#like genuinely he is out of ideas and needs to go

[yan-randomfandom]

I've been reading the fanart. You have a natural talent for creating a more distinctive personality for the Saja Boys from the bits and pieces they gave us in the movie!

Ever since that fanart where the Saja sneaked into the reader's room, I couldn't stop imagining what they would be like sleeping alone with her, as if every day of the week except the weekends they will take turns sleeping with the reader or something like that.

And again, I love your writing. I hope you like the idea. Have a nice day!!!

Saja Boys x GN!Reader

a/n; anon thank you so much heheh!!! this one isn't too accurate to your idea, but i love it and i hope it's still okay!

summary; physical touch with the boys and why they wanna go to your bedroom :))) (touch starved. written separately but they all live in the same housing)

warnings; stalking (watching you sleep), body curious, touching w no permission, nothing sexual tho!

— 🍃 [Monday]

Here's the thing, guys. The boys don't actually need sleep. They're demons. Sleep isn't something their bodies need—instead it's something they want. They are still aware and can feel through touch, which is exactly why they'd prefer to sleep with you.

You're warm, so alive, and they don't know it yet.

Surprisingly enough, Jinu is the first one to knock on your door.

"Jinu?" you drawl, voice laced with sleep. He stands awkwardly by the doorway, patiently waiting for you to process what's happening. Glancing idly at your sleepwear and dimlit room.

You yawn, widening the door. "What's up? Need something?" You pause, raising a lazy accusing finger. "Wait. You're not here to suck my blood, are you—?!"

"What? No!" Jinu gasps, almost offended. You sigh out of relief anyway.

"...We're not interested in physical bodies. Anyway, uh, sorry for waking you up. I just need to see how our socials are going," he explains as he steps into your room. "You can power your computer and go back to sleep."

As soon as you heard the word 'social', you were already turning it on. "'kay, buddy. You sure you don't need help, though? I know I taught you a bit but I understand it can get confusing—"

"No, no," Jinu huffs, denial flooding his form. "I can do it."

"You remember how to turn it off?"

"Yes. Don't worry."

Then you fall asleep next to him, your body slightly pressing against his. His eyes slowly drift away from the glow of the computer screen to your sleeping form. He stares for a moment.

Soft, warm. It reminds him of the past on how he couldn't sleep with his own fam—

Jinu pulls the computer plug off and teleports away.

—💐 [Tuesday]

Baby made you piggyback him. A lot. It was sort of your fault.

You saw the Saja Boys taking turns carrying him—it was a pretty funny ordeal. Then you jokingly offered to piggyback him to see what the hype was about.

He accepted it all too eagerly. As soon as his full weight falls on you, you're genuinely surprised at how light he is. It's probably equivalent to a box full of volleyballs.

"You're lighter than I thought," you say, adjusting your arms behind his legs.

Baby suddenly lets his head rest on yours. "Why are you so..." Warm. He buries himself into your shoulder, his arms tightening around you.

"Why am I so what?" you ask, turning your head, only achieving to tickle him more.

He doesn't let you go for the rest of the day.

And by extension, night.

You tried to complain at first. "Didn't we agree to—"

"Just this once, please?"

You folded.

He snuggles all comfortable within your arms, acting as the little spoon, greedily content in your warmth and breathing.

But then you wake up with his mouth on your skin. He wasn't biting, sucking, or anything. It was just.... there.

Still, though, you assumed the worst.

"I thought you said demons don't suck blood, Jinu!?!"

"We don't!!?!"

—🪷 [Wednesday]

Abby wanted you to touch his abs for some mysterious reason. Yapping about how "no one else will have this chance," or "you might not live long enough to feel it!" and "I actually haven't let anyone touch my artificial abs yet" — it was really weird, but you shrugged it off and agreed anyway.

Like hell yeah. Sure, why not?

So he unbuttons his shirt, all giddy, and watches as you reach for his skin.

You make contact with his abs. Caressing it gently, it feels normal in texture — but you suppose it's a little too cold. The fact didn't totally sound weird at the time.

Looking up, you flinch at Abby's expression. You thought he'd be smiling, like he was the whole time, but he looks so serious that it's actually concerning. He's not looking at you; his eyes were down and fixated on your hand.

You notice, pulling your hand away from him, and snapping your fingers. "You okay?"

He blinks. "Uh."

Later that night, Abby welcomes himself into your room.

He stares at you from the corner. From the center. From the edge of your bedframe. On your bed.

Sometimes, he'd gently let his hands roam over your exposed skin. Mostly your warm hands. And your warm face.

You wake up to find his face in front of you.

Screaming, you unintentionally kick him in the abs.

"Ow, my perfectly crafted abs!"

— 🪻 [Thursday]

Mystery almost lost it when you pat his head.

You did it voluntarily. It's a nice, comforting feeling as you pat his shoulder, his arm, and his cheek. He utterly melts under your casual touches without a single word.

He loves it. You leave him demanding for more. So, Mystery decides to linger around you like a guard dog. Who hopes to be spoiled, who wishes to be held.

But, then, night comes.

"You're not exactly allowed in my room," you say, only to pause when he straight up whimpers.

... You folded. With a sigh, you step away from the door and give him space to walk in.

He happily skips into your room, flopping face-first on your bed. You stare at him for a moment, thinking about how despite them not being human — they really love to rest.

You lie down, feeling Mystery move around under your blanket, closing your eyes when he finds himself comfortable against your chest.

Your chest rising and falling with every breath—Mystery simply can't help but feel envious.

— 🌺 [Friday]

Romance is confused.

There's a buzz between his band members — apparently, they visited your bedroom? Didn't they agree to avoid that specific place in this house?

He doesn't realize he's been staring blankly at nowhere. Reality hits him hard when something gentle touches his hair.

"Might wanna style your hair again, Rome," you chuckle, brushing his hair with your fingers. He shivers when your skin grazes his forehead. "You got the bed head. Though I guess you just snap your fingers and it'd be all okay."

You leave right after that, but Romance keeps staring at the last place he saw your figure, his fingers fidgeting with the hair you just touched.

Okay. He gets it now.

Next day, you woke up with him hovering over your head.

You suddenly grab his shoulders, push him back against your bed, breathing heavy from the shock. The bed sinks under both your weight.

Romance stares immensely up at you.

"You guys," you breath, "will be the death of me."

He smirks. "I can only imagine."

— krazy

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Anniversary gift

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ Suggestiveeeee, lots of fluff and simp men, 🧶 anon i used all your ideas :p let’s hope i did it justice, let’s not question who took the photos for reader lol

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You give them a book of very spicy photos for your anniversary

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He’s seated cross-legged in the sun-drenched studio of your estate, purple hair tousled, shirt entirely unbuttoned. Blue-pink eyes are completely locked on the glossy little album you gave him.

He was quiet for a while.

Too quiet.

Then he flipped the page and let out a sound that could only be described as an emotionally-compromised whimper.

“Pearlie… what are you trying to do to me…”

Another page flip.

“You’re actually unreal, baby. This isn’t fair. I’m gonna have to fight a god for this level of beauty. I’ll duel the moon. I’ll—”

He presses the album flat on his chest and throws himself backward on the floor, groaning, curling around it like it’s sacred.

The first photo, you, in a cherry-red bikini, towel wrapped low on your hips, the string of your top cheekily untied and draped over one shoulder, hair tousled from ocean spray. There’s glittering salt on your collarbone. The light hits your skin so perfectly it looks airbrushed.

“This is art. You are art.”

“You knew what you were doing… you minx.”

The second photo, you in your bridal veil, no clothes but a sheer white cloth draped carefully around your chest and thighs, pearls in your hair, eyes all soft and sleepy. There’s a vintage hand mirror in your hand. It was his.

He gets emotional.

“My wife. My muse. My everything. You expect me to function after seeing this?”

The third photo, the tasteful nude. Just your bare back, wrapped in white fabric from the waist down, lounging against the satin sheets he brought back from the North Territory. Your hair’s loose. There’s a fresh bouquet behind you.

“You have one hour to explain why I can’t paint this right now.”

“Actually, No, I’m starting now. I need my brushes. Baby, I’ll cry if you don’t let me immortalize this.”

Rafayel becomes insatiable. He needs a new photo every week. No, every four days.

He makes a whole cabinet drawer in his art room just for them, lovingly labeled “The Pearlie Archive.”

He carries his favourite polaroid in his coat pocket.

If he has to go to a meeting, and someone annoys him too much? He’ll look it mid-conversation just to soothe himself.

Eventually, he even makes a rotating sculpture series based on the photos, each titled something stupid like “Wife in Moonlight No.3 (She Looked At Me After This One and I Died).”

And of course, every time you hand him a new photo with that bashful little smile?

He groans, presses his face into your neck, and says—

“You’re evil. A beautiful, perfect little devil, pearlie.”

“I’m gonna spend the next 17 hours painting your elbow.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

The two of you return to your estate after a private anniversary dinner at Linkon���s most exclusive restaurant. He’s been looking at you all evening like you’re the only woman on earth, because to Zayne, you are.

You’re dressed in something elegant and white, your hair done exactly how he loves it, diamond earrings glinting when you lean in to murmur sweet things during dessert. He kissed your hand at the table. He fed you the last bite of your souffle. He looked genuinely weak when you smiled.

Now, back home, you lead him by the hand into the cozy sitting room, your heels already kicked off, makeup still perfect, and you sit him down on the plush velvet armchair. You pull out a small, gift-wrapped item from behind the bar cart. It’s square, not too thick, tied in a delicate ribbon.

He eyes it suspiciously, lips quirking slightly.

“Another gift, sweetheart?” he murmurs, hazel-green eyes sparkling. “Wasn’t dinner and your company more than enough?”

You smile innocently, cheeks warm.

“This one’s just for you. A private gift. Promise you won’t open it until I say so?”

