#So who says ya can’t combine them together

[wanderfan2000]

A video mashup I made back in May 2022 to celebrate the 25th anniversary of The Lost World: Jurassic Park. Also, I threw in the Japanese title theme from Pokémon The Movie 2000 into the mix too. 

[pampushky]

Mon Petit Doudou

Pornstar! Charles Leclerc/Pornstar! Reader - 7.4k

here it is!! enjoy! please reblog and share and all that lovely stuff! getting your comments makes my day and seeing how excited everyone was for this made me super happy :)

uhhh anyway. Might be a bit inaccurate, I'm not all that well versed in BDSM stuff so if anything is like... a super negative connotation within the community that's inaccurate (besides one character who has bad etiquette for plot reasons sorry)

anyway lmk what ya think lmao

masterlist |

He was too beautiful to be doing something like this for a living. With those bewitching hazel eyes. The effortlessly styled hair. His athletic build. The sweet slur of his accent as he lowered his voice to a sultry level when he talked to you.

But weren’t you as well? Wasn’t that why you fought so hard for your anonymity? That was why you had only ever allowed your mouth or lower to be seen in any stream or video, combined with the concealer that hid away any tattoos or marks from the prying eyes of those who watched you pleasure yourself on camera. Why you never wore your glasses to any professional shoot. It became a necessity to dress so differently on and off screen.

So why did it feel so weird now? Two of you, the same profession between you as you discuss plans for your… collaboration. Charles smiles at you. Stubbly beard and white teeth, a bit of the foam from his coffee clinging to his mustache. Perfectly styled hair as though he’d just stepped out of a convertible. You know you look similar. The soft cardigan slipping off your shoulders. Exposing the delicate tattoos of rue on your upper arms that circled your biceps and danced up to your shoulders.

Herb-of-grace. Purity. Innocence. How ironic for you, considering what your profession had turned into. From a part-time job to a serious career that often ended up having better benefits and more money. 

Charles leans forward, whispering something in French you don’t quite catch, making you frown as he cackles, leaning back. Other tables at the cafe look at the two of you, and you can see the adoration in their eyes. You look like the perfect couple. In a way, you are, just not a romantic one. A spoiled rotten sub and the protective, sweet dom.

“I think you should let them see the tattoos, no? I think they would like it,” Charles says, shit eating grin on his lips. “What does the rue flower represent again?” Because he damn well knows what it means, he just likes to tease you.

“You’re impossible,” you take a steady sip from your cup, looking down at the journal that you’d brought to jot any ideas or notes down in. “You are aware of that, right?”

“But the people like it.” Charles leans back with a shrug. “So. To continue…”

If only the other tables were close enough to hear any of your discussion. To hear the things he was suggesting. But you couldn’t even protest against most of his ideas— they were appealing. Sponsorship deals that both of you had been offered. Not only would your audience like it, but… well, you would enjoy it as well. You can’t help but the little smile that makes its way onto your lips when he nudges you under the table with his foot. 

“Don’t play footsie with me,” you kick him back gently, making sure to just brush his shin. “Who said it was my foot?”

“Har har.” You roll your eyes, but Charles kicks you again, and you can’t help but laugh with your head tilted back. “And was that your foot, this time?” “Wouldn’t you like to see, hm?” 

The rest of the video series is figured out pretty easily. The safewords, plot, who’s going to edit the videos (Max will. He’s one of Charles’s buddies who you’ve seen edit together the most filthy things from previous collaborations and blending everything together with a straight face while sucking on a fancy bendy straw leading to a tall can of Red Bull). You’re comfortable with it all, even asking if Max would be willing to let you use the straw for your water bottle during filming breaks when shooting more traditional videos. 

“Probably not. He’s very protective of it,” Charles says sagely, watching as you just doodle loops and loops of ink into your journal. “Do you still use the same brand of concealer? Just so I can have it on hand. The other bottle you gave me expired.”

“Ah, no, ended up having a bad reaction with it the last time I used it,” you scratch your neck and shrug the cardigan back on. Covering up the twin rue tattoos. “I’ll text you the new brand. I can bring it, too, because it’s a bit pricy…” 

“Don’t worry about it, I can get it.”

“Yeah?” 

“Of course,” Charles looks down at his phone when you text him the link, frowning more so about how you had thought you’d even need to think about buying it. A bottle of your matching shade is ordered by the end of his sentence. “You know that.”

“Tattoo seals are also a good thing to use,” You turn to reach into your bag, missing the way that he traces over the leafy, flowering tattoos on your shoulders. You push a few of the little stickers across to him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Don’t have to worry about replacing or cleaning the sheets, then.” 

“Hm. My smart girl,” His praise falls easily from his lips, and he doesn’t miss the way your gaze seems to soften for just a second after it. “I’ll let you know,” Charles snaps a picture of a few and pushes them back towards you. “Stream in a few days then? Don’t forget the collar, mon chou,”

You just laugh, leaning back in your seat while finishing your tea. Like you haven’t been discussing an upcoming scene that will take place in your next shoot with your dom over coffee. How you’ll split the costs and whatever monetization comes from the videos, while also letting him spoil you with the tea and pastries you love. It’s almost like a date. Perhaps in another life, it would be such an innocent thing, and not the planning of a semi-niche porn live stream.

