in her care now and she would do anything to comfort him.

It was as if her already golden heart was fashioned with another serum of empathy. She didn't have to brush his teeth to get rid of the vile taste- it wouldn't kill him, so why would she?

She also didn't need to bathe him either, and certainly did not need to tip his head back so soap wouldn't get into his earthly eyes. She washed his face with a soft silk washcloth, gently so she wouldn't wake the now sleeping supervillain.

When her instinctual caring of the patient was done, and he was changed into a fresh pair of clothes, she laid him on her own bed.

Hero suddenly reeled backwards. What was she doing? It was like she was in a trance, caring for the villain as if he was an angel from heaven. Actually that might be an understatement...

Nevertheless, amongst doubts and courage, Hero continued to tend for his very needs. Right now, it was sleep; lots of rest and slumber to build up his strength.

Upon waiting for his awakening, Hero started to research about tending someone with pneumonia. Every single website practically screamed at her to take him to a hospital, but that couldn't be done. She couldn't risk other heroes finding and arresting him.

Supervillain stirred, muttering something sleepily. He blinked open his eyes and tried to roll over, but it caused a coughing fit to rack at his ribs.

"Hey, go back to sleep," Hero rubbed Supervillain's hair.

"Why t'robo... chasin'meh?" Supervillain said, scratchy and raspy. Hero followed his glassy gaze to the middle of her bedroom. There wasn't anything there.

"What do you see Supervillain?"

"Robo."

"Hmm," Hero replied, still stroking his hair. She did this until a feverish sleep took him under again. Then, she rushed into the kitchen, grabbed tylenol, a thermometer, and an ice pack wrapped in a washcloth. She returned to find Supervillain still unconscious, jerking with breaths as his sleeping body tried to draw precious air in.

Hero slipped the thermometer under Supervillain's tongue- it was easy now that his face was completely relaxed. When the thermometer barked at her the dreaded 103.5 degrees fahrenheit, she gently shook her ward awake and coaxed him into taking some tylenol.

She placed the icepack on his flushed forehead. The heat radiating off his body began to melt the ice in a short few minutes. Hero started to bit her lip, desperately trying to get this dangerously high temperature down. She thought of all the possible long-term effects...

No. She had to stay focused. Focused and collected. She propped Supervillain upwards to alleviate the mucus build up and went back to work at breaking the fever.

Whether or not Hero succeeded in the end, to draw the dragon away from the nest, didn't make the pleas from Supervillain any less concerning.

He would scream, ragged and fearful, whenever he would awake from a fitful doze. Sometimes, he would beg for mercy from the torture his delirious mind thought he was enduring.

"Stop it! Stop it please!" He sobbed, trying to curl up on himself- anything to escape his torturer's ruthless hand of strife.

"Relax, Supervillain," Hero mumured, her voice stern and firm due to the weary stress, but at the same time her usual chirp. The motherly chirp of a hen that usually brought Supervillain so much comfort.

At these moments, her voice would draw him into another unreality.

"Don' like," he mumbled. "Don' like panda."

Hero sighed, rubbing her tiring eyes.

"What's wrong with panda?" She asked, hoping he was talking about the plaid shirt he was wearing.

"Too warm," Supervillain earnestly explained- or to an extent. Really, to Hero, it sounded like he was trying to get a kitten off his lap. He wanted it, but his resolve was too kind to exactly remove the curled up furrball.

"Your blanket?"

"Fur bear," Supervillain chittered. "Yeh..." His voice trailed off as another wave of lethargic dizziness hit him. He whimpered, resting deep into the plushy pillow.

Hero smiled softly and cupped Supervillain's warm cheek. His fever was breaking, she could tell by the added tan to his blanched face.

It was nearly nighttime. The sun was setting, its rays hitting the pair. Hero sat with her legs crossed and examined his drooping face. He would fall alseep soon, whisked away to a land of darkness and dreams.

Hero left to take care of her own personal needs. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and showered. However, the shower was short-lived and the hero was still lathered in shampoo when she checked on the supervillain. She grinned and finished her shower.

Supervillain was just waking up again when Hero returned with her hair bound and wrapped in a towel on the top of her head. He weakly tried to touch the towel, failed miserably, but still grinned like a toddler and his train toy.

"Want to eat?" Hero asked, remembering the leftover soup in the fridge. Her patient nodded.

Hero fed the supervillain like she did in the morning, slow and coaxing. For the most part, her ward refused to allow the shiny metal to slide between his gums, but at last he consented.

Hero fed him- clutching the mattress to ensure her patience to not rush him. The friendly gesture of kindness ended with Supervillain back in Hero's arms as he dozed off. Hero almost nearly fell alseep too if it wasn't for the repetitive tapping on her door.

Knock, knock.

Hero's heart jumped and she quickly made sure Supervillain was covered. She locked her bedroom door and went to the frontdoor.

Knock, knock.

Maybe if Hero had a window or an eye-hole or something, she could've avoided the looming catastrophe.

Hero opened the door open, only to be thrown against the floor by blast of pure strength.

"Where is he!" Came the all too-familiar voice. It boomed throughout the house, focalizing on the entryway where Hero and the intruder were.

"I said," a dark figure stepped into the light, a hood obscuring the livid face underneath. "Where is Supervillain, Hero?"

The figure stripped off his hood to reveal none other than her fellow ex-prisoner, holding a sharp knife.

Villain.

#supervillain whumpee #hero caretaker #hero x supervillain #injured supervillain #feverish whumpee #sick whumpee #delirious whumpee #pneumonia #writing #heros and villains #comfort #fluff

[theramseyloft]

i read your long pigeon poop post, and after some poking around online i saw that a loft in melbourne australia failed. do you have any idea why that is?

Oh... my fucking God. I am so furious.

Look at this thing!

$70,000 went into this monstrosity?

It looks like they converted a fucking water tower by punching holes in it and welding on entryways shaped like the stereotypical toddler’s first house drawing!

Who fucking researched this?!

Was it designed by a committee purely by aesthetic?!

Here is an article I found on it’s decomission and removal.

https://www.theage.com.au/national/victoria/melbourne-city-councils-70000-pigeon-loft-turned-into-scrap-metal-20160724-gqcmsc.html

According to the pigeon expert quoted in this article: 

“Frank Hayes is the president of the Australian National Pigeon Association. While his group is mostly interested in show pigeons, a different breed to the city pests, he says it was fairly predictable the coop idea was never going to work.”

“ "The nature of the pigeon is that they find a home and they stick with it. So finding them somewhere else to go is a bit of a dream," said Mr Hayes.”

“ "Trying to shift them is one big headache. It's a worldwide problem and no one has ever figured out how to deal with it." ” 

LOOK at this structure!!!

It’s made of fucking METAL!!!

In AUSTRAILIA!!!

In the fucking OPEN!!!!

From this charming article:

 http://melbournedailyphotodaily.blogspot.com/2011/03/pigeon-loft-batman-park.html

“The loft is painted with light coloured corrosion resistant to reflect the heat and minimise internal over-heating. It houses two hundred nesting boxes for pigeon breeding. Eggs laid will be replaced with artificial eggs intended as a humane way to control and reduce pigeon numbers.”

That is a metal structure in the Melbourne sun...

No amount of Paint is gonna make that less an oven.

And I can’t imagine you can add anything to paint to make it corrosion resistant that isn’t noxious in a small space when the metal under it heats up.

“Bird feeding around the loft base is permitted to attract birds out of the CBD to this area. Bird feeding is not permitted in any other area around the CBD.”

But the city council is not actually providing the birds with good quality fed...

“... and no one has ever figured out how to deal with it."

No one, you ignorant twit?

NO ONE?!?!

Here is the site of a successful branch of the German Stadttauben Projekt, translated:

https://stadttauben-stuttgart.de/

“The Stuttgart pigeon project

Dear prospective customers,

nice that you found our homepage. We would like to introduce our project to you on the following pages:

The Stuttgart City Pigeon Project is an animal welfare-friendly concept for regulating and reducing city pigeons for the benefit of people and animals. We operate several supervised pigeon shots in the Stuttgart city area, in which the pigeons are cared for and their eggs are exchanged for dummies so that no offspring hatch. By the end of 2019, there had been well over 45,000 eggs. By feeding grain mixtures in our shots, the animals are no longer forced to look for food on the streets and squares in the area. They spend 80% of the day and the entire night in the dovecote. Ergo - your droppings also stay there and no longer land on roofs or balconies.

We were awarded the Baden-Württemberg State Animal Protection Award 2015 for our commitment .

The city pigeon is one of the most successful residents of the urban living space and today populates all major cities worldwide. It is the free-living descendant of the wild rock pigeons from the coastal and mountain areas in Africa and Eurasia. Long ago, the rock pigeons were domesticated by humans primarily for the purpose of meat production and thus also carried to our latitudes and cities. In modern times, the stock of the archetypal rock pigeon increasingly mixed with breeding, racing and sports pigeons that either escaped, were abandoned or, exhausted by exhausting competitive flights, ran aground in the cities. Today's city pigeons are the overgrown children and children's children of these rock, breeding and sports pigeons.

In cooperation with the state capital of Stuttgart, the Tierschutzverein Stuttgart und Umgebung eV launched the pigeon project in 2008. The cooperation was formed with the aim of bringing about a permanent and humane solution to the city pigeon problem.

The concept of the Federal Working Group for City Pigeons or the so-called * Augsburg Model * was helpful. It is based on scientific publications, practical experience and has already been successfully recommended by several federal states such as Hesse, North Rhine-Westphalia and Baden-Württemberg. Today it is implemented in more than 80 German cities and towns. For example, there are pigeon houses looked after in Aachen, Augsburg, Hamburg, Berlin, Frankfurt, Saarbrücken and Wuppertal.