He raises a brow. He’s intrigued.

“You’re starting to worry me, snowflake.”

Still, he obliges, sitting obediently with the album in his lap while you go behind him, slipping your arms over his shoulders.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Now.”

He unties the ribbon. Opens the first page.

And stops breathing.

⸻

First photo, you in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly pastel apron over one of his old dress shirts… buttoned only halfway. The hem flutters just below your thighs, leaving your legs completely bare. Your hands are flour-dusted, cheeks pink, and there’s whipped cream on your nose.

You’re bending slightly over the counter, sliding a tray of heart-shaped cookies into the oven with the most mischievous smile.

“Sweetheart… what… what is this…”

He flips the page.

Second photo, you licking icing off your finger, eyes wide and innocent, the bow of the apron tied low on your back, the skirt very short. Zayne’s name is scrawled in icing of the cake on the countertop beside you, surrounded by pink sugar hearts.

Third photo, you, from behind, balancing on your tiptoes to reach for a spice jar. The dress has ridden up. There’s no mistaking what’s not underneath. The caption under it reads in your handwriting:

“oops. no panties today, chef~”

He’s silent.

Dead silent.

His jaw’s locked. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, ears turning red.

You lean close to whisper innocently, “Do you like it?”

And Zayne, your brilliant, stoic, always composed husband, finally breathes out—

“I’m going to have a stroke.”

⸻

The album now lives in his locked desk drawer, where no one else will ever find it. Not even if the house were on fire.

But more importantly, you find yourself pinned between the kitchen counter and your blushing husband not even twenty minutes later, his tie long gone, your apron hanging off your shoulders,

“Was this all a plan, darling?”

“Did you intend to drive me mad tonight?”

He kisses you breathless, his hand cupping your cheek, the other sliding beneath the fabric with reverent slowness.

“Next year,” he murmurs, voice low and hot, “I want one in a nurse uniform. And the year after that? Surprise me.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The evening had been perfect in that quiet, Xavier-esque way.

A soft dinner at home, lights dim, stars glittering through the penthouse windows. The table set with care, he’d even lit candles, though he tried to pretend he hadn’t planned that far ahead.

You’d cooked, and he sat beside you the whole time, sipping wine, brushing his fingers against yours between each course, looking like he wanted to say something but didn’t have the words.

He never needed them anyway.

Not with how he looked at you.

“You’re… beautiful, starlight,” he murmured as you curled into his lap on the sofa after dinner, blanket half-draped over your legs. “You always are. But tonight… I’m starting to believe you really were made to haunt me.”

You giggled, pressed a kiss to his jaw, and handed him a small, ribboned album from behind the couch cushion.

“Happy anniversary, Xavier. I wanted to give you something personal.”

He blinked, confused.

Took it delicately, like it was a sacred relic.

“A… book?”

“…Wait.”

He unties the ribbon. Opens to the first page.

And that’s when the nosebleed hits.

⸻

First photo, you in a sheer, pale lilac negligee that hugs your body like mist. Your thighs peek through delicate lace. The neckline drips low enough to give a suggestion of cleavage, hidden by a loosely tied robe. You’re sitting in his reading chair. One hand rests lightly on your collarbone. Your expression is soft. Sleepy. Dangerous.

Blood hits the page.

“X-Xavier?!”

“You’re bleeding!”

He slaps a hand over his nose, face completely red, eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Starlight what did you do.”

“You can’t—you can’t just give me this!”

⸻

Second photo, the robe is slipping off your shoulder now, revealing more of your bare skin, your stocking-clad thighs folded neatly beneath you as you recline on your side like a classic painting. The caption is handwritten:

“I imagined you’d like this one. I was thinking of you when I posed.”

Xavier collapses backward. Still holding the album upright like it’s the last thing tethering him to earth. He’s trying not to breathe too hard. His nose is still bleeding, too frozen to take the tissues you’re offering him.

“I’ve made contact with divinity,” he murmurs dramatically. “It’s her. She’s real. She’s my wife.”

⸻

Third photo, you, standing in front of the penthouse bedroom mirror. The robe is untied. Your back is to the camera, head turned over your shoulder. The light catches on your shoulder blades, your soft hips, the top of your thigh-highs.

Underneath it is another note:

“You can come find me now, if you want. The robe’s still on the floor.”

He gets up. So fast you hear the whoosh of air.

Absolutely frantic.

“Where is it. Where is the robe.”

You laugh, backing toward the bedroom.

He follows like a man possessed.

⸻

Later, after he’s finally calmed down and your poor bedsheets are a casualty of the nosebleed and the aftermath, he insists on making a velvet-lined case for the album.

He keeps it in a drawer near the bed.

Takes it out every few days just to sigh over it.

“You didn’t have to go so far,” he murmurs, tracing the page edges. “You could’ve given me a photo of you in sweatpants and I’d still cry.”

Then his voice drops to a whisper.

“But I am going to need another shoot… same robe… maybe no robe… just a suggestion.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You’d just come home from a week-long seaside villa getaway where Sylus spared no expense, private chef, marble infinity pool, silk robes delivered every morning, a whole fleet of bodyguards paid to “look the other way” when his hands wandered too far under dinner tables.

He was glowing with pride the entire trip.

“I’m a dangerous man, kitty,” he’d murmur as you swam up to him in the ocean, sunglasses perched on his silver hair. “But I’d give it all up to keep you soft like this. Tucked away. Spoiled rotten. Never needing to lift a finger except to choose which bikini to wear.”

He returned home relaxed, sun-warm, glowing from power and pleasure.

That is, until you handed him the velvet envelope.

“A little souvenir,” you said coyly, settling into the penthouse lounge with a yawn. “From me to you.”

He opened the album.

He paused.

Then he tilted his head.

Slowly. Like a predator smelling blood.

“…Kitten.”

⸻

First photo, you reclined across red silk sheets, wearing a see-through black chiffon robe that slips completely off your shoulders, revealing glitter-dusted thighs, sultry makeup, and the barrel of one of his gold-plated pistols perched lazily on your hip. A diamond necklace is looped between your teeth like candy.

Your eyes are half-lidded. The wedding band sparkles under the camera flash.

“Is that my pistol?” he murmurs, voice strangled.

“Did you take that from the vault?”

Second photo, you’re in the passenger seat of one of his vintage sports cars, door open, one leg outside, the other tucked provocatively on the leather seat. Your silk stockings are barely rolled up. The seatbelt’s undone. The caption below reads:

“ready for a ride, baby?”

He flips the page and laughs.

A dangerous, breathless kind of laugh.

The kind that says you’re not getting out of bed for three days.

“This is evil.”

Third photo, you, laying sideways across the hood of the car, fully naked except for stilettos and a diamond anklet, one of his revolvers laid carefully across your bare stomach.

⸻

He flips back. Again.

And again.

Then he gets up. Walks directly to the foyer. Takes his wallet from the marble console.

Silently, carefully, slides his favorite photo, the red silk sheet one, into the inside flap.

“You are truly born to torture me.”

⸻

You spot him flipping through the album again later, standing shirtless by the balcony with a cigar in his mouth, laughing under his breath.

“I knew you were perfect, kitten,” he drawls. “But this, this is perversely delightful.”

He tosses the cigar into the ashtray. Stalks over to you, scoops you into his arms like you weigh nothing.

“Give me another shoot. In my office next time. I want a shot of you splayed across the desk.”

He grins.

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You had a second honeymoon at the tropical resort, It was perfect.

Private beach. Ocean-view suite. Room service for every meal because you “didn’t feel like leaving bed” and Caleb had no problem with that. He spent most of the week either kissing saltwater off your shoulders or carrying you around like his pretty little prize.

“You really gonna let me have you all to myself like this again, pips?”

“No comms. No Fleet. Just my pretty wife lookin’ like paradise.”

Now, back home, sun-kissed and still a little sand-dusted, you hand him a neatly wrapped album as you’re snuggled on the couch, legs over his lap, wearing his oversized academy flight jacket.

He’s already smiling like a golden retriever with a brand new bone.

But the moment he opens the album?

Full body combustion. (He didn’t blow up again, don’t worry)

⸻

First photo, you, provocatively leaning over his fighter jet, hips arched, wearing a custom, skimpy version of his old pilot jumpsuit. The front is unzipped nearly all the way down, teasing a scandalous glimpse of your favorite lacy bra underneath, his favorite color. His name tag is pinned to your chest.

You’re wearing his flight jacket over your shoulders.

Hair tousled. Lipstick smudged.

The note underneath says:

“Reporting for duty, Colonel.”

“BABY.”

He literally shouts. Slaps the photo against his chest. “How will i ever step foot into that jet again without thinking of you?!”

Second photo, you inside the cockpit, half-in, half-out, glancing over your shoulder, lips parted, legs bent, the jumpsuit riding way too high. Helmet beside you, glove between your teeth.

He clutches his chest. Falls back onto the couch. Groaning.

“That’s my cockpit,” he moans dramatically. “You’ve defiled military equipment, and I have never been prouder in my life.”

Third photo, domestic theme. You in a retro gingham dress, pearls and red lipstick, holding a woven basket full of apples. You’re on a ladder, picking fruit, skirt accidentally hitched way too high, revealing sweet white thigh-highs and the hem of lace panties. The sun flares behind you like a lens filter from heaven.

Underneath, in your own handwriting:

“Almost fell off the ladder. Hope it was worth it”

“Oh my GOD,” he whines, flipping back and forth between pages. “Every photo is my favorite. I need one a week. No, twice a week. Actually, start filming them too.”

He grabs your face, squishes your cheeks, eyes sparkling like he just won the universe.

“Next time you wear that jumpsuit, you’re not taking it off. I wanna peel it off myself.”

You tease, “So you liked it?”

He growls.