Charles trails kisses down your neck, letting his stubble brush against you, chuckling as your skin flushes, leaving a wake of goosebumps and heated skin under his lips. The camera is on, but you don’t exactly see it, most of your face is pushed out of frame with how you’re lying across his lap.

“Are you going to be good, mon chou?” 

One of his hands rubs softly on your back, while you’re laid across his lap. You’re face down, and you know you’re positioned in a way so that the viewers will be able to see all of your body. You squirm gently, and nod, trying to tilt your head back so that you’ll be a bit closer to his face. You lay so that you’re facing away from the camera. Your tattoos have been carefully covered with a mix of concealer and tattoo patches. It’s warm, and you feel safe, your mind fuzzy as you slip into subspace. Your hair falls in small waves around the duvet, like a halo. 

Sitting comfortably against your neck is your newest collar. A lovely burgundy leather with brass d-rings and pressed eyes that have been carefully polished to shine. A few pendants hang off the D-ring, little gifts from Charles to you. The inside of the collar itself is lined with soft velvet, made to stop the skin from chaffing. Admittedly, Charles had splurged on it for you, wanting you to have only the best as he worshiped you.

“Uh uh uh,” His hand moves to cup the small of your back to stop your squirming. “Doudou, they want to see you. Don’t move so much,” He looks over at the screen, where a few messages are beginning to pop in. A few donations pop onto the stream’s overlay, displayed for all to see, along with the chat on the side, displayed by one of his other monitors.

ugh she’s so cute (€5) Is that a new collar? Looks so cute on her!! (€10) awww!! she’s getting so excited!! happy to see you both <3 (€20) Such a good girl, listening so well already (€5) Make her answer the question. Give a sub an inch and they’ll take a mile. (€50)

Charles frowns at one of the more recent messages in the chat. Very rarely did he ever need to punish you for being a brat or acting out of turn. Whenever he did do this, it was always scripted for the viewers. Played up, and a rare event that usually came after a request was put in for it, along with a substantial amount of money. But fifty euros is nothing close to what would substantiate any punishment, so he brushes over it and smiles at the chat as more tips and excited messages drop in.

“Oh, mon chou, they’re so happy to see you again,” Charles whispers, watching as the viewer count starts to grow as people tap on the notification that you’ve both gone live. More comments in the chat pour in. “Yes, she’s been so good lately, haven’t you, ma moitié?”

He runs a hand up and down your back, and then gently squeezes the swell of your ass. You squirm a little bit again and make a needy noise rather than answering.

Make her answer. She seems like a bit of a spoilt sub, needs a reminder of who’s in control. (€50)

The message donation floats on the stream overlay for a few seconds, before being replaced by more donations. The chat is a mix of more praise and excitement along with a handful of confused ‘???’ about the last donation message. It’s the same username as the other donation that had confused him a bit. His mouth quirks down into a frown before he quickly masks it with a little smirk as he looks down at you.  

“Doudou, have you been good?” Charles whispers softly in your ear, leaning down to ask you. His stubble brushes over your skin, and he gently rubs your lower back, encouraging you to speak. “They want to hear your sweet voice, bébé.”

“Uh–huh,” you mumble out, starting to squirm again. “Been good, sir.”

“Yes or no, bébé,” Charles gently reminds you, his touch still reverent around your skin as you lay across his lap, stomach facing down. “I know you have, but our lovely friends watching you don’t.”

“Y-yes, been so good,” your voice is soft, and his heart melts. Charles is already a very soft dom towards you. Never pushing. Never raised his voice. He doesn’t like using any crops or toys that can verge on pain. That’s just what the relationship between the two of you had become. 

she’s so cute!! Aaksfhasl so so good for us!! I just wanna see her cute little face (T^T) She’s so eager to please!! 

The chat is a blur at this point. Mostly compliments for your good behavior and how eager you appear to be to start the steam. Lovingly, Charles rubs your back again. Kisses the top of your head, and then gently starts to finger you open, prepping you for what you’d both discussed for today’s streams.

“There’s a bunch of toys we’ve gotten today,” Charles leans back to grab the little basket of toys, reading out their names and the slightly dry sponsor segments he knows he has to read. He lifts each one to show the camera, and you press your legs together with a whine as he reads out the descriptions the sponsors had given him for each toy.

He tilts his head back to laugh a little bit at your desperation and softly kisses the small of your back. 

“You should have seen her the other day,” Charles looks at the camera, while you let out little squeaks. You’re still on his lap and trying your best to keep still as he gently pumps in and out of you with his ring and middle fingers. “She was so good. Even when she had a plug in.” 

Hot hot hot omg

You squirm slightly at his words. Whining softly. Staying as still as possible just like he’d told you, lost in the sweetness of subspace. The tip of his middle finger brushes against a very special, spongy spot inside of you that has you keening into the duvet on Charles’s bed. 

“Oh? Did I find something?” Charles feigns disinterest while curling his fingers to press just a bit harder into your G-spot. He reaches with his other hand to grab the camera, wanting the chat to have a good view of your folds clenching around his fingers tightly. When he pulls his fingers out, they glisten with your wetness, and your sweet hole tightens around nothing. “Look at you, so responsive for me,”

He brings himself to a slower pace, no longer thrusting his fingers in and out of you with the same rigor as he had minutes before. You wiggle your rear at him again, craning your neck to look over your shoulder at him with a little sigh, your pleading look invisible to the camera. Just as his lips quirked into a small smile over your sass, another donation popped up just as he pressed the camera back onto its little stand. 