We aim for a small, supervised and healthy pigeon population in Stuttgart. Then the image of the city pigeon may rise again. Because healthy animals, which have a permanent home and receive animal feed, do not bother anyone!”

https://stadttauben-stuttgart.de/?page=1,0,0,Chronik+%26+Fakten

“Care instead of fighting: our chronicle

2008:The first step was a dovecote at platform 1 in Stuttgart main station

2009:The second blow was made in the roof of the Leonhardskirche

2009:The third pigeon house was on the Mühlgrün parking garage in Bad-Cannstatt, which has since been demolished and replaced by the pigeon tower in the rope

2010:The fourth facility was the pigeon tower in the city garden on Max-Kade-Weg

2011:The fifth pigeon house stood on the roof of the town hall garage until February 2016. Reconstruction on the roof of the city comb in April 2016.

2011:The sixth dovecote was a second stroke on the roof of the Leonhardskirche (other roof side)

2013:The seventh dovecote was built in the roof of the Fairkauf building in Stuttgart-Feuerbach

2014:The eighth pigeon loft was built (as a replacement for the location at the main station) on a flat roof in the Kriegsbergstrasse

2016:Dovecote number 9 was inaugurated in July 2016 at the Marienplatz in Stuttgart in the roof structure of the imperial building

2017:

On Landhausstrasse in the east of Stuttgart, we were able to set up dovecote No. 10 in the attic of a residential building. It was opened in June 2017

2018:In summer, an indoor pigeon tower was opened at Seilerwasen in Bad Cannstatt as a replacement for the Mühlgrün pigeon house

2019In autumn a new pigeon facility was inaugurated at the station in Zuffenhausen and the first egg was laid in December.    

In addition, a dovecote (trailer) on the grounds of the shelter Stuttgart and Nistwand for about 30 pigeons on the will of the ASPCA Stuttgart  House  Adam Müller-Guttenbrunn in Stuttgart Zuffenhausen care.

... more dovecotes are to follow!

Health hazard facts

A health hazard due to pigeons flying around, running and sitting can be largely excluded. New scientific studies have shown (again) that pathogens that may be contained in the pigeon droppings are usually bird-specific and are therefore not transmitted to humans. This was confirmed in 1995 by the Federal Ministry of Health.

The general classification of the pigeon as a pest was withdrawn by the Federal Institute for Consumer Health Protection back in 1989 on the basis of research results at the time and the opinion from 2001.

Feed facts about pigeons

Feeding pigeons in Stuttgart is prohibited on public land. Well-meaning pigeon friends increase the population density of the city pigeons by regular feeding in the same place, without offering the additionally attracted animals sleeping and nesting places where they are tolerated or the clutch can be exchanged. This creates people who work there or often live more pigeon hate and more pigeon misery.

Above all, too many food scraps are thrown away on the streets and squares of the city! This waste is mostly not compatible with pigeons. They lead to illnesses, shortages and thus, among other things, to the unsightly liquid starvation. Nevertheless, due to the scarcity of bird-friendly feed in cities, these human foods are usually the main basis for the feeding of city pigeons, but their organism is designed for pure hard grain feed. So this means sick pigeon populations that nonetheless reproduce disproportionately due to their (pet) genes raised by humans.

If you would like to help sustainably, please contact us. Only other supervised dovecotes in the city area (including food and egg exchange) start at the root of the "problem". We welcome any support!”

From their gallery:

Here is a loft.

Small, wooden, well insulated from heat and cold.

Those openings are not the nests. They are just doorways with a landing ledge designed around the comfort of pigeons, which are social birds.

Here is the inside.

Lots of comfortable nest boxes, perches in the back, food, water, comfortable socialization space...

Here is an entry into another loft currently in use.

Here is the inside.

Water and feed are provided by the care takers. You can see feed and drinking stations all over the floor.

And this is the inside of a huge new loft in Frankfurt.

These German Taubbenhauses are designed around meeting the birds’ needs for food, comfort, safety from the elements, and socialization with their flock mates.

None of these birds had to be coerced or forcibly relocated.

Because their needs were better met, they came on their own.

Look at the $70,000 Melbourne monstronsity again!

More specifically, look at the bridge behind it.

And tell me where you would rather me.

Compact metal tower designed exclusively around convenient human access, metal nest boxes, 0 landing platforms, no socialization space, no protection from the elements, still no choice but to forage for what ever garbage people toss you...

or the comfortably Cool space under a concrete bridge with a convenient water source.

Three guesses what’s more comfortable for the pigeons.

Now, would you rather live under a bridge with constant noise from traffic, open to predators, 

or

A well insulated apartment building with comfortable suites, a spacious common area, and a nutritious free meal plan with clean water included by default.

"It's a worldwide problem and no one has ever figured out how to deal with it."

My ass, Mr. Hayes!

[spookypotato]

Leo - Just Leo 2

Characters by @lumosinlove

Thank you to elisa my beta <3

And thank you everyone for being invested! I did not expect people to care that much, but I'm happy you did :))

part 1

TW: coming out, anxiety, stess

He started sobbing. This is ridiculous. Everything was alright. Nothing had gone wrong. He could cry if they rejected him. He could cry, if everything he feared for became reality. He should not do it now. He had no reason to. 

Finn’s hand on his back and Logan’s on his knees, drawing small circles with his thumbs, grounded him a bit. He tried to focus on his breathing. Leo knew the process. He counted things in his head, took a few more deep breaths and the tears pretty much stopped again. He could feel a hand on his cheek. 

Finn wiped away the wetness there and Leo had to actively hold back the new ones that were threatening to roll down. He inhaled deeply. 

“There you go.”,  came in Finns voice from next to him. “Are you alright, baby?” 

Leo only nodded. He didn’t trust himself with words just yet. He should take a few minutes to calm himself down and then tell them. Bursting into tears in between his words wouldn’t be good for any of them. 

Finn’s hand stopped on his back, feeling the muscles underneath it relax. He slowly got up and went to the kitchen. 

“He’ll just get you some water. Can I do anything else for you, Nutty?”, Logan asked as he also got up to move next to Leo, his hand replacing Finns. 

Leo shook his head. He could feel his throat getting less tight and letting more air through. Maybe even enough to start the conversation, the one he wanted to have for quite a while now. 

He hadn’t practiced. He still had no clue what to say, but he had his boys next to him and his determination had returned. 

Leo downed the glass Finn had brought him. It helped, he was positive, he would get out more than a sentence without crying again. He could do this. 

“So”, he croaked out the same fucking opener he wanted to use less. Now was not the time to try to change his habits. 

“So”, he tried again. Fuck it. “I have something I wanted to talk about with you.” 

Both of his boys looked at him. He felt less nervous now that he had started and was still feeling their hands on his back and knees. He turned a bit to face them both more fully. 

Just start in some way. 

“I don’t want you to call me your boyfriend anymore.” 

And damn. He could have said anything else and it would have been less stupid. He needed to fix this. Logan’s hand was no longer on his back and Finns had simply fallen to the ground next to his feet. He looked over to Logan, who’s eyes were beginning to become shiner than usual. He looked hurt. 

Of course he looked hurt dumbass, you basically told them you want to break up with them. He hit himself mentally for his poor choice of words. 

“Leo, do you not want to be in a relationship with us anymore?”, Finn asked softly, his bottom lip worried between his teeth. 

Seeing both of them this distressed at once seemed to snap him out of his paralysis. 

“No! No, no, no, no, no. I really, really don’t. I would never. You two are the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you so much I meant it differently. I’m sorry.”, Leo had forgotten to take a breath in between. He needed to correct his mistake. He needed them to know how much they meant to him. 

Finn’s expression turned into a more relaxed one, which quickly became confused. “I love you, too. Why don’t you want to be called our boyfriend anymore though?” 

Finn left the question open ended. He provided no potential answers. He didn’t try to guess what was going on, he just asked and Leo was grateful for it. 

He started again. “If I’m going to say this, I need to say it all at once. So until I’m done with the main part, please don’t interrupt me, yeah? I don’t know where this bravery is coming from, but it’s bound to leave at some point. Can you do that?” 

He looked at Finn, who nodded. They both looked over at their boyfriend. Logan was clearly still not over the fact that, Leo almost told them he wanted to end their relationship. A few tears had rolled down his cheeks and Leo moved his hand to wipe them away, tilting his head up so green eyes met blue. 

“Can you listen to me, sweetheart?” 

Another tear rolled down Logan’s face and Leo wiped that one away too. He saw the brunet nodding. 

Okay, here goes ... everything, he thought to himself.

“I’d like you to use they/them pronouns for me, please.”, Leo saw things click behind Finns eyes, but they both knew Leo wasn’t done, so the boys listened as they continued. “I’ve thought about this for a good amount of time and I’m not completely sure how I feel, but I don’t feel like I’m a cis man. I know I’m trans. I figured that out, but I don’t know what label would fit me best yet. I do however know, I’m not a man and I’m not a woman. That’s why I’d like to try out they/them pronouns.”, their stare was fixed on the ground. Leo couldn’t bear to look their boys in the eye. They couldn’t bear a rejection. Curiosity got the better of them though, and dragged their blue eyes slowly off the ground and into brown and green ones.

Leo knew, their eyes must look stressed, nervous or even desperate, but they needed some kind of reaction. 

“If I call you Leo, are you fine with that?”, Logan’s voice came from beside him. Not disgusted or distant, just as loving and considerate as it always was. Hope bloomed in Leo’s chest. 

“Yes.”, they answered the question. “Leo is perfect. It’s gender-neutral and I like it. It makes me feel comfortable. Thank you for asking.” 

This didn’t feel real. Neither Logan nor Finn had moved a muscle in an effort to get up or scream at them or push them away. They were both simply sitting on the couch next to them, listening. 

Finn must have seen the distressed expression on Leo’s face and moved closer, his thigh touching the blonds. At least Leo now knew he couldn’t be that disgusted with them, that he couldn’t even bear to touch them. That wasn’t a lot, but it was a piece of hope Leo didn’t want to let go. 

“Peanut, baby. We love you.”, Logan moved closer to them as well, putting his hand back on Leo’s back, “We love you for you. That will never change. I don’t care what your gender is, the thing I care about is that you are you. That you’re comfortable in your own skin and feel understood and accepted and loved. Unconditionally.” 