“Pips, If you weren’t already my wife, I’d marry you all over again for this. I’d drop to my knees right now. I’d burn the Fleet down to make sure i never have to leave your side.”

He tucks the album into his duffel bag. That bag goes everywhere.

He literally calls it his emotional support photo album.

If he’s gone on deployment, he’s flipping through it in the captain’s quarters, smiling like a lunatic.

“God, my wife’s such a bombshell.”

And yes, he starts commissioning a video next.

Wants voiceover. Wants to hear your giggles in the background. Wants you whispering “I miss you, Colonel” while lying on his jet wearing nothing but the flight jacket.

[fanged-fanfics]

Hey, I don't know I send you this request or not so I do it again in case I didn't.

Shadowmilk find out his lover sleep fly instead of sleepwalk and the way he find out, he was outside one day and just see his lover flying around and he try to call out to them and but them was asleep and that's how he find out his lover sleep flying and when they about to flying into danger, they wake up fight and go back to sleep flying like nothing happened so anytime shadowmilk see his lover sleep flying again outside or the castle he know they be ok (ps: shadowmilk his eyes things to keep an eye on them when his to far from them)

☆ Resting On The Winds — Shadow Milk Cookie x GN Reader HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff || They/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Days at the Spire tended to fly by. It was anything but uneventful, with Shadow Milk constantly planning and giving his own brand of entertainment every second he could. But on a particularly lazy day, he was surprised to see you... floating out the window?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He followed, joking away and circling you with his own flight abilities. He asked what you were up to, and frowned when he figured he was being given the silent treatment. He zipped around your form, dramatically wounded and offended at the lack of attention

ᯓᡣ𐭩 That is until one of the minions of Deceit came into your path. The very small fry creatures made of his shadows tended not to listen as well to their master due to being less intelligent, so it didn't fly out of the way when Shadow Milk scolded it. All his yelling made your eyes flutter open, grumbling at the interruption

ᯓᡣ𐭩 As soon as you were up, you gave the minion a solid hit that made it dissipate completely. Shadow Milk immediately grabbed your shoulders, fussing over you and asking whatever it is he did to make you ignore him. How could you blow off your beloved like that! For shame

ᯓᡣ𐭩 It took a bit of explaining for it to finally process that you were genuinely completely asleep and had no idea he was there. He was still a little upset, but he moved to coddle you instead, lamenting about how you could've hurt your precious little form!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 From that day on, Shadow Milk almost always aimed to co-nap with you. He usually cuddles you close, helping to keep you grounded. But if you did make it into the air, he'd be there to fly beside you and make sure you didn't get lost, tugging you back if you drifted too far

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Unfortunately, with his masterful plans always being under way, he couldn't stay by your side as much as he'd wanted to. But the eyes of Deciet never once left you. You were well accustomed to it by now, how his eyes were always on you. If anything it was comforting to know he was trying so hard to keep you safe

ᯓᡣ𐭩 His favorite thing to do is to lay on top of you whenever you're sleeping. He can make his form light enough to not weigh you down, and he keeps his face buried into your chest while you both levitate near the ceiling. The lack of gravity does make for some nice naps, especially when you can cradle him while doing it. Though he's also been making sure to close the windows more often beforehand

[towasdandelion]

Hotarubi, Jabberwock and Obscuary ghouls reactions to leaving a small gift/note in their room

Zenji is delighted when he finds your notes and genuinely thinks you have a knack for poetry! He won't look for any hidden motives because he knows how loving you are and how much you appreciate it when he writes or sings for you. He feels inspired by your sweet words and wants to start writing right away, but first he needs to make sure that you're okay with him including some of your words in his work.

Haku is amused by your gesture at first. But as he reads your note, his smirk fades into a fond smile. You really do love him and he can feel it. That doesn't mean you'll escape his teasing though, he just has to! You have to forgive him, he just can't help it when you're so cute, even comparing you to a shy little girl with a crush. (Maybe she wouldn't be so shy if you didn't tease her so much, Haku!) He will definitely keep your notes somewhere in his room so he can read them anytime he wants to remind himself how cute you are.

Subaru almost melts when he reads your note, smiling to himself as he puts it away in his pocket. He can't help but wonder though. Did something happen? Is there an occasion he missed? He gets a little nervous even thinking about it. He'd hate himself if it really was the case. So do go ahead and calm him down! He will feel even happier after finding out you wanted to express your love to him without any particular reason. He feels incredibly lucky to have you. You can expect a lengthy letter from him soon, as a reply to your note.

Towa gets all giggly when he notices your gift waiting for him on his bed. He immediately tries it on, relishing in its comfort. He loves it so much you have no idea! The Dandelion patterned fabric reminds him of his favorite flower in the world - you! He doesn't think much about the reason for your gesture. It's very simple, you love him. You can expect him to wear it 24/7 from now on. Cute isn't it? Until you have to convince him it's time to wash it and he needs to take it off!

Haru almost jumps from happiness when he opens the cabinets and nothing falls on his head! What is this magic? Everything is suddenly neatly organized! He knows who he owes his thanks to. With the amount of work (and gadgets) it was hard for him to keep it tidy. Wait.. he didn't forget anything did he? No? Good. He really appreciates that at least someone is helping him without making a bigger mess. (I'm looking at you Ren, Towa!)

Ren jumps out of his skin when upon opening a game, a pop up appears on his screen. Surely he didn't buy it by mistake? He quickly checks his account, only to see the money is still there. That's when it hits him. He was just whining to you the other day about how annoying the grinding is sometimes. Well, now he's even more suspicious.. You did it just because? No ulterior motives? Cool. Really cool. He won't show it very openly, but he really is happy he can finally do some upgrades in the game. Don't worry, he won't forget to thank you.

Ed is happy that despite all the teasing he subjects you to, you still express your love to him. He chuckles at the last bit where you scold him about not keeping his room tidy once again. But he's not going to make much of it. He'll focus on his favorite thing to do - getting under your skin. Just enough to rile you up a bit, but not to the point where you'd get upset. He wants more of your sweet notes after all and might even surprise you with one of his own, slipping it under your pillow when you're not looking.

I feel like Rui might get a little emotional, which is something he usually hides behind this cheerful smile of his that you know so well. How it is possible that even when he can't touch you (yes we're going back to cursed Rui) he feels the warmth of your love? He thought he's smooth, but how come you make him melt so effortlessly? He's happy to see that his gestures are appreciated. Despite his curse you still make him feel cherished, to the point where it brings him to tears. What are you waiting for? You better go be there for him!

Lyca is kind of confused. He thought the era where people write to each other is almost gone? Everyone is using texts right now after all. The fact that Ed somehow noticed the small piece of paper in his hand doesn't help either. Poor guy has to literally hide from him just so he can read your sweet note in peace! And once he does, he's really moved. He doesn't exactly know how to describe it himself though. He's almost in disbelief. Does he really mean so much to you? Please do go along with his request. (You might be able to see his tail wagging happily.)

[ollyissleepy]

𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 (𝐩)

pairings: batfamily x nonbinary!reader summary: they might not fully get it, but will love you regardless.

m.list

b. wayne does he get it? no. will he show that he doesn't get it? no. would ask a few questions (like preferred name/pronouns), but nothing more than that. though, if your timing is right, you could catch him researching about it on batcomputer. 100% funds more charities for lgbtg+ folks (esp. trans and nonbinary youth) after your coming out. also if you ask him he would go to pride parades with you (might even get him to wear a silly shirt or something)

d. grayson unlike bruce, he will ask you all the questions out of genuine curiosity. also does his best at educating people around him. will it be embarrassing? sometimes. but I promise he means no harm. also there's no need to ask him to go to a pride parade, he probably would know about them before you and you bet he's wearing rainbow head to toe.

j. todd would ask you to explain, but unlike dick, a few question are enough. I feel like he's more of a quiet supporter. he'd be like 'oh you're nonbinary cool' just to walk away (later the same day you might find a small item like a pin with nonbinary flag). probably won't go to a pride parade (he's dead after all, so more like can't go), but would watch you from the rooftops to make sure you're safe. might 'inconvenience' a few homophobes/transphobes that are trying to destroy your fun (esp. if they're transphobic towards you).

t. drake already know some stuff about the term 'nonbinary' so, similar to bruce, would only ask about your preferred name/pronouns. mean comments on social media? huh where? oh sorry tim deleted them before you could even read them properly? oh and the person that wrote them? yeah, doxxed, reported, their entire family/all their friends knows about their browse search history. would go with you to a pride parade and might even wear something small related to his own flag

bonus! d. wayne does he get everything you just said to him? not really. would he ask you about it? no, but unlike his father, he would go to someone else to ask about it (would not tell them it's about you, just causally ask about it and not elaborate further). has stabbed at least one person for being transphobic to you. probably wouldn't go to a pride parade (not his vibe I fear), but if you mention going with any other family member instead, he would do anything to get that idea out of your head, 'why are you planning on asking timothy? i'm going with you and it's final'.

[edawgz]

ᝰ.ᐟ INFURIATINGLY CHARMING

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ james potter x fem. reader. ~1.2k words.

❚ ❙ ❘ fluff. enemies to lovers. silly. innuendos. flirty/cocky james.

: ̗̀➛ You would choose your orderly life, filled with studying, structure, and responsibilities, over the mess that James Potter brought, any day. Unfortunately, the day had come where you and him were now locked in the astronomy tower alone, and he just so happened to sweep you up into his storm of chaos.

| masterlist. | marauders masterlist. |

You’d never liked James Potter.

At least, that’s what you told yourself every time he strolled into a room with that cocky grin and wind-tossed hair, as if he’d just stepped off a Quidditch pitch and into your perfectly ordered life for the sole purpose of wreaking havoc. And he did wreak havoc. In small, specific, maddening ways -- like asking you what book you were reading while you were clearly trying not to be disturbed, or plucking the quill from your hand with a spell, a wink, and a “Thought you might need a break, love,” or insisting on calling you by your surname like you were teammates rather than classmates.