What an indignant little thing. Put her in her place, hopefully this helps you grow a pair. (€100)

Charles holds back every childish instance to flash his balls to the camera just to specifically show this donor that he does indeed have a pair, and a rather substantial set at that. You whine again, and without really thinking, he brings his palm down onto your left cheek, the one closest to the camera. It’s not too hard, and it sounded worse than it actually was. You let out a little yelp, and still, your hands fist in the duvet covers even tighter, looking over your shoulder at him with wide, shocked eyes. 

“You know better than to whine, you’ll get what you want,” Charles' gaze softens, and he already feels a bit of regret for spanking you without warning. The collar around your neck shifts a bit, some of the pendants hanging off the D-ring jingle together from how you’d jerked your head back to look at him. The little bell on the collar chimes sweetly, and soothingly, Charles continues to rub your left cheek, leaning down to softly kiss you out of frame. You whine, and he swallows all your noises, before leaning back in, looking at the camera while lovingly soothing the skin where he’d smacked down. 

To some satisfaction, he can’t see any new donations from that particular donor. He’ll make sure you feel nothing but loved, with the two hundred euros the person had dropped on it. Charles just smiles again, letting his hand still on your lower back, continuing with the stream as planned. 

An hour in and he’s had you nearly cumming on one of the rabbit toys sent to you. It’s smooth, and the actual toy part is a lovely mint green color. A very nice one, with several different speeds used to keep you squirming and whining softly under his touch. Small sighs of “—Sir— please—” and “Ch—Charles—” fall from your lips ever so often, and he even manages to coax a loud moan from your lips, which the chat goes insane about. When you do climax, you don’t even have the where-with-all to try and warn Charles. And he doesn’t even mind, he’s always been happy to just let you chase your own pleasure and highs. 

You whine, slumping against him, feeling him pull the still-vibrating toy from your folds. Your clit is puffy and engorged, and the chat loves to see how you whimper as Charles brushes his fingers through your folds, holding the camera close to give everyone a good view of your still-twitching cunt. 

so pretty now give her another!! Her whines omg Good Girl <3 (€25)  Such a cute little sub Wish i had a dom to take care of me like she does waaaa

Despite himself, Charles smirks, knowing his face is out of view while he gives everyone a good view of your slick heat. The donor who’d been provoking him hadn’t said anything in a while. He grins at every little noise you make, especially with how you whimper at his touches, still sensitive. But you don’t move away— you know you’re safe, and that he’d never do anything to harm you. You have safewords for that exact reason, and you’d never had to use them outside of practice scenarios Charles would make you do just in case. 

He settles the camera back onto its stand, tilting it down so that the stream can also see a bit of himself. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low around his hips. The waistband of his boxers is visible, showing off the V-line of his lower body, and the happy trail of dark brown fuzz that crawls up his torso. 

“Did you like that one, mon chou?” Charles croons, moving so that he blocks the view of the camera, purposefully hiding your pretty face so that you have a bit of time to reposition yourself. “Hmm?”

“Mhm,” your voice is dreamy, and your head lolls uselessly to the side as he strokes your cheek. “S’good…” 

There’s no need for you to call him ‘sir’ at this moment. He doesn’t even really enforce the title, it’s just something that slips out occasionally while he takes care of you. It’s adorable, in all honesty, the way that you talk when he’s truly gotten you into the hazy, carefree state that is your subspace, never so much as raising his voice when talking to you. That’s his brand. That’s your brand. Just a needy sub and soft dom pairing that verged on Charles having an obsession with you cumming and feeling safe while he’s there. 

The rest of the stream goes about as planned. Charles tries a variety of new toys on you, ranging from a dual-purpose clitoral suction toy that doubles as a dildo to vibrating anal beads that you are not much a fan of, but let him try them on you for the sake of experimentation. It all comes to the grand finale of Charles then having you bounce on his lap as you ride his thick cock, your walls clenching around him as you whine and wail out pleas for him. 

“That’s it, mon chou, you’re being so good for me, always so wonderful,” Charles squeezes your waist, guiding you up and down on his lap as you whine out a sound that might be his name. The camera has a wonderful view of your back, zoomed in to specifically see the way he slides in and out of you. Your cream covers his cock. 

You lean against him, your forehead on his shoulder as you gasp and pant. He can feel the way you’re loosely gripping onto his shoulders, not strong enough to scratch his skin, but certainly hard enough to remind him that you were here, if the warm wetness of your cunt somehow didn’t. 

“Where do you want me? Where, mon chaton?” Charles whispers against your head, and he is rewarded by you looking at him with a hazy glance, just for him.

“I-inside,” you whimper, trying to lean against him further, trying to get him to press his face against yours, stopped only by the fact that he needs to keep your face out of frame.

So he gently moves so that both of your faces are out of frame, his stubbled cheek against yours. Thrusts growing more rapid until you clench around him, trying to milk his cock for anything he may give you. He finishes a minute after, twitching inside of you, and breathing hard as he comes down from his high. In the back of his mind, Charles imagines his cum settling in your womb. Making a baby. Seeing you grow round as the months passed, needing help with simple things. Perhaps it would have if it weren’t for your implant and his vasectomy. Just precautions of the trade. 