Leo was so close to tears again and when one slipped down their cheek, they couldn’t help but let the rest stream down as well. They weren’t sad, but the pure relief they felt was enough to coat their cheeks with tears. 

Logan and Finn knew. Both of them just moved closer and hugged Leo. It was grounding and it actually slowed the sobs down that had started escaping their lips again. Just as Finn pulled back and kissed them on the cheek, Logan whispered in his ear, “Sweetheart, we love you for you, not for your gender. Nothing can change that.”

~~~

The following Monday, there was luckily no practice, so they all slept in. The doorbell was what woke them up at about 9 am. 

Finn grumbled something an got up, kissing them both, Leo on the shoulder and Logan on his cheek, maybe whispering something, but Leo was still to sleepy to care. 

What they did however care about, was Logan getting up as well, leaving them alone in their bed, cold and with no body heat to snuggle into. 

After a few minutes of rolling around, trying to get comfortable again and failing, they reluctantly got up as well. 

“Leo!”, he heard a shout from the main room. 

Answered by Finn in an almost scolding tone. “Let them sleep, Logan. They had a few stressful days.” 

It warmed Leo’s heart to hear them use their pronouns correctly, even after only a day. 

Their boys were in the living room, grinning at them like they knew something Leo didn’t. They probably did. 

Leo was almost in front of them as they pulled out, what had been behind their backs.

Light blue, pink and white was staring back at them. Logan and Finn had bought them a trans pride flag. 

Both of them were beaming and Leo couldn’t help themselves from covering their faces in kisses. They really were loved. 

“We can get another one, if you decide on a label, you like more, but we got you this. You also don’t have to keep it, we just thought you might like it.”, Finn told them.

“And it’s a part of you and as we in this household love all things Leo Knut related, we wanted to have a symbol for that. For you figuring out your feelings.”, Logan added. He got a bit quieter at the end, like he was questioning if they had done the wrong thing. 

Leo’s eyes, their fucking eyes, just didn’t want to give them a break. Tears were starting to form again and they had no way of stopping them. Logan and Finn accepted them. Not only that, they embraced Leo’s gender identity. And they had shown them, just like Eloise and Wyatt had. 

“Thank you.”, Leo got out through their tears, “I love you both so, so much.”

#lumosinlove #harry potter #sweater weather #leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #o'knutzy fluff #o'knutzy #written by meee #leo just leo #leo just leo 2 #coast to coast #trans character #trans!leo knut #accepting boys #pride #trans pride #tw coming out

[sapphicquill]

TAZ Balance: the truth will set you free

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen 

Characters: Taako, Kravitz, Magnus

Wordcount: 2942

“You’re fuming, dear.” 

Taako turns to look at Kravitz when the reaper speaks, trying not to let the thin frown fall off of his face at the sight of his uncharacteristically smug dead boyfriend. From his spot as Taako’s personal body pillow, Magnus laughs quietly.

“I can’t believe he convinced you to teach him this shit,” Taako says with an exaggerated huff. The elf crosses his arms tightly across his chest, sticking his chin up haughtily to hammer home his petulence. Magnus laughs again, the vibrations of it rumbling through Taako’s back like a purr. Taako very courteously does not throw an elbow backwards into the fighter’s stomach, despite how much he would enjoy doing just that. Kravitz lets out a hum, smirk not quite leaving his unfairly handsome face. 

“It’s not my fault Angus got curious about multiclassing as a bard,” the reaper finally says. And, as much as Taako was loath to acknowledge it, Kravitz is right. Taako groans theatrically and pointedly does not actually respond like an adult, because fuck that. 

Angus had approached Taako after one of their lessons together--much less frequent than they once were, before Lucas had gotten the idea to start up a small magic school, but Angus seemed content to return to his first (and clearly superior) tutor whenever the chance presented itself. But instead of asking for some sage wisdom or deeply insightful advice from Taako himself, Angus had asked for confirmation that Kravitz had been a bard before becoming a reaper, then begged for Taako to bring him along for their next lesson. 

Kravitz had been over the moon when Taako begrudgingly explained the situation, and the reaper wasted absolutely no time in devising a lesson plan for the boy detective. Taako had to work especially hard to keep from swooning over his boyfriend’s enthusiasm and instead sulked to their other boyfriend about the cruelty of life. (Magnus had been very little help, the bastard. Taako left with a disgruntled whine when the fighter started theorizing on how to convince Ango that learning some rogue skills could be helpful too, the absolute traitor.) 

“You want to know what I think?” Kravitz asks after another moment of silence. Taako frowns as he finally lets his gaze meet the reaper’s eyes directly. 

“Not particularly, but something tells me you’re going to keep talking anyway, you dick.”

“You’re jealous.”

Taako feels himself freeze for half a second before he can pull himself together. Damn Kravitz for knowing him so well. Damn him and Magnus for making him feel comfortable enough to even let himself be read that easily. Damn them both.

“Oh fuck right off, you’re full of shit,” the elf tosses back almost automatically through gritted teeth. 

“Hey, play nice,” Magnus teases, poking Taako in the side. The unexpected jab sends a fluttering shockwave through the startled wizard, who squeaks before he can catch himself. Kravitz continues to look on smugly, not breaking eye contact with Taako as he scoots further up the bed and closer to the other two. 

“You’re very precious when you get all wound up like this, love,” he murmurs. Taako shifts, instinct telling him to pull away and hide, to clam up and put up an even harder front. A quiet voice that sounded worryingly sweet and comforting tells him to just come clean to the both of his boyfriends. It wasn’t like they didn’t know he was secretly a soft, if somewhat emotionally-deficient, sap. Magnus had definitely figured it out somewhere along that first hundred years, and Kravitz was frighteningly perceptive.

A sudden weight around his waist distracts Taako from the beginning of whatever bullshit emotional spiral he’s about to fall into, his body automatically pulling against the sudden restriction. Though the warmth of Magnus’ arms encircling him from behind sends an innate sense of calm through him, the elf nearly pulls something in his neck as he whips his head toward the human because Magnus, what the actual hell. Magnus has the decency to look a bit sheepish, but resolutely does not let go. 

“Mags…” Taako growls, narrowing his eyes and trying to look intimidating despite the growing fluttering of excitement in his stomach. He’s quickly figuring out Magnus’ plan and is now desperate to not show his hand because fuck, this got different, fast. This somehow turned into Taako goading his boys into absolutely wrecking him for being a stubborn piece of shit, which he hadn’t even considered as an outcome when this mock argument had started. Now, however, his mind is three steps ahead, already craving the feeling of his partners’ touches driving him insane.

Because here’s the thing—Taako, maybe, kinda, sorta actually likes getting tickled. He absolutely would never say as much, even under pain of death (and he is really familiar with how  fucking painful death can be), and the only other being in the multiverse that probably knows is Lup because, duh, twin sister or whatever. So it was always imperative Taako never let on in any way he didn’t exactly hate it when Magnus and Kravitz, whether alone or together, decide to tickle him stupid. He would probably implode from the embarrassment—and what a dumb fucking way to go after everything else. No, that wouldn’t do at all. 

Thus, it’s second nature for the elf to throw out menacing glares and cutting threats, which is exactly what he does as he feels Magnus flex his fingers and rest them at the center of his stomach. He’s unable to resist flinching at the sudden light touch to his bare midriff, though—damn, why did he and Lup convert the majority of his wardrobe into crop tops? 

Movement at the other end of the bed catches his attention, so he redirects back to Kravitz, face pinched and pout sufficiently exaggerated. 

“It’s quite alright, Taako, really,” the reaper says, affecting the tone he usually saves for puppies and small children, the absolute ass, “You’re allowed to want to be Angus’ favorite.”

“Shut up, I do not—” 

The remainder of Taako’s protest is swallowed by a sharp gasp as Magnus draws his fingers across Taako’s stomach with a quick flick

“Do you really think you’re in any position to be bitchy right now?” the human says, smile evident despite his gruff tone. Taako feels his ear twitch as Magnus’s breath skates across his skin and it takes every ounce of concentration he has to not shiver or let out a breathy half-laugh. Instead the elf remains as still as possible, frown almost ridiculously exaggerated and eyes narrow slits focused on Kravitz. The reaper adopts an over-the-top pout—no doubt meant to mock Taako’s own expression—and draws ever closer to Taako and Magnus. 

“Magnus, maybe you could help me convince our beloved to be more honest, hm?” 

The words have barely left Kravitz’s mouth when Taako feels Magnus begin to slowly drag his fingertips across his exposed stomach. Tiny zings of tickly sensation burst across Taako’s skin like low-level electricity and somehow keeping still and silent is the hardest thing Taako’s ever done in his life. He can’t, however, keep the warm bubbling feeling of anticipation and excitement from flooding his entire body, and that, of course, makes keeping still even fucking harder. 

Magnus’ fingers trail lightly across Taako’s abdomen before slowly gliding up his sides. Without really meaning to, Taako squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will himself into a trance by force. This clearly amuses both of his boyfriends, as their joint chuckles echo in stereo in the sudden darkness. Taako feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, one wrong move and he’ll cascade off the side and plunge ten thousand feet—

Then Magnus’s devilish touch reaches the top of his ribs and the dam breaks. 

A steady stream of hiccuping giggles pours from Taako as Magnus gently skitters light tickles across one of Taako’s absolute worst spots and even without looking, the elf can tell that his boyfriends have both got gleeful expressions on their stupid fucking faces. He squirms, trying in vain to block out the torturous sensation of Magnus’ fingers or escape their attack altogether, but that just seems to encourage the fighter. Feather-light scritches instantly turn into fast, fluttering pinches and quick vibrating prods and Taako would be embarrassed about how quickly he dissolves into full-fledged laughter if he wasn’t so busy absolutely losing his mind. 

“Ready to admit you secretly adore Angus yet, love?” Kravitz asks from far too close, Taako can tell he’s almost pressed up against his chest, but fucking of course he isn’t. He can practically hear the mischievous grin in the reaper’s voice when he shakes his head. 