He was a hurricane in human form, and you were not interested.

So, naturally, you ended up locked in the Astronomy Tower with him on a dare

.

It was Sirius Black’s fault, really. He’d overheard your offhand comment in the Common Room about how “Potter couldn’t go five minutes without flirting with someone,” and had leapt on it like it was a prize-winning broomstick. One sarcastic remark snowballed into a challenge, a bet, and then a crowd of students egging it on. Before you could blink, the dare was settled... you and James, in the tower, alone, for one hour. No magic, no interference, no escape.

You should’ve said no. Should’ve walked away. But pride was a terrible thing, and you hated the idea of looking like a coward in front of James Potter even more than you hated the idea of spending an hour with him.

Which is how you found yourself standing in the dim light of the Astronomy Tower at eleven o’clock on a Wednesday night, arms crossed, heart steady, eyes fixed anywhere but on the boy lounging against the stone railing like he had all the time in the world.

“I’m surprised you showed up,” James said, breaking the silence with that maddeningly amused voice of his.

You didn’t look at him, only managing a grumble, “I’m surprised you haven’t started monologuing about how irresistible you are yet.”

He laughed, a low, genuine sound. “Give it time.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a tight little smile tugging at the corner of your mouth despite yourself. Damn him. He always had that effect on people -- charming them without trying. It was infuriating.

James pushed off the railing and walked over, hands tucked into his pockets. He stopped a few feet away from you, not close enough to be intrusive, but not far enough to ignore. The space between you crackled with something unsaid.

“Alright then,” he said, tilting his head, “let’s have it.”

You frowned and raised your eyebrows “Have what?”

“Your opinion of me. Unfiltered. No audience this time.” He smiled slightly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m curious what you really think.”

You blinked, caught off guard. You’d expected teasing, not this. Not… honesty.

You hesitated, arms still crossed, then said, “I think you’re… infuriating. Arrogant. Loud. You take up too much space, and you always act like you’re the main character in everyone’s story.”

His smile twitched. “Go on.”

“But,” you added, slower now, the words surprising even yourself, “I think you care more than you let on. You pay attention. You’re loyal. Brave. And—”

You paused, biting your lip. James waited.

“And you make people feel like they matter,” you finished quietly. “Even when you’re..... annoying the hell out of them.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at you with a look you couldn’t quite name. Then, to your dismay, that familiar cocky smile returned—but softer now.. less performative. “You forgot devastatingly handsome.”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “Of course I did.”

“Tragic,” he said, stepping a little closer, eyes fixated on yours, “Truly, a crushing blow to my ego.”

You should’ve stepped back. You should’ve ended the conversation, walked away, reminded yourself that James Potter was trouble wrapped in charisma and a charming smile. But instead, you looked up at him, and realized you didn’t mind the way his eyes softened when they met yours.

“Why do you always flirt with everyone?” you asked, your voice low, curious.

He shrugged one shoulder, gaze dropping briefly to your lips before flicking back to your eyes. “Keeps things interesting. But I don’t flirt with everyone.”

You raised a brow. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I mean it.” His voice was quieter now. “There’s a difference between flirting for fun and actually… wanting someone to notice you.”

Your stomach flipped as the silence stretched, a warm, charged thing.

“I notice you,” you said, before you could talk yourself out of it.

James looked at you like you’d just told him a secret. Like the air between you had changed shape.

“You sure?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Because I’ve been trying to get your attention for months.”

You let out a breathy laugh, nervous and breathless all at once. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.” He moved closer, slowly, like he's giving you every chance to pull away. “But I’ll be honest, love, you’ve got me completely tangled. And I think you like me more than you’re willing to admit.”

Your pulse thudded loudly in your ears. “What makes you so sure?”

He stopped inches from you. His hand came up, gentle fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with surprising care. “Because you didn’t hex me the moment we got up here.”

You smiled innocently, but kept your gaze locked on him, “I considered it.”

“But you didn’t.”

You tilted your chin up, defiant and unsteady in the same breath. “Maybe I wanted to see what you’d say.”

He leaned in slowly, his breath brushing your cheek. “And what do you want me to say now?”

You didn’t answer... you didn’t have to.

Because the next second, his lips were on yours. It was soft at first -- testing -- like he didn’t quite believe this was real. And then you kissed him back, and all hesitation vanished. He pulled you closer, hands sliding around your waist, mouth hot and eager against yours. It was dizzying. Like gravity had shifted. Like every snarky word, every dare, every sideways glance had been leading here.

He kissed you like he meant it, like he’d been holding back for far too long. And Merlin help you, you let him.

You broke apart just enough to catch your breath, foreheads pressed together. James’s smile was different now -- genuine, a little breathless, and still laced with disbelief.

“See?” he murmured. “Knew you fancied me.”

You shoved him lightly, grinning. “Don’t push your luck.”

But the truth was already written in your smile, and James Potter -- infuriating, charming, impossible James -- was looking at you like you were the best trouble he’d ever found.

[penelopehere]

How They Became Demon Hunters HCs With Huntrix

Rumi

Her backstory is partially explained in the movie, and I built my own headcanons of how her parents met in another one of my post

However it’s very clear that she was raised by Celine to hate her demon side, wanting to hide and even destroy it from a very young age

She was constantly pushed towards being perfect in every aspect of her life, whether that be in sparring, singing, social skills etc

This was all done in the hopes of eventually getting rid of her marks and protecting the world

However, she also thought that being perfect would make up for the fact that she was a mistake

Despite not knowing exactly how her mum died, I believe she would still blame herself; thinking that being half demon brought misfortune to her mum

In regards to her father, she just pictured him as an evil figure that managed to trick her mum and never considered the fact that he may have been a good person

She would also be homeschooled and sheltered for most of her life, any public appearances done purposefully in order to build her life as an idol

Because of this she would be put on a lot of korean variety shows and do interviews when she was a teen in order to get public support early

On the side, she would also train and even hunt demons with Celine so she would be strong enough to lead the next generation of hunters

However the feeling of loneliness would constantly consume her since she had no one that could understand her life as a half-demon, and she didn’t have any genuine friendships at this point

Celine would notice this and tried to reassure Rumi that this was all for the greater good, and that the hunters were all she ever needed

However, this only worked to a certain extent

Eventually though, Celine would introduce Zoey to Rumi for the first time

Rumi finally felt like she could let her guard down a little, instantly bonding with the other teenage girl

She still felt insecure about her demon blood, and Celine warned her to not reveal anything about that side of her so she wouldn’t lose her new friend

So Rumi stayed silent, not saying anything about her heritage even after Mira came to join the group a few months later

Rumi vowed to do whatever it took to protect the world, even if that meant lying to those she loved

Mira

Similar to Rumi, Mira would most likely also be a legacy

However the difference being that not everyone in her family had hunter abilities, so a lot of them had no idea what demons even existed

This was further emphasized by the fact that most of her relatives that did carry these powers were deceased or estranged

Because of this, Mira always felt like the odd one out and never truly knew what made her so different

She tried to express how she felt through her clothing and artworks, but her family- being rather strict- didn’t appreciate her creativity

They refused to listen to her, causing Mira to act out in many ways

She often spent late nights outside by herself, doing whatever she felt like

From this she would spot her first demon, sucking the soul out of someone until they died

She didn’t know how to react, not fully understanding what she was seeing

Once she managed to snap out of her fear she would go to check on the victim, only to find the body was no longer there

From there she would just run, not knowing when to stop until she subconsciously came all the way back to her house

She wanted to scream and tell her parents what happened, but the moment she walked through those doors she realised they wouldn’t believe her and that she was truly alone

She would carry this fear with her as she got older, not truly knowing if there was something wrong with her brain and making her see these things

Sometimes she would try to fight the demons she saw, rarely succeeding due to her lack of proper training

She had to constantly see people because of this, traumatizing her even further

One day however, she was listening to a song and began singing, not noticing the demon in front of her until it began to get repulsed by the music and ran away

She tested this out the next time she found one, blasting the song towards it while fighting

This is when she realised the demons were weakened by the music

She’d track down the artist of the song, eventually finding Celine in a fan meet and trying to see if she knew anything about the monsters she was seeing

She’d try to be subtle at first, not fully revealing everything she saw just in case Celine thought she was crazy

Mira got her contact information, and was told to meet her in a couple days

From this Celine realised Mira also had hunter abilities, and began to train her in secret

Mira’s parents wouldn’t care about her extended absences, relieved that their daughter was no longer getting in trouble with the police or acting out at home

Celine would reveal what hunters and demons were, explaining their history

Mira was skeptical at first

However, with everything that had happened, she had no choice but to believe Celine and for the first time in her life she didn’t think she was crazy

They trained together for a couple months before Celine introduced Mira to two other young teenagers who had the gift; Rumi and Zoey

From then on Mira finally felt like she had a family, and would do everything she could to keep them together

Zoey

Zoey would be a partial legacy, with only one side of her family knowing about demons and hunters

She didn’t know of her abilities at first, thinking all the monsters she saw as a kid were just a figment of her imagination

Especially since by the time she looked back, one of her family members would be there innocently waving and telling her to go play

It wasn't until she was older was it revealed that she had hunter blood inside her, and that she could begin training to become one

Zoey would be ecstatic, believing she was a real life superhero; wanting to tell all her friends and the rest of the family about it

However, this idea was quickly crushed as it was explained to her the importance of protecting their secret; not wanting to worry others with matters they couldn’t control

They also believed it would keep the non-hunter family members safe if they didn’t know about demons or Gwi-Ma

From then on Zoey had to live a double life, training and hunting demons in secret while also pretending to be a normal girl

This was exhausting, especially since she hated lying to parts of her family and felt as though they couldn’t understand her if they didn’t know who she really was

Then with her hunter relatives, because they were all older than her, she constantly felt like she skilled enough to keep up with them

Therefore she was constantly trying to prove herself to both sides, being the perfect kid and warrior at the same time

Her only solace was writing lyrics and using them against demons, feeling as though this was the only time she could unapologetically be herself

However, all these negative feelings eventually began to hinder her training, since she felt too alone and unworthy to focus on fighting

One of her relatives got the idea of contacting a friend in Korea, sending Zoey there to meet them

She was then introduced Celine, who empathised with her difficulties living a double life

Being an idol and hunter, she understood the difficulties that came with lying to those you loved

However, she assured that Zoey that her fellow hunters would always be there to understand her

For a while, Celine assessed and developed Zoey’s skills, impressed with how she could make her own songs in such a short period of time

She then introduced her to Rumi, the two of them instantly connecting over this feeling of loneliness

To Zoey, it felt like they were the only people in the world that understood each other

When Mira came a couple months later, they welcomed her to their small family

Zoey couldn’t believe there were others her age who felt the same way she did, and never wanted any of them to feel alone again

[julessuretries]

Seeing people call Ragatha an "abuser" post episode 5 is actually insane to me because for me, episode 5 singlehandedly sold me on her character, whereas before I was kind of apathetic.