Gently, he pulls himself from you, still panting. He brings the camera closer, giving the viewers a good look at how his seed trickles from your folds, mixing with your release. 

hot!! Eeeek!! breeding kink breeding kink She’d look so fucking cute all round with a baby Give her a baby!! (€20)

Charles pauses the camera feed for a few minutes, gently wiping at your core with a warm cloth and praising you endlessly as you mewl helplessly. The chat feeds into his little fantasy. He thinks about you as his housewife. Coming home from a normal office job rather than a studio shoot with other people. Kissing the rue flower tattoos on your shoulders lovingly, while his hands come to hold the little bump of your pregnant belly. 

But with a shake of his head, it’s gone. Because that isn’t your relationship with him. So he turns the camera back on with you settled in his lap, wearing a pair of his boxers and one of his hoodies. You’re curled up happily, face nuzzled into his shoulder, hiding everything away from the camera’s view. He can feel you placing almost sleepy kisses on his neck, along with the contented sighs you’re making. 

As is the normal routine, Charles thanks everyone for their donations, while also allowing viewers to make requests in the chat. Answering questions about the little break from any streaming and videos the two of you would normally do. This is usually when more of the donations sweep in, much bigger ones. The notifications are delayed, and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees one rather large donation come through. 

I’d like to commission something of the two of you. I’ll be reaching out to your business email after the stream, just to ensure that this tip doesn’t bounce. (€800)

It’s the same username as the donor who had dropped €200 earlier in the stream. Part of Charles feels incredibly uneasy over whatever this commission could entail, simply based on the comments they had made in their previous donations. 

But if they had been able to give over €1000 in a single stream…. Which was nearly a third, if not more, of the total donations…

You shift slightly in Charles’ lap, bringing him back to the present. You’re still lost, he can see that by the distant, glazed-over look in your eyes. What you need right now is a good bath, a bottle of water, and something to snack on while he massages the knots from your back. You can talk about the possibility of something like a commissioned video later.

“That’s…. Hm, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we, bébé?” Charles grins, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead, before bidding farewell to the stream, and turning off the camera. The donations still pour in for another thirty minutes, and that’s when Charles gets the light ping that everything’s done downloading, right as he’s gotten you to finish a bottle of water. He sends it to Max immediately, who’s already gotten the rough outline of how the video should look. Charles will go over to his apartment tomorrow to work on the specifics of what everything should look like, and then send the link to you for final approval to post. Knowing Max, the Dutchman is likely just starting to wake up as the world is going to sleep. He’ll probably have a mockup done just as the sun starts to rise. 

For now, Charles turns his focus to you, watching as you slowly munch on goldfish crackers, as if deep in thought. It’s funny, really, you’re so lost in your thoughts and somewhat spaced out still. But when you look at him, he can see the little grin on your face as he walks over to you. Letting you curl into his embrace.

“You’re all sweaty.”

“Mm. I was fucking you rather hard near the end.”

That makes you giggle, and you look up at him with a mischievous little grin. “You also spanked me.”

“I did.” Charles swallows a bit of his guilt down. “Are you sore?”

“No. It was… just unexpected.” You fiddle with the strings of his sweatpants, and he plays with the hair at the back of your head. It’s domestic and sweet. It could be a scene from the everyday life of any young couple. Charles feels like he’s in the wrong for wishing it was. “It startled me a bit. Nothing bad.”

“Sorry.” 

You just shrug, and let him help you out of the hoodie. With the utmost care, he peels off the tattoo seals. Wipes away the concealer. And helps you into the shower, washing away any of the stubborn bits of makeup that insisted on staying behind. The rue flowers bloom under his touch, and without really thinking, Charles kisses them, his lips trailing around your shoulders and upper arms as if he’s worshiping some idol. 

It’s the most intimate thing someone’s ever done for you. And Charles realizes he may have just crossed a serious line, looking back at you like a deer in the headlights as you stare at him over your shoulder, with a mildly sleepy gaze. His hands start to shake.

“Why’d you stop?” 

The way you tilt your head is sinful. That someone so innocent and willing to give submit body to him looks at him in such a way. Asking such obvious questions when you already know the answer. Entering a relationship because of your shared profession with him could be catastrophic. You both work in such a niche of your industry when it comes to the kinks and roleplays you’re willing to work through that both of you would be screwed if feelings got in the way of your work. 

“Because we shouldn’t take it any further,” 

“What if I want you to?”

Charles nearly chokes on his surprise. The water is still warm around him. Your hair still has the conditioner in it, just soaking on your scalp as you wait for him to help you wash it out. 

“That’s a bad idea. We shouldn’t.”

“But you were just kissing my tattoos.” Your brow furrows. “That’s hardly the porn we normally shoot.”

“It’s—  it’s not about the porn—”

“Then ask me out.” You say it so plainly. As if it’s that easy… and maybe it is. “I like you.”

“What?”

“I like you. You seem to like me.”

“I do like you!” Charles blurts out. And then blushes violently, his pale skin turning a vibrant pink-red as he starts to rinse the conditioner out of your hair, making you turn away from him so he doesn’t get any of it in your eyes. He still feels guilty for spanking you without much warning. “But don’t you think this could be weird—”

“I think it could be nice.” You sigh, leaning into his touch. Entrusting him to put you back together after breaking you apart. “Don’t you?”

He can’t bring himself to speak after that. Drives you home. You watch him from the window of your apartment as the rear lights of his car fade away. 