“You leave me no choice, then.” 

Over the sounds of his increasingly frantic laughter, Taako can hear Kravitz speaking the incantation for Zone of Truth, and he’s sure Krav’s crimson eyes are sparkling with mirth. The unique sensation of enchantment magic washing over him barely phases the elf—he’s too preoccupied with Magnus’ deft hands flitting up and down his ribs to really pay it much mind. Taako squeezes his eyes even tighter and attempts to focus on resisting the truth spell, gasping around his laughter, trying to push past the way his nerves feel like they’ve been set alight so he can focus—

And then promptly fails his save. 

Of course he fails his save. How could he possibly concentrate on resisting a Zone of Truth from a powerful ex-bard-turned-Grim-Reaper with Magnus’ fucking fingers skittering across his abdomen, drawing squeaky, desperate laughter from him like water from a well? 

“Now, come on, dove, be honest with us.” 

And then Kravitz is tickling him too, on top of concentrating on a fucking spell, his nimble musician’s fingers skittering ruthlessly across Taako’s hips, and it’s impossible to think about anything other than the fluttering in his stomach, the laughter forcing its way out of his lungs, the pleasant fuzziness already clouding his mind. He can’t even remember Krav’s question, really. Taako’s brain feels like it’s been filled with cotton (but like, in a good way) and he can barely string two thoughts together before giving up thinking altogether. 

“Admit it, Taako, tell us the truth,” Kravitz purrs directly into Taako’s ear and even that tickles like hell, and between that and the two pairs of hands currently wreaking ticklish havoc on him, it feels like every wire in Taako’s brain is crossing simultaneously. He wants this to end and also never wants this to end, why can’t his boyfriends wreck him like this constantly, it’s not fair—

“Tell us, Ko, come on!” Magnus whines, seemingly trying to match Taako’s usual petulant tone as he drills his fingers into the wizard’s underarms and knocks his laughter up at least ten decibels, and that’s what pushes Taako to open his big, stupid mouth. He means to say something about the dumb boy detective, he really does, but instead all he can think about is Kravitz and Magnus making him scream and laugh and thrash around with teasing words and fluttering fingers and, well—

“I—I—” Taako’s voice breaks on a laugh, brain going a million miles an hour and also stuck in the mud simultaneously.

“Yes dear, that’s it, come on, out with it,” Kravitz says while rubbing incessantly ticklish circles into Taako’s sides. And that finally pushes an answer out of Taako, who manages to push through his laughter long enough to speak. 

“I fucking like being tickled, okay?—Shit—!”

Suddenly, the two pairs of hands on Taako’s skin still, and as his laughter slowly dies down, the full impact of what he’d just actually admitted to hits the elf like a cartload of bricks. Fuck. Shit.

Weirdly, instead of instant fiery panic, Taako is filled with a sense of...calm? It’s like someone hit pause on the entire fucking universe. Taako keeps his eye closed and resolutely doesn’t think about what just happened; doesn’t think about anything, other than a burning sense of mortification and the deepest desire for a hole to open up and swallow him up. 

“Nope, okay, that’s—I didn’t—no, fuck this,” Taako mumbles as he sits up, easily breaking out of Magnus’ hold. With eyes still closed he leaps up from the large bed and has half a mind to burn a Teleportation spell to get as far away from his boyfriends as possible before feeling a cool hand wrap around his wrist. Taako can identify the feel of Kravitz’s touch almost alarmingly well, and normally he sinks into it without more than a few grumbled faux-complaints. Here and now, the wizard doesn’t instantly pull his arm from Kravitz’s grasp like he desperately wants to, but he doesn’t move toward him either. Instead, he keeps his eyes closed and pretends he’s literally anywhere else. 

“Taako, wait,” and that’s Magnus’ voice, the one that always makes a small part of Taako melt because it’s so full of genuine love and affection and care and fuck, he has to open his eyes and face the two men he actually definitely loves, shit. He braces himself, not exactly sure what expressions might adorn the faces of his boyfriends but he’s prepared for the worst. 

The first thing Taako sees when he opens his eyes is, unsurprisingly, Kravitz, as the reaper is closer to him. What does surprise Taako is the look Kravitz is giving him. The other man looks—apologetic? 

“Taako, I’m so sorry,” Kravitz starts, and Taako feels his heart stutter a bit, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I should never have cast Zone of Truth and forced you to tell us that.”

And that—

That’s not what Taako had expected to hear come out of Kravitz’s mouth. He’d more or less thought, at the very least, he’d get laughed at. Made fun of. Belittled. Shamed. This is—far from all of that. 

“I—what?” 

If it had been any other time, Taako would have congratulated Krav for actually rendering him fucking speechless, because that’s a rarity. As it is, Taako can’t do much of anything aside from gape, gaze not leaving Kravitz’s crimson eyes. 

“The spell, it didn’t compel you but it forces you to be truthful, and you clearly weren’t ready to tell either of us that you—” 

At this, Kravitz seems to pause, looking like he’s attempting to phrase his words as carefully as possible while still turning over this new information in his mind. Luckily, Magnus, as he always seems able to, picks up right where their Grim Reaper leaves off. 

“You’re totally waiting for us to roast you or something, aren’t you?” 

Fuck, has Magnus always been this perceptive? Taako could have sworn he was oblivious as all hell but no, this is the man he’s known for over a century, of course Magnus knows all his tells. 

“Well, we’re not going to,” the fighter barrels forward, always fucking rushing in, and Taako isn’t sure whether he wants to dive back onto the bed or Misty Step to the front porch to call Lup on the Stone of Farspeech and just scream. 

“Why would we? It’s not like you’ve told us something weird or bad or anything,” Kravitz adds, finally out of his own head. He sounds a little frantic, like he desperately needs Taako to believe him and fantasy Christ, Taako loves him for it. 

“Honestly, it’s kind of adorable,” Magnus adds. Taako finally cocks his head enough to meet the human’s eyes and he’s known Magnus long enough to tell when he’s lying. 

He’s absolutely not lying. 

The sense of relief that Taako expects to flood through him comes in waves. His heart is still beating a million miles an hour (which he hadn’t even noticed, fuck) and it still feels like he could cook a five course meal using only the heat collected on his face, but his desire to run and hide and sulk is retreating, and the space between Magnus and Kravitz is looking more and more inviting by the second. 

It’s the most natural thing in the entirety of the planar system for Taako to lower himself back onto the bed and resume his position lounging against Magnus. Quiet descends on the room and it’s warm, comfortable. 

“We should probably have a real conversation about this later,” Kravitz says, and Taako surprises himself by humming in agreement rather than groaning in protest. 

“Later,” he concedes, and then Magnus is shifting again and Taako’s about to grouse about how a moving pillow is a pretty shitty pillow when—

“So if you actually like getting tickled—”

An involuntary shudder shoots down Taako’s back at this, at Magnus’ voice curling around that word, fuck, and suddenly the great brute’s hands are back on Taako’s ribs and his fingers are slowly tracing Taako’s skin and it’s like a bolt of lightning through his entire consciousness. 

“Then you won’t mind if Krav and I get back to work, huh?”

Despite quickly being overcome by tittering giggles, Taako can sense a voiceless conversation happening over him, and then Kravitz is back in his space and his hands are inching up Taako’s thighs, squeezing and stroking lightly as they go. 

“Yes, Magnus is right—you never actually told us what we really wanted to hear, love,” Kravitz purrs, mischief and affection so clear on his face that there’s no room for Taako’s anxiety to even attempt to convince him of something horrible.  

So instead of spiraling into a pit of despair, Taako revels in the wide grin pulling at his lips, savors the electric sensations rippling across his nerve endings, and laughs. 

#tk fic #tk fic community #tickle fic #taz fic #the adventure zone fanfic #taz tickle fic #taagnitz #lee taako #ler kravitz #ler magnus #it's happened #it's here #my first official tk fic #posted in celebration of national tickling day because of course #sapphicquillfics

[spaceskam]

8 for Malex? Thanks!

*hiding because this took an embarrassing amount of time I'm sorry*

tags: high school au, slight mental health stuff goin’ on, bed sharing

8. bedtime stories [ao3]

Alex never claimed to be subtle.

He watched Michael openly, his thumb between his teeth as he eyed the way he pulled his shirt over his head. He knew this was probably inappropriate. However, Michael was hot and had yet to tell him to stop staring. Sometimes it seemed like he deliberately did things to make Alex stare. So Alex kept on and hoped that, if he was only doing this to make fun of Alex, at least he got something nice to look at.

“Hey, Alex,” Michael called, tossing his sweaty shirt into his bag and grabbing a dry one, “Do you think your brother would mind if I stayed over tonight? I don’t feel like going home.”

Alex swallowed and sat up straight. He looked around at the other guys in the locker room. He was sure one of them would say something. Magically, they didn’t. 

“Clay won’t care,” Alex said, trying to seem nonchalant. Michael closed his locker and looked at him with a massive grin as he pulled his shirt down. His hair was still damp with sweat and it stuck to his forehead. Both of those things together were too much for Alex’s sanity.

“Cool. Meet you after school at my truck?”

“Okay. Yeah.”

Michael leaned close into Alex’s face and gave a mocking, “Okay, yeah,” before he laughed and walked around Alex. He twisted on the bench and followed him with his eyes as he went to the other side of the locker room where his other friends were. They instantly started talking about the game next Friday and how they were playing Carlsbad and how their team’s cheerleaders were hot. Michael didn’t deny it and Alex tried not to feel weird about it.

Instead, he grabbed his back and quickly headed out of the locker room. He hated gym and had put it off until his senior year, but now he was stuck doing it with basically no one to talk to except sophomore loners who seemed content to fail the class. He felt that.

The only highlight of it was Michael Guerin who he got to watch work up a sweat for 45 minutes every single day of the week. He got to watch him play dodgeball with too much enthusiasm and run the mile at the fastest in the class and play put-out with his friends. Alex had, somehow, befriended him when they were freshmen and both the youngest in their math class, so they stuck together. Then sophomore year they had Spanish together, junior year they had chemistry, this year they had gym. It wasn’t much but it was enough to spark an unlikely class-only friendship that turned into a school-only friendship that turned into an actual one.