She's not "toxically positive" - she's just got some sort of fawn response given her mommy issues and feels like she needs to be "well-behaved and proper" in order for people to like her.

One of my closest friends from college was exactly like this and it was hard to see them go through the recurring issue of being unable to break past surface-level acquaintanceships with people precisely because they were "too nice". Like, do you know how uncomfortable it is to have to explain to someone they'd probably have an easier time connecting with people if they, just, stopped being overly helpful? It's a really weird conversation to have: like, am I actually encouraging this person to be worse? I kid you not at one point I think I actually said "you'd be better of if you were meaner", but, like, no one else was willing to say it and he was desperate so I guess I had to.

But unfortunately the only person who'd ever be bold enough to do that in the show is Jax (because he's literally already done it) but it's hard for Ragatha, or anyone, for that matter, to take any advice he gives sincerely even if he's kind of right because he's already such a jerk (and might be projecting some of his own mommy issues if we're being honest).

Looking back at the pilot, Ragatha's behavior towards Pomni seems all the more depressing. She literally pounced on the opportunity to befriend Pomni from minute one because newcomers are rare and I imagine she's been lonely for a very long time. Which is why seeing Jax do a better job bonding with Pomni gets under her skin because from her perspective she's put in way more effort and therefore deserves her friendship more. That's obviously a very transactional and problematic way of viewing relationships, but isn't surprising given what we've learned about her upbringing. She's likely been taught that love is something that can be earned with enough effort and is now reaching her limit having to come to terms with that not being the case.

The best things in life come free. Genuine connections have to form naturally. While I'm not totally convinced that Jax is being fully honest in his attempts to befriend Pomni, I do think he understands something that Ragatha doesn't. People want to be friends with people they can relate to and trust. And even if Pomni isn't a jerk like Jax, she at the least can rest assured she's seen the worst of him, whereas Ragatha could reveal her "real self" at any time. It's about taking a calculated risk - even if Ragatha deep down is still a nice person (which I personally think she is), there's no way for anyone else to know that for sure. It's less risky to be friends with people who are more open about their flaws than with someone who feels like they could crack at any moment and you'd have no idea what would spill out.

Ragatha is a really tragic character but also so incredibly real. Unfortunately even if she did decide to be more "genuine" with who she was as a person she'd still have a long journey ahead of her, since I'm not very convinced she even knows who she is.

Wow this episode was good.

“We need more complex female characters”

YALL COULDNT HANDLE HER

It’s crazy that her character flaw is thinking that if she ever expresses a negative emotion everyone will dislike her and yall immediately proved her right. Goddamn.

[glitter-stained]

Omfg can we please stop talking shit about how Gretchen Felker Martin is gonna fuck up the comic so much it's not even out it's coming in September I'm not even expecting the fandom to give her the same kind of leeway they give cis white male writers all the time I'm fully expecting it to get scrutinized heavily and everyone is suddenly forgetting how bad the Lobdell era was but can you please at least wait until September? Is that really so much to ask?

Also can I just say, the leap between the preview going "Jason is sexy. So sexy. His brooding hotness. It's going to be a pg 17 comic. Because Jason is sexy" and "GFM is going to massacre Helena with sexist objectifying writing" is so frustrating. I know we've all been burnt by DC editorial before but please let's not go in there assuming this leftist trans woman is going to be just as sexist as known sexual aggressor Scott Lobdell. I don't personally care for jay.hel as a ship, I'm not particularly enthusiastic about the idea either, but Jason isn't gonna "ruin" Helena's character by sleeping with her, be serious (if he even does; again, aside that (very pretty) nick robles cover where they're not even actually kissing, the preview consistently characterized Jason as sexy. Also honestly if I were a dc writer or artist this is the exact sort of smartass rugpull I would do, keeping people on their toes.)

Also I wish people would quit that "she doesn't deserve him" mentality about ships like there's a million other ways to approach it "I don't think they'd be compatible", "i'm tired of seeing her as somebody else's love interest", "i don't think his story needs a new love interest right now" okay sure I see your point. But "X deserves better than Y" always frustrates me so much. By what metric? "You deserve better" in a relationship is about behaviour in the relationship, not the inherent value of the partner (which honestly, that's also kind of a random insulting pot-shot at Jason tbh), and also nothing here hints as a romantic relationship rather than just a sexual one. Also btw going "Helena deserves better than Jason" about them hooking up in the same sentence you say you have no issue with them teaming up is kinda like. According a really weird importance to sexual relationships. I don't know how other people feel, but I'd rather have sex with someone sexy I don't get along with than work with someone sexy I don't get along with. And again, by what metric? "Helena deserves better", as in what, a higher value male? And also what does it say about Artemis Rose and Isabel to go "oh Jason already *has* Artemis, Rose and Isabel (very debatable) coming and going, he doesn't need Helena she deserves better!" like dude if Jason sucks so bad what did Artemis Rose and Isabel do to deserve him.

*sigh*

Rant over because I'm even mad at myself for talking about it because I don't want to until it comes out and I've said this shit again but genuinely. Give Gretchen Felker-Martin a fucking minimum of grace instead of rushing to crucify her for a story you haven't even read yet. Tom King is returning to goddamn Batman and meanwhile y'all are sending GFM mail asking her whether the story she's writing is going to suck. What the hell. Do NOT let this be another Devin Grayson situation I swear to fucking God.

[crystallizedday]

You know what?

We’re all talking about the pipis hatching & wanting to make fankid designs for it

& I love the creativity that comes from this idea

But ya wanna know what I wanna see that no one else seems to be tackling?

Since we know the lil egg’s alive

I wanna see her actually like

BE alive

As in

Rolling around

Or doing the tweeting thing she does.

It’s not necessarily a creature inside an egg.

If the bad egg parallels from the Sweepstakes website suggest anything

The creature IS the egg.

So like

Wouldn’t it be cute if Tenna did essentially what Noelle did?

Raising the lil thing as if she was his very own?

Not letting her abnormalities bother him as he treats her with genuine love & care?

The idea’s so vivid in my brain that I already have a scenario crafted around it.

I can just imagine Tenna lying on the far side of his bed one night

Having carefully placed his lil pipis on the other side, just cause he felt like she needed a more comfortable place to rest that night

& he’s just staring at her

Maybe letting his mind wander to darker places

& he’s pulled out of his thoughts when he feels something suddenly bump into him

& he looks down to see the lil thing had rolled over to him.

He’s about to chalk it up as just the bed being unbalanced or something when she actually makes a quiet noise.

It startles him at first, but once he realizes what she’s likely trying to do

He cannot help but feel a newfound sense of worth.

Even if she can’t talk or move all that well, she’s still there. All that time he took care of her MEANT something.

She loves him, even if he can never know for certain, & that gives him enough motivation to keep himself going regardless of his obsolete existence.

Maybe he relishes in the idea of BOTH of them being “unwanted” by the rest of the world, REALLY hone in on the angst.

I don’t care.

I just want to fucking cry my eyes out at Tenna’s unconditional compassion toward something no one else would ever want.

IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR???

[reveryfics]

Mr. Lifeguard

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Male Reader

Summary: The pool was the ideal refuge from the sweltering summer heat. However, Bob was apprehensive about joining everyone. So, when you offered to swim with him later that night he accepted.

A/N: So, I have a lot of angst for Bob and while I currently have a more fluff type request for him in my drafts, I think he needs a cute summer pool fic. This will be my last post for awhile, while I'm gone requests are still open.

TW: Fluff - Awkward flirting

The oppressive humidity of a New York City summer settled over the Tower like a thick, damp blanket. Outside, the city shimmered in the heat, the asphalt radiating a blistering warmth that made even a short walk feel like a marathon. It was the kind of heat that seeped into your bones, leaving you lethargic and desperate for relief.

You were sprawled across Bob's bed, a book resting unread on your chest. The gentle whir of the fan was the only sound breaking the silence, a rhythmic hum that did little to combat the stifling air. The cool breeze it offered was a welcome reprieve, a small pocket of comfort in a sweltering world. You'd been staring at the same line of text for what felt like an eternity, the words blurring into an indecipherable mess as your mind drifted. Across from you, Bob was in a similar state, his own book lying forgotten on his stomach as he gazed at the ceiling. The shared stillness was comfortable, a testament to the easygoing rhythm you'd fallen into over the past few weeks.

Earlier that morning, a collective decision had been made in the common room. The tower had a state-of-the-art pool room, a luxurious oasis that, for whatever reason, had never been used. This seemed like the perfect day to rectify that. The idea was met with a chorus of excited agreements, a symphony of splashing and cannonball fantasies. But one voice was notably absent from the chorus. Bob had hung back, a flicker of apprehension in his eyes.