The moment Charles is out of sight, he goes to Max’s flat. Pounding on the door hard until the disgruntled Dutchman opens up. He can hear Daniel moving around somewhere in the apartment, talking to one of the cats as Charles stands dumbly at the threshold of the happy couple’s home.

“What?”

“I think I’m in love with her,” Charles blurts out, and Max just scowls further.

“Mate, I could have told you that!” Daniel calls from deeper in the house, as Max pulls the panicked man inside, making him sit down in the cozy living room. Max’s computer set up is pushed into the corner, with a cat tower beside the desk. Sassy currently sleeps happily on the highest little bed, while Jimmy weaves through Daniel’s legs as the Australian offers a slice of pizza to Charles. “What finally made you realize?”

“She— she told me to ask her out. Wait— does that count as her asking me out—?” 

Charles’ voice grows more frantic, and his hands go to his hair as he starts to pace in the living room. Both cats watch him go back and forth, while Max settles at his desk, opening the file to start editing. 

“Who cares? Do it. You’ve been making moony eyes at her for the past year of working with her.” Max grumbles, clearly unamused by the drama of it all. 

“We make porn together!”

“So? That’s how I met Max.” Daniel tilts his head, at which point Jimmy does the same. The Monegasque frowns at him. “Didn’t stop us.”

“You’re both gay.”

“Ouch.” Max’s stoic tone is somehow cutting, even when he’s focused on the screen, pulling up the video Charles had sent to him, and then the outline on the other monitor. “I don’t see how that changes anything. The only difference is that I was Daniel’s editor rather than costar.”

Charles flops onto the couch. Daniel just looks down at the man, before looking over his shoulder at his boyfriend. “And how’d you respond?”

“What?”

“How did you respond to her asking you out?”

His face goes blank, and a look of realization dawns on his face. 

“I panicked?”

“How badly?”

“I kept— okay I responded pretty badly,” Charles admits, and then groans right into his hands, rubbing his face in frustration. He keeps thinking about how he’d kissed your tattoos. Had he inadvertently made you feel like you could ask that? Furthermore, were you really, truly asking that, or were you still somewhat caught up trying to be a good sub?

Images of you sleeping in his bed as the morning sun rises conjure up in his mind, followed by cooking together in the kitchen of his flat, and he can’t help but groan angrily at himself for letting such a fantasy with someone who he could call his coworker appear in his mind at this moment. You, smiling up at him with that coy grin on your face as you sit across from him at the cafe, brushing your foot against his shins while sipping at your cup of tea. Your feet up on his lap while reading a book on his couch, pure domestic bliss. 

“Fuuuuck,” Charles just keeps his hands on his face. “She’s gonna hate me.” 

“She’s not going to hate you,” Daniel tries to comfort him. “Just tell her you need time to think about it.”

“No but— I was also sending mixed messages,” he mumbles, and he hears a long, drawn-out sigh from both Max and Daniel. “I was kissing her shoulders. I— I couldn’t help it, I felt bad, I kinda spanked her without warning earlier in the stream—”

“Gross.”

“I know! But this one donor was getting so pissy about how she was responding—”

“I’m sorry, you let someone who was watching and imagining touching her dictate how you were actually touching her?” Daniel raises an eyebrow, and he folds his arms across his chest. “Dude. You’re her dom, not to mention how many times you’ve been with her. Why would you get so possessive then?”

Maybe he is a bit possessive. Last year, during a studio-based shoot when another dom had been too rough with you, using your blindfold to practically drag you around the set, and spanking you much harder than he had originally implied he would, Charles had immediately cut the camera and kicked the man out of the room, not even letting him get dressed. He’d gone straight to your side after that, checking you were okay for nearly an hour before even considering letting the filming start again. 

That had earned him a bit of a reputation as possessive over his subs, you in particular. The lack of collaborations with any other actors certainly hadn’t helped much either, with your last one being with Daniel almost half a year ago, and that one had been a cuckolding video, where he had posed as the husband watching his wife getting fucked and bred by another man, not even touching you throughout the process besides a scripted kiss at the end. 

Now, Charles feels like he is 1.) the stupidest man on planet Earth and 2.) just passed up on an opportunity that you had presented him on a silver platter. He stares up at the ceiling as Daniel looks down at him. Maxis typing away in the corner, and makes a little ‘hm’ noise, likely getting to the part of the stream where he’d spanked you. 

“Wow. That sounded bad. Didn’t leave a mark though,” Max hums, and then starts to type again, before making a much more distressed noise. “No fucking way— Dani! It’s the fucking guy again!”

“Wha— really?” Daniel dashes over to look at the screen while Charles stays on the couch. “Ugh. What a fucking creep.”

That piques some interest.

“What?”

“Yeah— the guy with the weird dono? Total creep. Tried to commission me into some weird, non-con roleplay. Wanted to do a solo stream for just him, totally ignored all of my rules for that stuff, and outright told me to ‘Just suck it up’ when I used the safeword for some of the shit he was saying about me.” Daniel shivers, and for a moment, Max looks like he wants to strangle the man until his boyfriend squeezes his shoulder. Charles's blood runs cold. 

“What?!” Charles looks over the username again. MattiaBinn. “Jesus fucking—Je le tuerai moi-même pour avoir voulu que je fasse une telle chose avec elle—”

“English, Charles.”