He was Alex’s favorite person in the world.

The next two classes passed by relatively quickly, solely relying on the fact that Alex wasn’t paying attention and instead doodling aimlessly in his notes. Science was boring, math was easy.

Alex let himself into Michael’s truck because he was a dumbass who never locked it and sat in the passenger seat. His notebook stayed in his lap and he kept shading in the boat he was working on as the parking lot filled with other people going to their cars and people going to their buses. Michael always talked to his fellow football players before he left considering they couldn’t leave until the buses did anyway, so Alex wasn’t in a rush.

When Michael did climb in, he raised his head to get a good look at him. Because he always wanted to get a good look at him. Today, just like most days, he looked gorgeous and lit up from the inside and he was already staring at Alex.

“What’cha drawing?” he asked, scooting to the middle to look at Alex’s book. He pressed up against his side and eyed it, nodding his head. “Nice. I’m gonna get one of those tattooed on me one day.”

“What? A boat?”

“No, one of your pieces,” Michael laughed, shaking his head as he moved back to the driver’s seat. He turned the ignition and Alex stared at the side of his face. “Whichever one you think I should. Think about it.”

And Alex would think about it. It wasn’t even the first time he thought about it. Michael had spoken of getting one of his drawings on him before and the thought was quite possibly the most erotic thing Alex could think of which was ridiculous. There was nothing sexy about that in reality. But… Michael shirtless and having something Alex created permanently on his skin was just so good.

He went back to the drawing before he could entertain putting his tongue on it.

Michael turned up the radio before backing out of his spot and then they were on their way to Alex’s house. He put his drawing down in favor of watching out the window as Michael badly sang along to Nirvana and Beck.

Junior year was the first time Michael had come over to his house and it had felt weird to acknowledge that the person he’d spoken to nearly every day for over two years knew approximately nothing about his home life. Alex had half-assed an explanation about how his mother left and his dad was in jail, so Alex only lived with his brothers. Michael hadn’t judged him, only loudly made it clear he thought Clay was badass for stepping up when he was freshly 18 to make sure the rest of them didn’t get too screwed.

It was a few more after school hangouts after that that Michael confided that he’d been in the foster care system since he was a baby and had been in a group home for the last few years. Teenage boys were a hard sell to foster parents, apparently.

Clay had no problem giving his number to the group home to call for check-ins whenever Michael started staying over. 

“Please tell me he got spicy Doritos because I‒hell yeah,” Michael said, letting himself roam freely around the kitchen. He pulled the bag of spicy nacho Doritos labeled Michael out of the pantry and ripped them open, a grin on his face. Alex could watch it all day.

“Can I steal the bar mix that you haven’t touched in, like, a month?” Flint asked, his gaze stuck on his computer where he was doing homework. His eyebrows were pulled into an angry glare at it.

“Yeah, sure, if it’s still good,” Michael answered, falling onto the couch right beside Alex and holding out the bag to him. Alex shook his head. Michael often got food obsessions and would go a month where that was all he wanted, but during bad days it was the only thing he could eat that didn’t make him lose his appetite. 

Despite the fact that he was all smiles, Alex had memorized the warning signs and knew he wouldn’t be eating dinner.

“Sweet,” Flint said, sliding to the pantry to grab the remnants of Michael’s last food obsession.

One of the warning signs that Michael wasn’t doing great, despite the fact that he’d asked to come over at all and hadn’t just invited himself, was the fact that he had taken any excuse all day to be tactile Alex. He’d spent all lunch and gym with him instead of with his football buddies, he’d wanted to sit closer in the truck, he immediately sat practically on top of him on the couch.

Later that night, he sat beside him at dinner and picked at it, only eating the crunchy asparagus and the edges of the tortilla part of his quesadilla. Alex ate what he didn’t.

Michael took a shower and wore Alex’s clothes and made himself at home in Alex’s bed, all cozy and on his phone with his thumb in his mouth when Alex got out of the shower. When they’d first started spending the night together, Michael slept on the couch or on the floor. One night they’d fallen asleep in Alex’s bed during a movie and now that’s where he went each night.

Alex didn’t mind.

He shut off the lights and jumped into bed, putting on Netflix on the TV and starting up where they’d left off in their third watch-through of The Good Place. Michael scooted closer until they were touching in some way, his eyes still partially on his phone and partially on the TV.

It should’ve bothered Alex. It should’ve felt like taunting. Occasionally he did feel the need to shake him and ask him if he really wasn’t seeing how much Alex was into him. Was the staring not enough? Was the way he got a bit dizzy whenever he realized Michael was beginning to smell like Alex’s shampoo not enough? Was Alex’s eyes tracing every bead of sweat that rolled across his face like he hadn’t had water in weeks not enough? Was every single one of Michael’s other friends mentioning that they acted “kinda gay” not enough?

But mostly Alex was fine with it. Michael was safe here and comfortable and Alex wasn’t going to ruin that by wanting something more. So he would keep his hands to himself. He wouldn’t be subtle, but he wouldn’t be overbearing. He would just be Alex and hope that was alright.

“Alex,” Michael whispered, moving until his head was on Alex’s shoulder. Alex hummed in response. “Can you tell me a bedtime story about your boat?”

Alex smiled and shifted, his fingers slipping into Michael’s hair. Michael tilted his head up until they locked eyes. They were so close, just like every time Michael requested a bedtime story, as if that was the only acceptable time to be less than an inch away from each other’s face. Alex very quietly thought that their entire friendship felt like one.

“Once upon a time, there was a very loud pirate captain,” Alex started, watching as Michael’s thumb slowly started gravitating towards his mouth again, “He was old and held very strict beliefs. If you disagreed, he’d throw you overboard.”

“What a dick.”

“Mm, yeah, very. Anyway, he was always angry and his crew were like ‘shit, what if he’s lonely’ and decided they needed to get him a friend.”

“Oh no, poor lonely pirate man,” Michael said around his thumb.

“Poor lonely pirate man indeed,” Alex agreed, nodding solemnly, “So they searched high and low for anyone to be his companion. Not someone on the crew, but someone who would be his equal and separate from his employees. It was a very complicated task. They would find people who seemed good, but then the pirate captain wouldn’t like them and kick them out. It happened so many times they almost gave up. But eventually, they found an astronaut who seemed like a good fit because he was very smart and very happy.”

Michael pulled his thumb from his mouth with a loud pop, “So they really searched high, huh?”

Alex huffed a laugh and nodded, combing back his hair. His heart thudded in his chest as he stared at him, at his interested and tired eyes. God, he was so into him. Every single bit of him. Even when he needed moments like these.

“Yeah, really high. And they brought him back to the boat to meet the captain and they really, really thought he would hate him. But you know what? He didn’t. They actually got on quite well. And the captain started becoming a lot less angry,” Alex said. Michael shifted, pressing closer.

“And did the astronaut change?”

“Mhm. He got to relax too. He didn’t feel like he had to be super smart and happy to make everyone else happy anymore, he could just be himself. He could even be sad sometimes and that was okay because he had someone who liked him no matter what,” Alex explained, “He even would stop at islands to get his favorite foods.”

“Were they just best friends or were they in love?” Michael asked. Alex swallowed carefully and scanned his eyes over his face, trying to gauge what would be a better answer.

“They started as just best friends,” Alex decided, “But they fell in love. They were both. Somewhere in between.”

“Somewhere in between?”

“Yeah, like, not quite just best friends and not quite together romantically. Something different. Something special,” Alex tried. Michael watched him closely. In the background, Eleanor watched herself fall in love with Chidi for one of the hundreds of times they fell in love and Alex tried not to be too poetic about it.

“Alex,” Michael said, his hand dropping between them, “Are we somewhere in between? It feels like we are”

The question was honestly innocent but Alex stopped breathing, not knowing how to answer. He had a football player cuddling up to him in his bed. He should say no. He should save his own ass. He should keep it to himself.

But Michael was comfortable enough to cuddle him, to be babied when he needed it, to be raw and open.

So why couldn’t Alex?

“Do you wanna be?” Alex asked. Michael blinked. “Or… like… do you wanna be somewhere… not in between?”

“Like, on the other side? The romantic side?” Michael clarified. Alex nodded slowly, unsure. “Does it mean I get goodnight kisses?”

Alex let out a slow breath and laughed cautiously, “If you want them.”

“I want them,” Michael said assuredly. Alex couldn’t fucking think straight and he was just smiling stupidly at him. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Goodnight kisses, right here,” Michael said, tapping his lips delicately.

“Right. Okay.”

Alex moved his head just a little to give him a soft kiss, barely lasting a few seconds. He didn’t want to be too presumptuous. And, still, it was probably the best kiss he’d ever had in his life. His heart was trying to escape his chest.

He was really doing this. This was really happening.

“Did they live happily ever after, Alex?” Michael asked against his lips. Alex breathed and nodded.

“Yeah. They did.”

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #title tuesday #alexmanesss

[luvvewan]

EEEE can you do 11?? Obi wan and qui gon JA time period? :D

Thank you very much for the prompt, @general-flame ! ❤️ I realized after writing this blurb that you specified Jedi Apprentice and this actually follows new canon/Master and Apprentice. I hope you enjoy it anyway but feel free to send send another JA prompt and I’ll try to be more observant! 😬

11. “I need you to breathe for me. Slowly – in and out.”

—

(then)

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the bleary afternoon sky above him, sullen and swollen with dark clouds. He immediately vomited, and his confused head thought it must be rain water, this tepid liquid rushing up from his guts.

He tried to take a deep breath, but made a clumsy gulping sound instead. Warm pressure settled on the nape of his neck, and he felt the Force, suffused with healing, yet strained.

Panicked.