"I think I'll stay here," he'd said, his voice soft. "I'm not really a... a pool person."

The others, in their excitement, hadn't noticed his reluctance at first. But when asked, he admitted the truth, a bit sheepishly. "I've never actually learned how to swim," he confessed, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I'm perfectly content to just stay in my room with the fan and a good book."

No one pushed him. The last thing anyone wanted was for him to feel uncomfortable. Instead of joining the others, you decided to stay behind with him. The lure of the cool water was tempting, but the prospect of a quiet afternoon with Bob was even more appealing. You both had settled into this peaceful routine, the kind of easy camaraderie that didn't need words.

As the fan continued to hum, you finally broke the silence. The words tumbled out before you could even think about them. "I could teach you," you blurted out, the thought suddenly crystal clear in your mind. "Later tonight, after everyone's gone. We'll have the whole place to ourselves."

Bob's head tilted, his gaze slowly shifting from the ceiling to you. A slow, playful smirk spread across his face, a spark of amusement lighting his eyes. "Oh, so you're going to be Mr. Lifeguard, are you?" he said, his voice a low, teasing rumble. "I hope you know CPR."

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile on your own face. "You'll be perfectly fine," you retorted, a laugh bubbling up in your chest. "Besides, I'll get you a floaty if you need one."

The smirk on his face widened, a genuine, joyful crinkle forming around his eyes. "Okay," he said, a soft, warm tone in his voice. "Deal. On both counts.".

Later that night, you went back to your room and changed into a pair of swim trunks, grabbing a towel and a pair of flip-flops. The cool fabric of your trunks was a welcome change from the oppressive humidity of the day, a small promise of the refreshing evening to come. You made your way back to Bob's room, a soft knock on the door announcing your arrival.

He was already standing by the door when you arrived, a fluffy white towel draped over his shoulder. He was dressed in a pair of simple black swim trunks, his bare chest and arms on display. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, a flicker of nerves in his eyes as he took in your ready-for-the-pool appearance. But as soon as his eyes met yours, his face lit up, a brilliant, genuine smile spreading across his lips.

"Ready to go, Mr. Lifeguard?" he said, his voice a low, teasing whisper.

You grinned in return, a playful roll of your eyes as you gestured for him to lead the way. "Lead the way, Captain Floaty."

The halls of the tower were silent, the usual daytime bustle replaced by a peaceful hush. Your footsteps echoed softly in the quiet as the two of you walked side-by-side, the air-conditioned coolness of the tower a stark contrast to the muggy heat outside. As you walked, Bob's gaze drifted from his bare feet to you.

"So, how did you learn to swim?" he asked, his voice soft, almost a mumble in the quiet hall.

You shrugged, a casual movement of your shoulders as a faint smile touched your lips. "My father," you began, the memory of the past as clear as day in your mind. "He was a big believer in sink or swim. He just pushed me in the deep end one day when I was a kid and told me I'd swim if I wanted to survive."

You could feel Bob's gaze harden, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with a sudden, intense seriousness. "Your dad's a fucking asshole," he mumbled, the words a low, guttural growl that escaped his lips before he could stop them.

You laughed softly, a dry, humorless chuckle. "Yeah," you agreed, the word a soft exhalation of air. "Yeah, he was a cunt." The honesty of the moment hung in the air between you, a silent acknowledgment of a shared understanding. The conversation ended there, the two of you continuing to walk in a comfortable silence until you reached the pool room.

The pool room was a sight to behold. A massive, Olympic-sized pool filled the center of the cavernous room, its crystal-clear water shimmering under the soft, recessed lighting. The air was warm and humid, carrying the faint, clean scent of chlorine. The far wall was a floor-to-ceiling window, offering a breathtaking view of the illuminated city skyline. It was a space designed for leisure, a stark contrast to the high-tech tower.

Bob stopped at the edge of the pool, his toes curling slightly against the cool tile. He looked out at the vast expanse of water with a mix of awe and trepidation, a deep furrow forming between his brows. You watched him, a quiet smile on your face.

"Don't worry," you said, your voice soft and reassuring. "We'll start slow. The shallow end is right here."

You gestured to the steps leading down into the water, your own feet already splashing into the cool depths. The water felt incredible, a refreshing shock to your skin after the heat of the day. You turned back to Bob, who was still standing on the edge, his towel now draped over a nearby chair.

"C'mon," you coaxed, a playful glint in your eyes. "It's not a shark tank, I promise."

He let out a nervous laugh, a sound that was half-chuckle, half-exasperated sigh. He took a deep breath, his shoulders squaring as he slowly descended the steps. The moment the water touched his skin, a shiver ran through him, a stark contrast to the hot flush on his face.

"Okay," he said, his voice a little strained. "Okay. So, what's first?"

You moved closer, the water swirling around your waist. "First," you said, your voice dropping to a low, calm tone, "we're just going to get you comfortable in the water. I want you to sit down on these steps and just feel the water, feel how it holds you up."

He nodded, a look of fierce concentration on his face. He sat down on the second step, the water lapping at his chest. You watched as he took a deep breath, his shoulders slowly relaxing as he leaned back, the water supporting him. You could see the tension in his body melting away, replaced by a sense of calm.

"See?" you said, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "Not so bad."

You waded out a bit further into the pool, the water now reaching your waist, but kept your eyes on Bob the entire time. He was still sitting on the steps, his body a little more relaxed now, the water a comforting embrace around him. A thoughtful expression was on his face as he watched you move through the water with an effortless grace.

"Feeling brave enough to join me yet?" you teased, a playful smirk on your lips. "I can go get your floaty if you need it. We'll find one with a cool shark design."

He let out a soft laugh, the sound echoing lightly in the cavernous room. "I think I'll pass on the shark floaty for now," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he pushed himself up from the steps. He moved slowly, deliberately, the water resisting his every movement. He took a single step off the stairs and into the shallower part of the pool, his feet finding purchase on the smooth, tiled floor. He took another step, and then another, his movements a bit stiff, like a cat testing a new surface.

"Okay," he said, his voice a little strained as he tried to find his balance. "So, what's the next step?"

"Now," you said, your voice calm and steady, "I want you to try to float on your back."

His eyes widened in a flash of pure panic. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, his hands coming up in a gesture of surrender. "Absolutely not. I'm not ready for that. I'll sink."

You chuckled softly, waded a few steps closer to him. "You're not going to sink," you reassured him, your voice firm and confident. "The water is going to hold you up. It's all about trust. Trust in the water." You gently placed your hands on his back, your touch a warm, comforting pressure against his skin. "I've got you," you promised, your gaze locked with his. "Just lean back and let the water take you."

He hesitated for a moment, a whirlwind of doubt and trust swirling in his eyes. Then, with a deep breath, he leaned back, his body going rigid as he fought against the natural buoyancy of the water. His feet lifted from the floor and he tensed, his muscles coiling in protest. But you held him steady, your hands a solid anchor against his back.

"Relax," you murmured, your voice a soothing balm against his fear. "Just relax."

Slowly, his body began to loosen, his muscles unclenching as he felt the water's gentle embrace. He let out a shaky exhale, his eyes fluttering shut. His head bobbed gently on the surface, his hair fanning out around him like a golden halo. He was floating. For the first time in his life, he was floating, a sense of weightlessness washing over him as the fear melted away. You kept a firm, steadying hand on his back, a silent promise that you would not let him go. The only sounds in the room were the gentle lapping of the water and the soft, steady rhythm of your breathing. It was a perfect, quiet moment of trust, a shared breath of air in the vast, silent sea of the pool.

He let out a long, shaky breath, the sound a soft puff of air on the still surface of the water. His eyes fluttered open, a brilliant blue against the golden glow of the pool lights. He looked up at you, a soft, amazed smile spreading across his face.

"I'm... I'm doing it," he whispered, the wonder in his voice as clear as the water around you.

You smiled down at him, a genuine warmth spreading through your chest. Your hand slowly moved from his back, a gentle caress against his skin as you pushed away from him, moving to float beside him. The weightless sensation was peaceful, quiet, the only sounds in the vast room were the gentle lapping of the water against your bodies and the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing.

As you drifted a few feet away, Bob's hand found yours in the water, his fingers carefully intertwining with yours. His touch was warm and steady, a silent anchor in the cool depths. He was still smiling, but there was a new look in his eyes now, a spark of something different, something a little more than just relief.

"You know," he said, his voice a low, teasing rumble that sent a shiver through you, "I'm starting to think you're pretty good at this whole 'lifeguard' thing."

You let out a soft laugh, your head tilting back as you floated, your gaze on the illuminated ceiling. "I'm a natural," you replied, your voice filled with a playful confidence.

"Yeah, well," he said, his fingers tightening around yours. "I've gotta say, you're a lot better than my old lifeguard. He was just a picture on a cereal box."

You turned your head to look at him, a quizzical expression on your face. "A... cereal box?"

"Yeah," he said, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "The one with the smiling sun on it. I used to just stare at him and hope for the best."

You burst out laughing, a genuine, uninhibited sound that echoed in the quiet room. "I'm going to take that as a compliment," you said, your voice still a little breathless from your laughter.

"You should," he said, his gaze locked with yours. "I mean, he's a great guy, but he's got nothing on you. You're... you're a much better floaty than a sun." The last part of his sentence came out in a rush, a clumsy, adorable attempt at a compliment that made your heart do a little flip-flop in your chest.

You squeezed his hand gently, a soft, tender smile on your face. "I'm a much better floaty than a sun," you repeated, the words a silent promise that you would always be there to hold him up.