“I’ll kill him myself,” Charles growls, and starts to march right towards the door, “I need to talk to her right now—”

“Or maybe we need to give her time to cool down,” Daniel reaches towards him, holding onto his shoulder and pulling him backward. “She probably still needs some space and to take care of herself after the stream, regardless of how much aftercare you did with her.”

Part of Charles hates that Daniel’s right. Another part of him says that no, you should be letting him take care of you. That’s what his job was as your dom, he was supposed to take care of you and make sure you didn’t experience sub-drop. You deserve only the best, and right now he’s not acting like that. Quite frankly, he’s being a bit of a self-righteous prick about his own feelings for you. 

His phone pings with a notification, and out of pure irritation, he considers silencing it, until he sees it’s an email from a frankly disturbing email address. From: Mattia Binotto. Subject: Commissioned Private Stream.

“Oh, putain de merde,” Charles groans, and quickly scans through the email. It’s exactly as Daniel described. Non-con, harsher treatment, and quite honestly, the opposite of nearly everything Charles did as a dom and that you would agree to. Infuriatingly, your business email has also been sent this. You text him not a second after he’s done scanning it.

Did you also get this?

It seems… uhm, interesting. 

Attached is a screenshot of the email. You’re awake, at the very least. Alert enough to be checking your business email. He texts back quickly. 

I’m not doing any of that.

That’s not the shit I do. Fuck.

…okay. 

Sorry, you seem to be in a bad mood. 

It’s not your fault

Please don’t blame yourself for any of this, mon doudou

I kinda feel like it is…

I didn’t mean to push any boundaries or make you upset about this

I am sorry, Charles.

Charles wants to bash his head against the wall because now he feels like utter shit for making you feel guilty about his own stupidity. Just as he’s about to text you back you send him a goodnight text. When Daniel glances at the screen he visibly winces. 

“Yeah. I’d give her some space.”

Space turns into a week. Instead of the normal collab stream, you do a solo one. Charles ends up watching it. You’ve got an array of toys behind you, most pretty pastel colors or swirling abstract designs that make an odd pit settle in his stomach at the idea of them bringing you pleasure rather than him.

You’re currently fucking yourself on a dildo he’d gifted you, shaped like… certain sweet treat. It was meant to be a bit of a gag gift— the name of it was called the banana split, for Christ’s sake— but seeing you fuck yourself on it made him groan, palming the hardness in his pants as you gasped and whined. You were wearing one of his hoodies too, muffling your little noises into the sleeves. And the chat was loving it, encouraging you to keep going. 

And then the fucking donation showed up from that fucking prick Mattia.

Needy little thing. Do you think you deserve to cum? (€50)

The robot voice that read out the message had you whining, and you momentarily pause, before slowly lifting your hoodie to give the cam a better view, showing the slight bulge in your tummy from the toy resting inside of you before you started to bounce up and down on it again, rutting your hips forward as if that could provide some respite for the high you were chasing. 

“Y-Yes—wanna cum—” Your face is hidden, as per usual, just off-screen, but at the very top, he can see how your chin wobbles a bit as if you’re currently panting with an open mouth, “Please please please please—”

Hold it. Not yet. Needy little sluts only get what they need when they’re good. (€50)

Rage bubbles in Charles’ stomach. Who the fuck did this asshole think he was, first of all, calling you a needy slut, and then acting like you were his to take care of. Charles makes a note to ban him from both of your chats as soon as this is over. 

He can tell by your posture that you look startled, and the chat mixed. Some are telling Mattia to fuck off, while others are encouraging you to listen because Charles isn’t there. You whimper, confused, and Charles nearly screams, sprinting to get to his keys while the stream continues on his phone. He knows how insane he must look, having porn very audibly playing on his phone, but he doesn’t care, not as he starts his car and calls you. He can hear the phone in the background of your stream, and you whine even louder, the wet sounds of you fucking yourself on the toy pausing.

“Fuck, doudou, pick up,” Charles groans, his driving becomes more and more reckless as he gets closer to your apartment. “Pick up!”

The sounds of your stream seem to pause, and there’s a rustle as you move, hopefully reaching for the phone and—

Did I say you could do that, slut? Or are you too stupid to listen to directions? (€50)

Charles roars as he hears you let out a pathetic whine, followed by sniffles. How dare Mattia insult you like that, how dare he make you feel unsafe when you should be feeling nothing but safe and loved. He was going to find him. He was going to find whoever this Mattia Binotto was and beat the tar out of him.

“M’sorry— wanna be good—”

“You are good,” Charles’ mouth is dry,  right as he pulls outside the front of your flat, with a half-assed park job that’s likely going to get him a ticket if he stays there until morning. “You’re so good, mon petit doudou, just hold on,”

You’re not being good now. Apologize, you useless little slut. No wonder your dom isn’t here. What a spoiled little sub. (€50)

Charles fiddles with the lock, searching for the spare you’d told him about, hidden under a fake rock right off of your stoop. He opens the door, nearly forgets to close it behind him, and screams out your name as he tears through the kitchen.

Find your biggest toy for me. And show us how badly it hurts. Do it if you want to be good for me (€50)

When he manages to get to your room, you’re startled by his sudden appearance, and so is the chat. There’s a new, much larger toy positioned under you, the tip just brushing against your folds. The first thing that Charles does is cut the camera. The next thing he does is end the stream. A final donation, clearly placed before the stream ended appears on the screen, all the notifications from the tip jar making a discordant melody with your hiccuping sobs and Charles’ panting.