He tried to wrench away from the touch. His fingers dug into the grainy earth. He tasted the grain—no, sand—in the back of his throat. It was going to fill his lungs, but he wretched again. He could not stop, overtaken by great, shuddering heaves, the Force more shadowed than the sky, dark with fear.

I should not be afraid to die.

I am Jedi.

Hands beat on his back, while another clutched his arm, keeping him upright, although he was very tired and his vision had dissolved along the edges. A vice squeezed his lungs, the hand squeezed his arm. Voices drifted down from the clouds.

“Obi-Wan—“

“Steady now. Breathe, kid.”

Two voices; he didn’t recognize the second. He tried to obey it anyway, letting the order override his body’s twitchy, mindless reactions. Obi-Wan spit out wet sand, but didn’t vomit, which allowed a thin stream of air through. Then more. The sharp pinch in his chest eased. He wanted to suck in the clean, sweet air, glut himself on it. He sputtered instead, and the hand moved along his spine, wide palm stroking up and down.

“Easy,” A different voice, lower, closer. “Focus on calming your heart.”

Master. He was suddenly shaking, even though it was the opposite of what Qui-Gon wanted, and there was a skittering flurry in the Force, and he realized his heart was pounding as if it wanted to burst out of him. He was going to puke, ohhh—-

“Qui-Gon, he’s—“

“I know.”

Despite the cacophony in his ears, Obi-Wan could hear the disappointment there. He blinked up, forcing his eyes to center on the vague face-shape hovering above him. Water dripped onto him, this time from the ends of Qui-Gon’s long hair. He was looking at Obi-Wan.

Blue eyes striated with grey. Like the sea.

Obi-Wan coughed and shivered. “What,” he started to say, but was unconscious before he could finish the question.

What do you know?

—-

(now)

“N-N…”

“I need you to breathe for me.”

Obi-Wan choked and sputtered.

“Slowly-in and out,” Qui-Gon braced his Padawan’s shoulders in an attempt to ground him. Though instinctively he wanted to draw the trembling young man closer, Qui-Gon remained at the edge of the sofa, giving Obi-Wan space. In the chaos of the moment, it was difficult to remember the healer’s suggestions, but he was getting better at it.

Unfortunately, Qui-Gon had already been provided several opportunities to practice.

The Force energy surrounding Obi-Wan pulsed with rapid, unfiltered emotion—confusion, panic, fear. Qui-Gon felt the echoes of terror, as clearly as he could still hear the desperate gasps from that day, weeks ago. When the attacks came, Obi-Wan sounded like he was struggling for air.

Drowning.

“Do you want the lights on?” Qui-Gon asked softly.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were screwed shut; after a few seconds he nodded.

Qui-Gon waved on a glow lamp. The common area of his quarters looked aggressively normal, unaffected, their tea cups from earlier in the evening still sitting on the end table. It was only the blanket, thrown onto the floor, that spoke of any unease.

He picked it up, shook it out and draped it over Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “That’s it. You’re doing better. In and out.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked at Qui-Gon. His chest was still fluttering spastically, but as the minutes passed, he took more and more control, until at last the wild-bright panic faded. Obi-Wan sagged against the sofa.

“Well done.” He held Obi-Wan’s gaze, something that had been hard to do, as of late. He wondered when he would be able to look in those gray eyes again without remembering how they had widened with terror, silently pleading for help. Qui-Gon had failed his Padawan that day.

And now Obi-Wan was staying with him, rather than in the apprentice dorms. Obi-Wan had insisted it was unnecessary, embarrassed by Qui-Gon’s offer. But he was not sleeping, and Qui-Gon could not sleep either, imagining his Padawan in the throes of these ruthless attacks, alone.

He had made enough mistakes with this young man. He would do what he could to fix it.

Obi-Wan was glancing around the room, as if discreetly scanning for danger.

Qui-Gon understood that it was a side effect of the anxiety and trauma. As the soul healer explained it, Obi-Wan’s close call triggered primitive responses in his brain. His body currently perceived threats even in safe places, like his Master’s rooms in the Temple.

Or perhaps he is right to sense danger here, a niggling voice in the back of his head pointed out. After all, you did not protect him. Far from it.

He gingerly squeezed Obi-Wan’s knee. “I’ll get you some water.”

Obi-Wan blinked. In the weak amber light, he looked younger than his twenty years. “Alright. Thanks.”

Qui-Gon glanced at the chrono when he walked into the small kitchen. Close to daybreak. So it would be another early morning. He returned with a glass of cool water.

Obi-Wan took it with a quiet ‘thank you’ and sipped. His hair was flattened on one side of his head, the other half standing in riotous spikes. Qui-Gon had begun to believe the regulation Padawan cut in human males existed to endear them to their teachers. He smiled and smoothed the sweaty hair with his palm.

He noticed Obi-Wan’s mouth tense and his eyes dropped to the glass in his hands.

“You have no reason to be ashamed, young one.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “No, of course not. All senior apprentices lose their minds and have to sleep on their Master’s couch.”

It was meant partially in jest, but the words twisted Qui-Gon’s heart nonetheless. He set the glass on the table and leaned back on the sofa, crossing his arms over his sleep robe. “You have not lost your mind. Healer Che said this is not uncommon after a traumatic event.”

“Nor is it common.” Obi-Wan started to fiddle with his braid, then caught himself. “I don’t see how it’s especially traumatic,” he confessed, looking at Qui-Gon with bloodshot eyes. “I just need to learn how to swim.”

—

They were Temple-bound while Obi-Wan recovered. Unlike a physical injury, the parameters for mental recovery were ill-defined. Obi-Wan went to appointments with a soul healer; he rarely spoke of what was discussed in the sessions. Qui-Gon got the impression that his Padawan firmly wanted to move on, and was both irritated and discouraged by the attacks.

Qui-Gon wanted to move on too, of course. He and Obi-Wan had only just begun to mend their relationship after the fateful mission to Pijal, and Qui-Gon’s near-acceptance of the Council seat.

He sat on a bench in a less-traveled area of the Gardens. His eyes burned from interrupted sleep. The episodes were becoming much more frequent, nearly every night. He worried for Obi-Wan, who was currently sitting in a lecture, undoubtedly exhausted.

If he was a more experienced Master, would this all be easier? Over and over, he grappled with the idea that Obi-Wan needed someone like Mace, or even Yoda. The boy was so different from him. He never knew if he was providing Obi-Wan with the tools he needed to thrive, as a Jedi or as a person. Pijal had proved to Qui-Gon he could not give Obi-Wan up, nor were their problems insurmountable. He had returned to Coruscant with hope, and turned the Council’s offer down.

And then, on their very next mission following Pijal, Obi-Wan almost drowned.

Since then, Qui-Gon’s thoughts dwelled on a conversation he’d had with Obi-Wan, back when he still intended to join the Council.

“I’ve never taught you to swim, have I, Obi-Wan?”

“No, Master. But I know how—well, a little bit.”

“We’ll practice. Every Jedi should be able to swim like a Mon Calamari.” *

He could forgive some mistakes he had made as Obi-Wan’s mentor. Obi-Wan was his first Padawan, assigned to him by Master Yoda, and there were bound to be stumbling blocks. In this case, Qui-Gon had no excuse. For years, it had not occurred to him to ask Obi-Wan if he knew how to swim.

He had assumed, as with so much else in this relationship—assumed somewhere along the way, Obi-Wan had learned how to swim. He should have taken Obi-Wan to the Temple pools as soon as they returned from Pijal, as he had pledged to do.

Their lives were busy. He had forgotten.

He cleared his throat, looking out at the vibrant greenery. He remembered swimming with Master Dooku. Qui-Gon could swim, and swim well, before his first proper mission as a Padawan. Why had he let so many things slip with Obi-Wan? Admittedly, in the beginning, Qui-Gon had felt shades of resentment towards the boy, foisted upon him when he had not asked for such a sudden and complete change. Yet he had grown to care deeply for Obi-Wan, despite their differences. He thought he had done his best.

Pijal had opened his eyes. But not enough, or else he would have corrected the vital lapse in Obi-Wan’s skills as soon as he was made aware.

“We’ll practice.”

There were nightmares of his own, in which he was too late, and Obi-Wan did not…he refused to give the image life or dimension now, in the Gardens, amid other Jedi and the optimistic light of day. Yoda would tell him not to dwell on what-ifs. Certainly Qui-Gon had been reminded recently enough that dreams were easily misinterpreted.

He would bring up the swimming lesson with Obi-Wan, he decided. It was a start.

—

*dialogue excerpts taken from the novel Master and Apprentice by Claudia Gray

#star wars #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan #master and apprentice #qui-gon and obi-wan fanfic #prompts #luvewan fanfic

[elencelebrindal]

Saw the passive abilities question, so now we have to ask: what passives would all the golds have?

I am SO sorry this took me so long to answer, but here I go!

Of course, I went the "creature the zodiac sign is linked to" way.

Aries:

You know how rams headbutt each other to assert dominance? The Aries Saint has the ability to headbutt people without gaining brain damage as a result. Well, jokes aside, rams can charge at incredible speed before attacking and have considerable endurance, so maybe the latter is what I can give the Aries Saint as an innate ability? Fights between rams can last for hours, so I bet the Aries Saint can keep fighting for much longer than a Saint normally can.

Taurus:

Rather than an ability, I would say the Taurus Saint has a tendency of being red-green colorblind, as bulls generally have dichromacy. In addition to that, I'd say the Taurus Saint is always the strongest, at least on a physical level, because bulls have incredible strength.

Gemini:

Well, I don't know? The gemini zodiac sign literally represents twins, so... I have no idea what kind of ability I could give the Gemini Saint, aside from an innate capability of bickering with their twin.

...

Okay, I'm done joking. Gemini represents Castor and Pollux, the Dioscuri, who are known for being excellent hunters and horsemen. With this in mind, I'd say the innate ability of the Gemini Saint is exactly that: riding and hunting. And this Saint can hunt anything.

Cancer:

... I thought I had no idea of what do write here, because, well, the constellation is literally just the crab that bit Hercules while he was fighting the Hydra. There's nothing associated with it, save for this fact, and that it was placed among the stars by Hera. But then I remembered that I'm supposed to take into account the animal itself as well, and crabs? They can themselves so well you can't notice them even if you walk right past their hiding spot. So this is what the Cancer Saint's ability. Hiding. Which, if you ask me, is an extremely useful ability, no matter how proud the Gold Saints are.

Leo:

I wanted to say "the Leo Saint has the ability to run after a laser pointer" so bad, but then I remembered that one video I watched of lions being completely uncaring of laser pointers so... guess the joke died before existing. Anyway, the Leo Saint is probably known for ability to deliver short but powerful attacks, just like real lions. They don't have much in terms of stamina - remember, we're still in the superhuman category here - but they are powerful by default. Also, using the Nemean lion to my advantage, I'll say the Leo Saint can't be wounded easily. Just for a silly comparison: if another Saint lands face-first into the ground, there's going to be blood right away; is a Leo Saint lands face-first into the ground, there's still going to be blood right away, but only because Leo would kick in the teeth whoever slammed him on the floor. Basically, it takes effort to draw blood from a Leo Saint.

Also, a Leo Saint that's also a woman has a more refined hunting instinct, because I watched way too many documentaries in my life and I know that a lioness does 99% of the hunting work and it's better at it.

Virgo:

Does the ability of never getting laid count?

This one is tricky, because Virgo represents Astrea, the celestial virgin and goddess of innocence, purity, and precision. Since these don't really qualify as abilities, I looked into her mythology and remembered that she's closely associated with Earth. Because of this, I believe the Virgo Saint's ability is to communicate on a deep, spiritual level with the essence of Earth and its creatures. Which is not too far from what's actually depicted in canon, after all.

Libra:

The Libra Saint can always find the perfect balance. Doesn't matter if it's physical or metaphorical, Thanos would die of envy for how perfectly balanced everything is for this Saint. Aside from this, which is more of a practical ability, the Libra Saint has also the amazing capability of being always able to find loopholes in laws (Libra represents justice and law, so... yeah), and can always know if someone is innocent or guilty.

Scorpio:

Oh, here I go, let me butcher my sign completely. My first thought was that the Scorpio Saint is actually venomous (god, I hope I used the right word, we only have ONE in Italian for poisonous and venomous). Not like a certain Pisces Saint we know and love, of course. Just like with Taurus, it's a characteristic and not a passive ability, but I do have something else as well.

And that something else is an ability to survive even in the worst, most dire conditions. Scorpions, unless you straight up crush them under your foot, are extremely difficult to kill. They have a tremendous immune system, they literally don't drown, they can slow down their metabolism when there's no food around, you can freeze them completely and they'll just walk away once thawed, and they can live in harsh climates with no issues. In light of this, the Scorpio Saint is extremely difficult to kill, and can resist most life-threatening conditions with ease. I'd say is a good passive ability to have, for sure.

Sagittarius:

It goes by itself that the Sagittarius Saint has the innate ability to be absolutely amazing with bow and arrow, but another passive ability they have is horse riding. Lastly, since the constellation actually represents Chiron, the Sagittarius Saint is an excellent mentor and teacher, better than anyone else.

Capricorn:

Goats can climb near vertical surfaces, and so can the saint of this constellation. It's a really useful ability, especially when it comes to stealthy missions and the like. Alongside this, the Capricorn Saint is probably a really good swimmer, since the constellation is half goat and half fish, although not as good as the Pisces Saint.

Aquarius:

Oh, here we have some troubles. The Aquarius constellation represents Ganymede, Zeus' freaking cup-bearer. He's a hero, yes, but he's known for having enchanted Zeus enough to gain a place in the Olympus as an immortal. What does this leave me with? A Saint that has the air association of the sign, the water association of the constellation, and the fascinating beauty of the myth.

Let's just say that the Aquarius Saint has the perfect mastery over ice (which is canon) because air and water? Come on, it's the only thing I cant think about. That's the passive ability, an insane control over water and air that translate in mastery of all ice things. Plus the ability to enchant even the gods, because the Pisces Saint is not the only enticing person of the Sanctuary.

Pisces:

I'd say the passive ability of the Pisces Saint is swimming like a mermaid, aka quickly, efficiently, and without needing as much rest as a normal human. Some powerful Saints can also find themselves able to breathe underwater, but it's a rather rare ability that doesn't show up often, and not many are willing to try breathing underwater just to make sure.

And that's it, since the other somewhat passive ability I love to give every single Pisces Saint (and not only the canon ones) is venomous blood and plant toxins immunity.

I don't know if I nailed or failed this answer. I'm mostly going off of stuff I know out of the top of my head, because I'm a sucker for nature documentaries and documentaries in general, so there might be some stupid things sprinkled here and there.

Doesn't matter.

Once again, sorry for taking so long, and thank you for the interesting ask!

#saint seiya #i cavalieri dello zodiaco #los caballeros del zodiaco #os cavaleiros do zodiaco #knights of the zodiac #gold saints #passive abilities #meta

[sirtwentyofhousegoodmen]

Prompt: Arcturus at the birth of Sirius

November 3, 1959

"Pacing like a madman isn't going to make this go by any faster, boy."

Orion—dutiful as always—only nodded at the pointed remark from his father, eliciting a light sneer from the patriarch.

Honestly—not a hint of anger, nor even frustration at the jibe. Arcturus almost savoured the day when his son would finally tell him what he truly thought of him, but, rather like the boy Walburga was currently bringing into the world—it was slow to come.

As always, all the men of the black family were gathered in the drawing room, smoking cigars and drinking brandy. Cygnus was looking positively sloshed, no doubt because this boy that was being born was meant to remedy his own mistake in siring only daughters. Alphard was as inscrutable as always, damned vagabond. Pollux was red-cheeked and merry, oblivious to his son's misery, puffing on his cuban with the utmost gusto.

This was what was left of the Black Family.

He was starting to see some truth to all his grandfather's curmudgeonly ranting.

Orion's pacing grew all too wearisome after a few more minutes, and Arcturus found himself at his limit.

"By Salazar, boy—sit down!"

Orion turned to him, a shocked look on his face before acqueiscing. Arcturus didn't fail to notice the tense jaw.

Good. Let the boy stew a bit more—only a matter of time before he finally grew a spine.

The occasion was bittersweet for Arcturus. On the one hand, Orion's marriage to his abominable cousin finally producing something of worth was cause for celebration—on the other, it showed just how far the Black family had fallen.

All their hopes hinged on an infant boy—it was difficult not to be bitter about the fact. And with his brother Regulus's death just a few months before, it had put the Black patriarch in a foul mood that hadn't ceased since. Only Melania knew how to navigate his temper now, and even her subdued manner grated every now and then.

As if on cue, the aforementioned woman burst into the drawing room, dress slightly disheveled and bags under her eyes speaking of tiredness.

His poor wife—to have to manage twenty-seven hours of Walburga's screeching. He would get her a gift one of these days—perhaps that rare orchid she was eyeing when they went to Nott Manor. She'd never said much about it, but Melania didn't say much about anything. One had to read between the lines with her, and even then the woman's emotions were as mysterious as the day was long.

"A boy, dear—practically perfect in every way!" She beamed, then walked over to where Orion sat, shell-shocked at the news, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Well," Arcturus groaned as he stood—one of these days he might very well need a cane, his leg had been killing him these last few months. "Best not dawdle—let's go see my grandson, Orion. Unless, you wish for me to wait until after you've seen him first?"

Orion turned to him, then after a moment's hesitation, shook his head deferentially. "Of course not, father—you're more than welcome to see him with me."

For God's sake boy, anything! Call me miserable, tell me I'm a bastard, one sign of dissent to show you've a man's spine!

Rather than voice this, Arcturus merely harrumphed in dissapointment and followed Orion out of the drawing room, all the way up the stairs. The walk was—like much of their meetings—silent and uncomfortable, punctuated by the mutterings of the portraits as they went by.

Reaching the door of the room Walburga was in, Orion dallied for just a second before finally collecting himself and opening the door.

When they entered, Walburga was quite obviously miffed with her husband for allowing his decrepit old father to push him into coming along with him. Honestly, you'd think he was still in the nursery sometimes, yanking on his father's pant-leg for the slightest bit of attention!

"Orion," she greeted, smiling in a manner best described as murderous. She turned her flinty gaze to the elder. "Arcturus."

"Walburga," Arcturus nodded back. "I'm here to see my grandson. Or do you intend to hide the boy away forever?"

Her eyes narrowed, giving her smile an even more brittle quality to it. "Certainly not. Please, Arcturus," she emphasized the name, shooting her husband a glare for good measure, "Come meet our son."

Orion approached her warily, as if she were Mephistopheles himself, whilst Arcturus had no such compunctions and walked forward confidently to the bed.

When he caught sight of the boy, he smiled.

Black hair, aquiline nose, grey eyes—A perfect Black specimen. Perhaps Walburga wasn't the worst choice for Orion—Nightmare she may have been, she had little of the Crabbe looks aside from her eyes appearing blue in a certain light. Orion, on the other hand, looked more a Macmillan than some of his cousins who actually bore the name. Their son was a testament to Black genetics—bearing the name on both sides, as well as the looks.

Arcturus nodded, an approving gleam in his eyes as he took in his first grandson. "The boy's every inch a Black. Fine job, the both of you. You especially, Orion."

Walburga looked mightily offended at Orion being given extra commendations, seeing as how she'd just spent twenty-seven hours bringing the newest black heir into the world—but her husband either didn't notice or didn't care as he stuttered over his thanks for his father's first compliment in what must've been five years.

"Thank you, father." Orion turned back to the boy, all his focus on his son, and a smile that could be called tender growing on his face. "He's perfect, Walburga."

Her face softened at that, and she even allowed herself a small smile at her husband. "Would you like to hold him?"

Orion nodded, gleefully, before taking hold of his son as if he were made of the most delicate china in the world. He gazed down at the boy lovingly, smiling like a madman at every coo and fuss that came from the boy as if he couldn't believe he were real.

"What will you name him?" Arcturus asked, breaking his son out of his downright womanish fussing after allowing him a generous amount of it.