You both floated there in the silent, shimmering pool, your fingers still intertwined, a quiet island in the middle of a vast, tranquil sea. The city lights twinkled like scattered diamonds through the massive window, a beautiful backdrop to your private world. You talked aimlessly, your voices low and soft, carried on the humid air. You discussed a new book you were reading, the chaotic state of his room, his surprisingly meticulous habit of doing the dishes after everyone else had abandoned them. The topics were mundane, but the conversation was easy, a comfortable back-and-forth that felt as natural as breathing.

After a while, the conversation faded into a comfortable silence. The only sounds were the soft lapping of the water and the gentle rhythm of your breathing. You just floated there, suspended in the serene moment, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through your chest as you looked at the man beside you. The city lights reflected in his bright blue eyes, making them sparkle like the stars in a night sky.

You couldn't help but feel a pull towards him, an undeniable magnetism that had been building between you for weeks. And in this moment, suspended in the quiet, intimate bubble of the pool, you decided to take a chance.

"You know," you said, your voice a soft, low murmur, "if I'm a better floaty than a sun, I hope you're a better swimmer than a flounder."

Bob let out a soft, surprised chuckle, the sound a low rumble against your joined hands. "A flounder?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement. "That's a bit of a stretch, isn't it?"

"I don't know," you replied, a playful smirk on your lips. "You're pretty flat on your back right now. Plus, you've got those big, beautiful eyes on the side of your head. It's a close call."

He laughed, a genuine, uninhibited sound that made your heart skip a beat. "You're... you're a mess," he said, shaking his head slightly, but his smile was wide and brilliant.

"I can be," you admitted, your own smile mirroring his. "But hey, I'm a mess that's holding your hand in the middle of a swimming pool at two in the morning. And you're a guy who just learned to float. So I think we're doing pretty well."

He squeezed your hand, his gaze locked with yours, the playful spark in his eyes now mixed with a deep, unreadable emotion. "Yeah," he said, his voice soft, almost a whisper. "I think we are."

The quiet hours bled into one another, and you and Bob eventually drifted toward the shallower end, the silence punctuated by the soft slosh of water. The initial awkwardness had completely vanished, replaced by a comfortable intimacy that felt both new and familiar. You had a few more failed attempts at teaching him a proper stroke, dissolving into laughter as he flailed his arms and legs in a chaotic, sputtering effort. But it didn't matter. The goal wasn't to turn him into an Olympic swimmer; it was just to be there with him, to share this moment.

"I think I'm ready for the next level," Bob declared with a dramatic sigh, pushing himself up to sit on the steps, his legs dangling in the water. He was breathing a little heavily from his clumsy attempts at a backstroke, a triumphant grin on his face.

"Oh yeah?" you challenged, resting your forearms on the edge of the pool beside him. "And what's that?"

He looked at you, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. "I think it's time for me to learn how to do a cannonball."

You let out a snort of laughter, shaking your head. "Absolutely not. You'll flood the entire floor."

"Hey, you're the lifeguard," he said, splashing a bit of water at you. "You're supposed to be encouraging me to be adventurous."

Before you could retort, he pushed himself up from the steps, a newfound confidence in his movements. He stood at the edge of the pool, a playful glint in his eyes as he looked down at you. Without a moment's hesitation, he launched himself into the air, his knees tucked to his chest, and landed with a spectacular, thunderous splash that sent a tidal wave of water crashing over you.

You came up from the deluge sputtering and wiping the water from your eyes, your hair plastered to your forehead. You saw Bob's head emerge from the water, his hair slicked back, a look of pure, unadulterated joy on his face.

"Well?" he asked, his voice filled with a childish glee. "How was that?"

"I think," you said, pushing a lock of hair from your eyes and a smile on your face, "we're going to need a bigger pool."

He laughed, a rich, vibrant sound that filled the room. He swam over to you, his movements still a little uncoordinated, but undeniably more confident than before. He reached out and gently brushed a stray drop of water from your cheek, his touch sending a warm shiver down your spine.

"Thank you," he said, his voice dropping to a low, tender murmur. "For this. For everything."

You smiled, your gaze softening as you looked into his eyes. "Always."

The first rays of dawn began to peek through the massive window, casting a gentle, ethereal glow over the pool. The light illuminated the quiet stillness of the water, a perfect mirror to the peaceful, shared moment between you. As the sun began to rise on a new day, you both knew this was more than just a swimming lesson. It was the start of something beautiful.

[unnounblr]

...Thinking about it, I feel like the only way Leed could know about Laios's obsession with monsters and monster anatomy (and how that could translate to him being gross about orcs, and "orc sweat") is if Zon told her.

Literally the only time she meets Laios herself, he's unconscious almost the whole time. When he wakes up, he and Chilchuck have an earnest conversation about returning to the surface. She's also present when Laios and company theorize about how to defeat the demon, but they don't interact, and Laios isn't being that weird.

Like. He shows up wearing a walking mushroom costume, but. So are Izutsumi, Chilchuck and Senshi, and it's presented as a strategy, to blend in with the monster hordes.

Laios mentions eating monsters, but she doesn't even judge the party for that earlier. When Chilchuck mentions eating the Red Dragon, she compliments them for it, says they deserved to for being stronger than it, for being victorious over it. It's a very "might makes right" sort of culture. And the orcs did threaten to eat the party earlier during the first meeting when they make bread.

Zon is kind of a shitty brother. Convincing her that she needs to marry a guy for the sake of their people, and also that the guy is a gross weirdo and a freak.

...Like, to a degree that isn't untrue. I could imagine Laios being weird to her the way he is about wanting to count Izutsumi's nipples.

But the key there is that there isn't much if any genuine sexual interest or desire. And I don't think he'd pressure her into sex, whether it's expected of them after marriage or not.

Honestly, it's hard to tell what Laios's actual sexual interests are. Like, his comment in the extra about orc breasts and bottoms. Could just be him talking about what's conventionally attractive, and not his own interests.

On the other hand, the succubus that looks like Marcille. Kisses him on the mouth. The succubi aren't just about sexual desire, Izutsumi is basically confirmed ace, and hers looks like her mom (or at least, the one for her human soul, it seems like the one for her animal soul is meant to appeal sexually, given her comment about the soul having good taste) but.

The succubus for Laios has multiple components, about turning into a monster, about his friends accepting him and his love for monsters and turning into monsters themselves, but. Even though the fake Marcille says she can turn anyone by biting them, anywhere. She still gets him with a kiss. So I can't quite tell what that's about.

Insofar as there's any shipping in the idea I have. I think, given the Orc propensity for polygamy, I think Leed could assume that Marcille is going to be Laios's other wife, or already is.

And I personally actually ship Falin and Marcille more, but also that they aren't in a relationship yet by the time of the series and have to figure things out afterwards, and. Like, Leed is very emotionally intelligent when dealing with Chilchuck, but. I think, insofar as she should be involved in any relationship drama, being as young as she is. I think it would be extremely funny for anyone to be dropped into that situation, without any context, and have to live in a building with those people while all that's going on.

She thinks she's going to be a child bride, and ends up becoming a relationship counselor slash military strategist. That's the funniest idea, to me.

Leed is a Minor!!

“I suppose she would be around her third year in middle school.”

This comment from Daydream Hour is the only info we have for her age/maturity, or orcs' age of maturity in general.

The whole "Bride of Laois" thing doesn't automatically mean that she is mature, it means that orc culture mirrors plenty of real-world cultures that also let women marry at 14/15.

She must be protected at all costs!

[smallestapplin]

HIII! I just wanted to say that I absolutely adore your work. THE RESCUE BOTS POST ARE JUST IT. I love them all although Our sweet helicopter guy posts and your head canons for him are just *chef's kiss*. Could I request some head canons on how their first date with the (human)reader would go? (Ofc if anyone hasn't requested that yet) Just genuinely curious about your opinion on that. THANK UUU ヾ(＾-＾)ノ

I love Blades so much, he’s such a sweetie! He and Heatwave are my faves no doubt (chase is in there too, im weak.)

-

-

- First date with Blades! He’s a mess asking Dani and Boulder for help, he finally managed to ask you out and you said yes! He didn’t think he’d get that far at all! They have to calm him down before giving him advice or a sweet date idea which he all takes to spark. Blades is beyond nervous, he wants to make a good impression as a suitable partner so badly, he’s scaredhe’s going to mess this up and you’ll never want to see him again. He has to be talked down part two.

- He spends most of his time before hand getting a nice blanket ready, with Dani, Cody, and Graham helping him pack human food for a nice picnic, while Chase, Heatwave, and Boulder attempt to help but it’s mostly Boulder trying to properly explain the purpose to Chase and Heatwave putting some cubes of energon in the picnic basket for him. Aside from that Blades is cleaning himself with all he has, making sure ever crack is cleaned, his intierior cleaned and smelling good, and then polishing himself to look pretty.

- The closer the time ticks to the hour you two planned he grows more and more nervous, he’s shaking trying not to cry thinking of every worse case scenario. That is until you pull up, dressed in a very nice but still casual outfit, it’s something he’s never seen you in it instantly has his wings fluttering making a loud ‘ptptpt’ sound, and his face plate bright blue. He stutters in greeting you but he’s such a cute mess.

- He’s nothing short of sweet to you. He transforms and lets you hop in so he fly you both to a safer more private location (and away from the prying eyes and optics his friends) you probably have to reassure him you don’t mind cause he will start nervously rambling.

- Most likely taking you to one of the smaller uninhabited islands around Griffin rock for a nice picnic, it’s nice, it’s private, and it’s just the two of you (he will get flack for this later since the other couldn’t spy on him.)

- A little picnic by the shore with your favorite helicopter. His frame is polished, buffed and waxed to look his best, the moment you tell him how pretty he looks his face plate is bright blue and he’s giggling like an idiot. Smitten.