The donation makes him see red.

Fuck yourself. Slow. Let me hear you cry. (€50)

You let out a whimper, shaking, as you sink onto the toy, only to be scooped up by Charles. He doesn’t give a shit that he’s knocking around the toys and is probably making his possessive reputation worse. He’s not going to let you hurt yourself because some fucking pervert got in your head, and he’s furious that you’ve fallen for the same manipulation he did. 

“M’sorry— m’sorry, I wanna be good—”

“You’re so good, tu es si bon pour moi,” Charles croons, rocking you back and forth, holding you close as you cry into his chest. “I’m here. I’m here. You don’t have to do any of that. Let me take care of you.”

It takes nearly thirty minutes to get you to stop crying. You keep your face pressed into his shoulder, shaking as Charles soothes you, humming softly to you. He speaks in French, knowing that you enjoy the way his voice sounds when he speaks it. 

“Can you tell me where you are, Doudou?”

“In my bed,” 

“Wonderful job, so smart for me,” Charles praises, kissing your forehead softly. Your grip tightens on his shirt, and he can feel a small huff of air against his skin when you breathe out. “And what’s my name?”

“Charles. You’re Charles.” You murmur. “How did you get in here…?”

“Spare key.” He shifts so that you can look at him, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes under one of your eyes, the skin sticky from tears. “I was… I was watching the stream.”

“Oh.” You lean against his chest, letting him stroke up and down your back. You nuzzle into the collar of the hoodie. Charles presses his nose into your hairline, inhaling your scent, while keeping his lips against your forehead. “So you….saw…”

“He’s banned. It’s the same guy from the commission email.” There’s a hint of rage in his voice, which fades the moment your nose nudges under his chin, dislodging him from your hairline. 

“Thanks.” He can feel the curve of your lips turning into a smile as you nuzzle into him further. “My hero. Taking care of me, even when you’re upset.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” Charles’ voice catches in his throat at the admission, pulling away enough to look down at you. You, smiling up at him with that coy grin on your face, and a sleepy look in your eyes. 

“It could be nice,” You murmur again, shyer than before. “You and me, couldn’t it?”

“I think it could be more than nice,” His lips are so close to yours, enough so that he can feel your breath against them. Charles has been balls-deep in you. Has fucked into you until you cream around his cock and sobbed out his name. But this is quite possibly the most intimate thing he’s ever done with you. “Really, really nice.”

The taste of your lips on his is divine as he holds onto your waist with one hand, and cups your face with the other. You giggle when he pulls away to catch his breath, and before he can even stop himself, he’s grinning and pressing you into the bed, blowing a raspberry against your cheek just to hear your shrill laughter and feel the butterflies in his stomach that appear every time you laugh around him. 

“Mon petit Doudou,” He can’t stop the grin on his face as he kisses all over your face, looking down at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. Your hair is fanning around your head like a halo. Your smile is infectious. And he can see a few blooms from your tattoos under the neckline of your hoodie. His hoodie. “Mine, mine, mine.”

“Yours, yours, yours.” You respond, curling into him happily as the two of you lay in your bed.

[7ndipity]

Accidental Announcement

Taehyung x Idol Reader

Summary: You and Tae’s relationship is revealed to his members in an unplanned, slightly awkward way.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: suggestive, like one swear, Tae refers to reader as his girlfriend,

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anons who sent both of these requests! I decided to combine them into the same piece, I hope that’s okay. Idk why, but it’s funny to me that I went from not really knowing much about Idol AUs, to having several ongoing series’ of them on this blog!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The backstage area of the music show was always so crowded and noisy that it made it easy for Tae to slip up beside you without anyone really paying attention, catching your hand in his before leaning in closer than nessary to mumble lowly in your ear.

“I’ve got a room to myself tonight, do you want to come over?”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” You asked, casting a sidelong glance at him, a smirk playing at the corners of your mouth.

“Whatever you want.” He replied, slipping a keycard into your hand smoothly before going back to find his members.

You were a bit surprised by his brazeness of the action, the past few weeks apart while traveling with your respective groups having apparently made him a little more needy than usual, though you couldn’t say you minded.

It wasn’t uncommon for you and Tae to slip off to each others rooms when you found out you were staying at the same hotel, but it was usually brief since there was the constant risk of one of the members walking in on you, due to having to share rooms all the time. But having a solo room meant there was no such threat for once.

You slipped down to his room after he texted that the coast was clear, spending a relatively quiet evening together before getting ready for bed, borrowing one of his t-shirts to sleep in, having conveniently ‘forgotten’ to bring your own pj’s with you.

As you wandered back out of the bathroom, you noticed Tae very engrosed in whatever it was that he was watching on his phone.

Out of curiosity, you snuck up behind him and peeked over his shoulder to catch a glimpse at his phone, surprised to see yourself, winking at the camera as you danced earlier that night during the music show.

“Are you watching fan edits of me?!” You squealed, making him jump and drop his phone, which you were quick to snatch up to get a better look.

“Ya! That was just in my recomendations! Give it back!” He jumped to his feet, chasing you round the bed, but you were too quick, darting across the mattress to save yourself from a full body tackle. You tried to make a dash for the bathroom, but were to slow, as he managed to grab hold of your arm and spin you so you were pinned between him and the front door.

