wait a goddamn second...

some rich evil person: sorry who even are you?

greg, literally just some guy: well, therein hangs a tale,

calling for my dog and she wont come no matter how much i scream and after a while just standing by my side dad forced-casually goes oh yes i forgot to mention this. i gave her to this guy earlier lol. then walk-runs away from me before i could process what he said. just.

nooo don’t start committing unnecessary fouls romero your so sexy aha

my dad is so ... silly (derogatory). i'll mention how a journalist or news company is very blatantly ethically controversial or even just how the basic fundamental unspoken rules of journalism are broken through them and he'll challenge how i know that information as if journalism is not a part of what i am literally going to college for. yeah dude you're so right the multiple classes i've had to take on ethics and laws in journalism (and creative works) don't make me understand what i'm talking about i'm just talking out of my ass <3

"Raeliana, Stay by my side..."

You're telling me Scar got the monopoly on sand in his hermitpermits and Grian got the other half of the sand monopoly by getting red sand in his hermitpermits...WHY GOD WHY! IM IN THE GOD DAMN BUILDING AGAIN! IT'S LIKE EVERY TIME I MANAGE TO SEE THE END OF THIS GOD FORSAKEN DESERT IM TELEPORTED BACK INTO THE RING!

Love was never a game to him (Cardan BYYOUIAMFOREVERUNDONE Greenbriar) LOVE HAS NEVER BEEN A GAME TO HIM AND WAS ALWAYS ONLY A FOREVER

SAME ANON FROM THE CHILDHOOD READER WANTING TO PROTECT AJAX AAAH!! MY HEART… I LOVE THAT SO MUCH!! Foul Legacy getting love and comfort makes my heart go Q__Q <3 <3 I love the idea of FL falling for reader once he returns hELP PLEASE??? Imagine they would ruffle or pet Ajax' hair when they were young after the abyss and Legacy is just <3 <3 just little small things for him (that they'll definitely do with FL now, free affection <3)

Ajax may be strong and dangerous, same goes with big mothman, but that is not gonna stop reader from protecting them. owo (I hope it's okay to send another rambling aah! I live for childhood AUs so much and I love the scenarios you make!! ;v ;)

HEHE YOU ARE SOSO WELCOME I ABSOLUTELY LOVED WHAT YOU SENT IN <3333 (original ask here!!!)

you being a source of genuine affection for Ajax... when he returns from the Abyss, he's clearly changed, and no one but his family wants to be near him. no one but his family- and you. all the other children your age fear his newfound violent tendencies and stay as far away as possible, but you have no shame in jumping on him in a hug, swinging your hands back and forth together, or ruffling his hair, your innocent childhood combined with your protective nature. and Ajax, oh, he craves the small things you do for him, the wonderfully casual way you spend time with him instead of walking on eggshells like everyone else. whenever you squeeze him or playfully pat his head, he feels safe, like his fall into the Abyss never happened, and he can almost believe it if it wasn't for the creature chittering ecstatically in his mind- Foul Legacy's not used to even the slightest bit of affection, and it overwhelms him at first as he falls for you as much as Ajax has

when Ajax gets sent to the Fatui, he eventually grows accustomed to the lack of contact, the way his coworkers either regard him with fear or distaste. when he returns to you and experiences your affections again, now wholeheartedly love, he feels like he's melting into your arms and nearly cries. Foul Legacy's not used to being protected- in the Abyss, life is ruthless and cold- and furthermore he doesn't really need to be protected, but when you look up at him with a slight frown and tell him that he's worth being protected, no matter what, he almost breaks right then and there. the sensation of you holding him, an Abyssal monster who only escaped by latching himself to a mortal, like he's something precious makes him tremble with emotion- so many emotions he's never felt before- and he allows himself to indulge and lean into your touch, the same soft pets you give Ajax. eventually Foul Legacy lapses into slumber and vanishes, leaving a tired, teary Ajax in your arms, who pulls you close into a tight hug, begging for just a moment longer

oh great. I'm being sanctified again.

SOBS tell me why this guy just asked me the most difficult question LIKE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT

Adding onto this, aka, a continuation on how the boys and Layla all connect to each other through writing, I headcanon Marc and Layla wrote letters to each other.

This was something I thought more about when I was reading a piece of @betweenthescarletmoon 's writing (that is not out yet but trust me, when it is, it'll be amazing).