- Please keep giving him compliments throughout the day, he’s trying his best to compliment you, tell you how dashing you look, how much he likes you but he keeps getting choked up, but if you say something back like “you’re too sweet, Blades.” Or “Could say the same to you, handsome.” He will start to buffer and you’re going to need to give him a moment, a very cute moment.

- Overall it’s fun! So much to talk about with Blades, he never runs out of a topic even if you do, so much sand on the shore to build sandcastles together and make up stories about your kingdoms, or even find a pretty rock to give each other! It’s easy to have fun and fall into fits of laughter with him.

- He doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t want this day to end, even as you’re sat on his shoulder leaning against his helm, both of you relaxing after using so much of your energy. You place a kiss to his temple, “thank you for the lovely day, I had a blast. I hope we can have another soon.”

- Congrats, you’ve killed him. When he finally does managed to get back, the team is asking for details but he squeals into his servos everytime he remembers something even slightly flirty you did.

[frownyalfred]

how dare rude anons make u need to turn anon off, dont they know theyre specifically preventing me, a cool and amazing person, from sending u my anon thoughts? thats wayyyy too important they have no idea the damage theyve done lol.

i hope those assholes leave you alone for a while.

anyways. thinking about how lex is going to be pregnant when jason goes public as being alive again and how hormonal and irritated and protective he's going to be of the pup during the whole media fiasco. im genuinely so excited to see what story they come up with about what happened, and see lex lose his shit on anybody who even looks at their pup wrong. sorry guys he's not holding back on shit reporters anymore.

🤣 thanks anon. I sucked it up and turned it back on just for folks like you.

Lex and Jason are gonna have the worst time because Lex is technically now the focus of all those delicious “protect/vulnerable” pack instincts now. Even though Jason is still a pup in Lex’s eyes, he’s not the youngest or most vulnerable anymore. Lex is! So now they get to go back out into the world together and play a hilarious game of “no YOU wait while I get out of the car first and look around” and Lex loses his goddamn mind.

[ilikekidsshows]

I’d hate to add to your messages talking about mlb, but if you’re not tired to rant about mlb yet, I wanna discuss how so much of this is caused by fans just not accepting the humanity of abusers and the neutrality of love. Like, feeling sympathy for abusers is not only normal, but almost expected in an abusive relationship. It’s why so many people stay in abusive relationships! Abusers are not always monstrous villains that hold you hostage through inescapable violence, often it’s your own feelings and sympathies that hold you hostage, because abusers are human too! And they can love you! Treating love as this ultimate source of goodness and light has done so much damage, because it really tricks people into thinking that if someone loves you they can’t hurt you, and if they hurt you then they aren’t sympathetic.

---

Exactly. That’s it 100%. The Miraculous fandom debated for literal years if Gabriel really loved Adrien or not because they had such a difficulty wrapping their head around the idea that Gabriel could abuse Adrien while still loving him. And, like, that’s specifically the biggest trap of parental abuse. Parents think that, as long as they’re loving, their behavior towards their kids can’t be abusive, and, when, years later, their grown up kids want to go no-contact due to the abuse, they feel like their child has spurned their love. Sometimes the kids grow up and say: “my parents did (insert abusive thing) but I wasn’t abused, I was loved.”

Similarly, a lot of abuse victims do stay in abusive relationships because there’s mutual love there, they can either think or hear others say things like: “they really love you” and “it would hurt them so much to never see you again”. People have heard of “lovebombing”, abusive behavior being followed up by extravagant expressions of love, and gone “ah, I see, so abusers only pretend to love their victims to get them to stay,” but that’s also not how it works. Sometimes the cycle is purposeful, but sometimes the abuser does lovebombing accidentally, because they realize they’ve overstepped and want to make up for their mistake. Abusers can genuinely regret their abusive actions, but it’s the lack of breaking away from these behaviors instead of merely making up for them that turns singular actions into abusive behavioral patterns.

Abuse doesn’t happen just because someone goes: “I think I will abuse my child/significant other/etc today”, it happens because some people use power in different forms against their loved ones, sometimes because they want to feel powerful, sometimes because they’re really stressed out and can’t be bothered to negotiate in a respectful way and sometimes they think they know better and the other party needs to be “persuaded” to take their good advice. Not all abusers are evil monsters who enjoy the suffering of others and thinking that’s how abuse works is naive and overly simplistic. It provides cover for so many abusers, because very few humans are so rotten that they never manage a genuine kind gesture towards someone.

The people writing Miraculous think remorse and separate kind gestures are enough to stop a character from being an abuser even when their behavior keeps coming back to the same abusive patterns. Gabriel making pancakes for Adrien in Season 5 and letting him quit modeling was supposed to be build-up to his vindication as a good person who only wanted the best for Adrien (ignore how he still mind-controlled him and put him into a sensory deprivation cell). Similarly, André making up for all the time he doesn’t spend with Chloé teaching her right from wrong by buying her expensive gifts means that he was a good father who did his best and he can’t be blamed for Chloé turning out the way she did (somehow Astruc is able to see Chloé has been “taught wrong” but can’t seem to be able to point the finger at the person who taught her to begin with).

The parents in Miraculous have done irreparable damage to their children, but, because they genuinely regret their actions and love their children, and most importantly, never hit them (because that’s the real abuse), their children are expected to accept and forgive their parents. I’d love to hear Astruc and crew’s thoughts on the parents of no-contact adult children whining about their kids abandoning them on Youtube.

[tucsonhorse]

I am autistic and I find that being precise is very important to me. With some people I will find myself doing things like sharing more detail about something someone is talking about or letting them know about a common misconception or similar and they seem to get really annoyed about it. And like I try to be nice about it and only correct the big things, but some people get mad if I say anything.

I don't think you're being a contrarian like your sibling, I've dealt with people like that before and it's annoying and in my experience most people avoid them, not to mention lots more people complain about it. I think these specific people are saying you're always picking a fight because they see anything other than complete agreement/acceptance of what they're saying as an argument. That's a common thing with people who are more authoritarian types, especially if they are dealing with someone that they think they do or should have authority over.

When it comes to talking a lot I see two possible reasons. First is anxiety. Autistics, especially late diagnosed autistics, are often misunderstood. So we develop a coping mechanism of trying to explain every nuance of what we mean and cover every possible misconception in order to avoid being misunderstood. This means we tend to go on at length (much like my reply here...), even more so if we're anxious or dealing with someone who has previously criticised or misunderstood us.

My second thought is if you're talking about a special interest. From the context it doesn't sound like that's what's happening in the situations you're talking about, especially since you don't want to be talking.

I can't tell you why your sibling is like this. I can tell you that my mom's whole family is like that and they all seem to enjoy "discussing" things with one another. I don't understand it and most of the rest of us hate when they do it, but my mom and certain of her siblings (and her father when he was alive) could argue for hours and clear out a whole house as the rest of us ran away from it.

To stop talking a lot if it's from anxiety takes practice. You start by trying to recognize when you're doing it, which can be tough. Once you're recognizing it you can work on stopping yourself when you notice it happening and work on becoming comfortable with the idea of being misunderstood so that you don't feel the urge to explain so in depth.

As for telling the difference between a conversation and an argument, that's a lot harder in my experience. Some of it is recognizing tone of voice and if the person's voice is getting tight/tense then I assume that they think I'm arguing (this requires being able to perceive tone of voice). If that happens I will stop adding information or disagreeing with them at all and usually try to exit the conversation as soon as I can. If I still want/need to add information I'll try starting with phrases like "I totally agree, and also..." to make it explicit that I am agreeing with them rather than arguing. And with people who seem to always think I'm arguing I will basically stop sharing any information with them. When I feel the urge to correct them or add context I'll ask myself if their lack of knowledge/incorrect knowledge is or is likely to cause genuine harm to themself or others and if the answer is no then I just don't say anything.

Question that I suspect is autism related

I have, on more than one occasion over multiple decades, been told that I “need to have the last word” and that I “have a response for everything”.

Additionally and in a similar vein, I’ve been told that “everything is an argument with you” and I “always have to say something”.

When I was a little kid I was bad at conversations. People said stuff I had no opinion on or didn’t need follow-up and so I wouldn’t answer and they’d get bored. And eventually through trial and error I figured out that if someone said something to me, all I had to do was say something related back, and the interaction could go on as long as it needed to.

But then as a teen- and now as an adult- a number of people (mostly people I’ve found to be very delicate and particular about things in a sort of need-to-be-in-control authoritarian way) have expressed the identical observation about how I naturally try to converse, and I’m not sure what to do about it.

And the thing is, I have a sibling that talks like this too. We bicker all the time. He changes his own opinions seemingly at a whim for the purpose of being contrary, and it’s impossible to make a statement or observation out loud without him contradicting it, and even when he is demonstrably, factually wrong about something, he will dig his heels into the dirt and defend his stance to the grave.

And like. I hear myself responding, or adding on to people’s comments, but I don’t hear the ‘arguing’ they describe, or the contrarian habits of my sibling. Even when I’m paying attention and being bery careful not to follow up too much or speak too often or disagree or correct something that isn’t important, I get called out for “picking a fight”. They say something, I answer, they reply, I continue, then seemingly out of nowhere they snap. I think everything’s fine until suddenly it isn’t.

And so I guess my question is, how can you tell if you’re a contrary sort of person? How can you tell when to respond or follow up on a person’s statement and how do you know when to leave it in silence? Does everybody see me this way, and is it only people who are already short-tempered who are willing to say it?

I honestly don’t really have that much to say, and half the time I don’t even really want to talk at all, but I’ve been told countless times that I “just seem to like the sound of your own voice” and have to just be “tuned out after a while”. So if it isn’t necessary and I don’t even want to, why am I doing it?

Is there a reason I’m like this? Why is my sibling like this? How do I stop talking when there’s nothing to say, and how can I tell the difference between a conversation and an argument before the other person visibly snaps?

I’m a full grown adult