Orion's smile grew larger, if anything, and he stared up at Arcturus hopefully.

"Sirius," Orion said, and Arcturus felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over his head. "For my grandfather."

"You didn't even know your grandfather," Arcturus said, half an accusation. Orion heard the harsh tone and flinched, caught completely blindsided.

"I meant to honour him," Orion replied, nervously.

"If you'd known him, you'd know he wasn't a man to honour or emulate in the least." Arcturus fired back, an anger and resentment he'd stewed over since he was nine years old bubbling to the surface.

"Orion meant it for your father," Walburga said, each word coming out through gritted teeth. "But I was the one who chose it—and I had your great-uncle in mind."

Arcturus blinked. "Ah, well then I suppose it's not too," he shifted his feet, uncomfortably, "bad a choice. Let me see Sirius then, Orion—or do you mean to hog him forever?"

Orion, snapping out of his hurt, nodded fervently and placed the boy into his father's arms, hovering over his back as if anticipating his fall.

Arcturus evaluated the boy closer, and he saw it—those eyes. Black they were, but he could see the impudence in them from a mile away. The baby, oblivious to his grandfather's test, reached up and yanked a hair off his mustache.

"Ow!"

Orion rushed forward and took the baby out of his incensed grandfather's arms, hushing its giggles as if worried his father would take even more offense to them.

"Impertinent little—," He sighed, running a hand over his face.

"Father, I—"

"It's not a problem, Orion," Arcturus replied, spitting out every word with the utmost venom. "I'd only suggest watching the boy in future—there's an impudence there that I like not."

Orion looked at Arcturus as if he'd grown two heads, but nodded. Walburga, in the corner, looked to be trying to muffle a fit of cackles with her pillow.

Impertinent whelp.

#noble and most ancient house of black #harry potter #the black sheep dog #ozymandias #walburga black #sirius black #arcturus black #orion black #cygnus black #alphard black #pollux black

[leisurelypanda]

Fantasy Thundershield Concept - Steve's a water spirit of a secluded spring deep in the forest. Humans almost never wander far enough into the forest to find his domain, so he's never had much interaction with them, or even seen them up close.

One day, a travelling knight named Thor passes through the area, weary from his long journey. Upon seeing the spring, he decides he can afford a little time to bathe and relax, stripping off before he slips into the water with a sigh of relief. With the coolness of the water easing the aches in his muscles, it doesn't take long for him to drift off to sleep seated on a shallow rock shelf at the pool's edge.

Little does he know Steve's been watching him with fascination this whole time, unable to tear his eyes away from this handsome stranger. Once Thor's asleep, he creeps closer through the water to get a better look, running his hands over Thor's body and hard muscles in curiosity. Thor's cock takes up a lot of Steve's attention, especially as it begins to lengthen and harden in his hands.

Meanwhile, Thor thinks he's been having a very pleasant dream, moaning and growling softly in his sleep under Steve's ministrations. Until he awakens to find this lithe, beautiful spirit straddling his hips and staring at him with those beautiful blue eyes, his bare ass pressed right up against Thor's erection. Lost in each other's eyes, it seems only natural that Thor shift his hips ever so slightly. Just at the right angle to slowly push his cock up into his companion's ass, their moans filling the still air as Thor takes Steve in his arms properly and draws him out into the deeper waters to continue their union.

Ooo this is such a delicious idea and it's so different from lots of fantasy AUs!

Thor is probably a knight or prince out on a quest to slay a monster or something. It's as much for glory as it is to help people who are being threatened by it. Instead of finding monster, though, he gets hopelessly lost in the forest while searching for it.

The spring is fueled by a nearby volcano so that it's always pleasantly warm, even in the dead of winter. It also contains several minerals that are good for the human skin. Additionally, since it has the blessing of a water spirit, the water contains magical properties that heal the wounds of those who drink or bathe in the waters, as long as they pose no threat to the spring or the environment around it.

Thor, being a human, has no clue about this, of course. All he knows is that the troll that was threatening people who live at the foot of the mountain is nowhere to be found. He's yet to find the cave where the mountain troll is supposed to dwell. Still, it’s been two days and nights of travel. Thor’s beginning to believe that the troll has either moved on or that the villagers were simply mistaken about what happened to their missing friends. 

In the failing light of the third day, Thor happens upon the hidden spring. Steam is rising gently from the water and Thor sees an opportunity to relieve his sore muscles. It would even be a good place to rest for the night if he could manage to find some food in the traps he’d set up earlier. 

He quietly strips out of his clothing and armor and tests the water gingerly with his foot. It’s pleasantly hot, but not so hot that it hurt to touch it. He sighs luxuriantly as he lets himself sink into the water. He sits on one of the rocks in the pool that’s the perfect height for him. It lets him lounge in the pool, the water rising up to his shoulders. 

Unbeknownst to Thor, Steve was idling his day away in the spring. It comes from an underground river and he’s spent his whole life, however long it’s been, exploring it and the surrounding mountain. The spring is his home and he prefers to keep it hidden, especially from humans. 

This one, however, found it on accident. Steve is almost insulted that someone has come into his home without so much as a “by your leave,” but the stranger’s beauty stills his tongue. the man is built like a mountain lion, all corded muscle and long limbs. The grime that washes away from his skin reveals its glowing tan and his hair is long and golden. 

It doesn’t take long for the human to fall asleep in the healing waters. As soon as Steve is sure that he is, in fact, sleeping, he rises from the depths where he had been watching the stranger. 

Steve’s not a complete recluse. He has met other spirits. The creature that the village at the foot of the mountain calls a troll is actually a spirit of a cluster of rocks at the top of the mountain. He wasn’t very bright, though. Probably why he said his name was “Brock,” because the name was similar to what he was. There were other spirits. Bucky, the spirit of the pine forest that covered the mountains here, was much more well traveled than Steve, and he said humans weren’t very interesting. They fought and quarreled and they cut down his precious trees. 

Then there was Peggy, the spirit of the ice that covered the top of the mountains. She had a much more gracious view of humans. She said they were warm and kind, the food they made was delicious, and though they struggled to survive, they also found time to frolic and enjoy life. 

Steve wasn’t sure what to think, but he’d never thought to venture too far from his spring or the river that ran through the mountains. If he followed it, he might run into humans eventually, but he preferred this spring. So this was the first time he’d ever seen one a human up close. What surprised him most was that neither Bucky nor Peggy had told him how attractive they were. As he neared the sleeping human, he began to touch him. He felt the strong muscles beneath his skin. He ran his hands over the rolling expanses, letting his fingers follow the mountains and valleys that formed on the man’s body. 

Were they all like this? If so, perhaps there was some reason to seek the humans out on occasion like Peggy did. 

Then, of course, Steve arrived at the human’s cock. it was the most fascinating thing about him, so far. At first, it had been soft. Impressive, but soft. The longer Steve spent feeling the man’s body, the longer and harder it became. This was another thing neither of his friends mentioned. He stared at it in fascination. It was true that his body looked like a human’s but he had never actually thought much about it. 

He lets instinct take over. It always seemed to work in the past. Where the instinct came from, Steve couldn’t say, but he climbed into the man’s lap and lined up his cock to his hole. As he began to sink down on it, he moaned as the thick cock stretched him open. The sound caused the man’s eyes to open. They looked at each other for a while. Steve’s hands were braced on the man’s chest. A moment later, the human put his hands on Steve’s hips and began thrusting up. Steve moaned and Thor captured his mouth with his own in some kind of strange human ritual. It’s not unpleasant, but it is a bit strange. 

Steve soon got the hang of this strange human ritual. Their tongues slid against each other as the human thrust up into him. It was the greatest pleasure that Steve had ever felt. The longer the human thrusts into him, the greater his pleasure grows. Steve can’t help but moan. His moans grow louder and louder. The human’s cock goes so deeply into Steve’s body that Steve can practically feel him in the depths of his very soul. He can’t get enough of it. 

The human comes with a loud growl. Steve feels the hot liquid fill his ass. A moment later, Steve himself is pushed over the edge with pleasure and it bursts from him. It’s a feeling he’s never experienced before. The whole spring seems to resound with the waves of his pleasure as his entire being practically glows with it. 

As soon as it’s done, he gasps and looks into the human’s eyes. He looks back into Steve’s with a warm smile. 

“I must be dreaming,” the human says. “But in case I am not, my name is Thor.” 

“You’re not dreaming,” Steve says. “My name is Steve.” 

Thor pulls Steve into another one of those human mouth rituals. Steve is more than happy to allow it to happen. He has no idea how long the two of them bask in the pleasure they give each other. Spirits perceive time differently from humans, after all. All he knows is that when they finally stop to really rest, Thor’s armor is covered in rust and his clothes have been claimed by the earth. Thor doesn’t seem to care, though. He finds a nearby cave with a pool in it that’s connected to Steve’s river and makes his home there. 

Down the mountain in human society, there are tales of a valiant knight who tragically ventured up the mountain in search of a troll. Some stories say it was a manticore or a chimera or a dragon, but all stories say that he never returned. The village packed up and left in search of a less spiritual mountain. Meanwhile, Thor and Steve live out their long years together. He meets Peggy and Bucky and other spirits as he travels the mountain range with his lover. What exactly happened to him to make it possible for him to live so long is unknown to him, but Steve and his friends take to calling him the spirit of the mountain. He never really considers returning to the world of humans. He prefers to spend his days and nights, years and decades and centuries, in the arms of the precious water spirit who captured his heart. 

#cinderellasfella #thundershield #ask #thor #steve rogers #thor x pre-serum steve #fantasy AU #water spirit Steve #lemons