Marc, we know, is not good with words. He is intimately aware of the weight they carry and the severity of marks they leave behind when delivered certain ways. He knows that hearing them screamed can have the same effect of hearing them calmly while staring at a stoic face and spoken in a voice devoid of proper care. A voice wiped free of motherly recognition and warped into something just as long lasting, something just as imprinting. He's witnessed the impact a simple slur in the speech can have on the words themselves. He knows how many times a mean name can ring through someone's head at night. He's regrettably aware of the intricacies words take on when used as weapons, more so than when they're used to give affection and endearment a sound with some vowels and some cadence. Hearing words, it leaves impressions. Sometimes life-long, sometimes the impressions throb and ache with no end in sight.

When he meets Layla, her voice gives words a new meaning, somehow.

It becomes his favorite sound. He finds himself hearing it when it's not him she's talking to. Over time he memorizes the way her accent wraps around her syllables, recognizes the lilts and the pauses, making them truly her own. There's an openness and liveliness, sweet and genuine, distinct and addicting to listen to. Soon, he doesn't have to look at her to know she has a smile on her face, or when she's suppressing one. He anticipates the fond teases and stumbles a little bit more in love with her when they come as a surprise. He learns the tones that ask for help, and the ones that ask for advice and levity and sincerity she seeks out only from him.

He understands what comfort she wants when she quietly recites French poetry, loves the way even the foreign words can't escape her accent, and almost chokes on his beer the first time she jokingly imitates his own Chicago drawl. She fails horribly with the most shameless laugh, breathlessly weak in her posture as she leans into him and it's so dangerously endearing, Marc can barely swallow the rest of his drink. It's the first form of intimacy they share, these calm whispers when on missions together. Steady little somethings he found himself drinking up when it was just the two of them strategizing their next move, hanging onto when the mission got ugly, clinging to when it was the only thing he wanted to hear in the wake of a violent flashback.

Her voice brought a safety he couldn't always navigate but craved nonetheless, like a flame's inherent thirst for oxygen. Her words, though, they left marks he didn't know words were capable of.

Tender marks. They didn't sting, they tickled when she playfully spoke them in their early mornings under the sheets. They didn't bruise, they soothed when she softly spoke them in their moments of panicked uncertainty. They didn't burn and cut, they learned and healed. They didn't hurt. They ached, but only from the relief they brought. Because Layla was always better with them than he was. She was fearless, he thought, so articulate. What she gave him, he could only ever dream of giving her.

He didn't want to break what they had by spilling his thoughts too harshly, making them come out all wrong. What if he's careful and it still comes out like a scream? What if he's quiet and it still comes out louder than it was supposed to? What if his words fall out and stain her in welts like a belt stains skin? He knew reaching for her hands instead of talking won't always be enough.

It's their fifth mission together when he gets the letter.

They're not actually on the mission together; the operation is widespread, putting them almost in separate countries. He reads it once, realizes even without her speaking the words to him that he can still hear her voice in them, and then reads it again. It's brief, despite it being a good while since they've seen each other, though Marc reads it a third time, eyes lingering on the 'I miss you' at the end. There was a permission to believe it, seeing it like this, so permanently expressed on the page. Something he could keep without the threat of it fading from his memory, or being overshadowed by the conflicting voices in his head telling him he's a horrible person for dragging her down to his depths.

He writes back, finding that fear of speaking in the wrong way finally subdued. The words come and he wonders how much of him she hears when she reads his reply almost two weeks later. It's a comforting routine they start, whenever they spend time away from each other, providing him physcial peices of her words to carry around with him.

The night before he leaves her, he notices a yellow clasp envelope in their closet, holding the other half of the conversations that he had stashed away in his backpack, in a nearly identical envelope. The storage locker was strictly meant for the essentials, he tells himself, carefully pulling the envelope from his bag and sliding into one of the totes tightly pushed up against the wall, half wondering if what Layla and him used to have even existed anymore. If keeping the letters is his way of...processing. He thinks of the postcards littering the fishtank in a layout with no rhyme or reason and can't help but find the connection. Keeping pieces of people who no longer exist.

Tl;dr -> Marc is a damn simp, rightfully so, and we love him for it.

Okay, now I'm gonna do Jake next :)

binging ur yeosang fics rn

hihi

HES SO BIG BRO I DONT GET IT HOW DID HE GET SO BIG SO FAST ??? CLOSE THE GYMS

cloSE THE GYMS

you ever genuinely feel guilty for playing god with your ocs . like you made the world like that for them . i keep thinking about how one of my ocs was so happy . lived such a good life and now hes ruined . and i feel so bad for this because it was so unfortunate and this never had to happen at all and he couldve stayed happy