“Give me that!” He giggled breathlessly as he wrangled his phone out of your grip.

“I can’t believe it, you’re such a fanboy!” You laughed, equally out breath, choosing to wrap your arms around his neck both for support and to pull him down to your eye level.

“Only because you’re so cute.” He cooed, catching your lips in a teasing kiss, trailing his hands up your sides slowly and making you squirm against him, momentarily lost in the feel of each other that you didn’t hear the sound of his door knob turning.

“Taehyung, do you know where- Yi-ash!” Before either of you could react, the door had opened, resulting in you and Tae falling out into the hallway, landing squarely at Jin’s feet in pile of limbs.

For a moment, you all froze, staring wide-eyed at each other in shock.

“Hyung, I-” Tae started.

“What was tha- whoa.” The door to the room next to Tae’s opened, revealing Jungkook and Jimin now peering out, equally shocked. “Y/n?”

“Hi, guys.” You said awkwardly, hyper aware of how compromising your current position looked. “Uh, Tae, can I get up?” You whispered, snapping you boyfriend out of his daze.

“Yeah, sorry!”

“What’s going on?” Jin asked as Tae scrambled to his feet and helped you up.

“Nothing! We were just-”

“Does Namjoon know about this?” Jungkook asked.

“Know about what?”

“Oh, for shit’s sake!” Tae whipped around to face the leader and Hobi, who had just exited the elevator, trying to hide you behind his back, as if that was going to help anything at this point.

“What is with all the noise?” Yoongi opened his door, blinking tiredly at the sight of everyone standing in the hall for several long seconds before wordlessly closing the door again, deciding against involving himself in whatever scene was unfolding right now.

“What’s going on?” Joon asked, glancing around at his members, eyes widening slightly as he spotted you, wearing one of Tae’s t-shirts and wishing to dissolve into the wallpaper. “Y/n?-”

“Y/n’s my girlfriend.” Tae blurted out loudly, causing everyone’s attention to whip to him, including yours. ”We’re dating, but I haven’t told the company yet.”

There was another pause as that information sank in, before Junkook spoke again, breaking the silence.

“Way to go, hyung.” He grinned at you and Tae.

“Yeah, good for you guys.” Jimin agreed, shooting you both a thumbs up.

“You’re not mad?” Tae asked, glancing at everyone nervously.

“Why would we be mad? So long as you’re careful, It’s your life.” Hobi said encourangingly.

“Yeah, I mean, I would’ve rather not have found out by catching you two doing that-” Jin said.

“We weren’t doing anything!” Tae exclaimed.

“Tell that to the hickey on you neck.” Jimin chirpped, dissolving into giggles as Tae clapped a hand to his neck in alarm.

“Okay, um, we can talk about this later, can everyone just please go back to your rooms before one of the staff shows up?” Joon said quickly, herding the two younger members back into their room.

“Be safe, you two!” Jungkook called, closing the door before Tae could snap back at him.

“Thank you, hyung.” Tae said to Namjoon.

“Don’t worry about it, man, we’ll talk later.” Joon replied, patting Tae on the shoulder before nodding to you. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” You said, catching Tae’s hand before making your way back to his room.

“Oh, hyung?” Tae leaned back out into the hall to address Jin. “What was it you came to ask me?”

The eldest member blinked for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t even remember.”

Tae nodded. “Alright then, goodnight.” He closed the door firmly, making sure both locks were engaged before slumping against it with a groan.

“Well, that’s not how I planned for that to go.” He said, rubbing his face tiredly.

“What? Telling you bandmates about us, or asking me to be your girlfriend?” You asked, leaning against the dresser as you studied him.

“Both.” He admitted, looking at you apologetically. “I am so, so sorry.”

You shrugged. “At least it was just them and not your manager.”

He nodded before slowly straightening and coming to stand in front of you. “Will you let me fix one of my missteps from tonight?”

“Depends which one it is.” You said, smirking up at him.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asked you, staring down at you solomly.

“Hmm.” You pretended to mull it over. “I guess.”

“You guess?!” He balked, making you laugh.

“Yes, you goof, I will.” You relented, wraping your arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss.

“Good, I don’t think my heart could take any more surprises tonight.” He mumbled against your mouth.

“Plus, the guys would be upset.”

“The guys?” He raised a brow at you before hoisting you up and dropping you on the bed. “I don’t want to hear about ‘the guys’ again for the rest of the night.” He grumbled, climbing to hover over you.

“Are you possesive now?” You asked, grinning up at him.

“You’re gonna find out.”

[runnning-outof-time]

Cia!! Thanks so much for sending this my way! I always appreciate your lovely GIFts 😉😉 I’m sorry this one took a bit…I struggled with figuring out a plot for it. This could be read with the couple from my series Birmimgham, but there’s nothing specific that locks it down to them…so it’s a regular Tommy x Reader as well! (I just wanted to write a little something more with those two) I hope you enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Not How I Wanted It To Go

Tommy Shelby

Warnings: language

Tommy’s initial plan of calling the men into the kitchen gets thwarted when the someone, who’s not supposed to be present, walks in.

“Right, boys, you’re all here,” Tommy started as he took one last drag from his cigarette before removing it from between his lips and stamping it out in one of the bowls on the kitchen counter.

“Shoulda had a fuckin’ map done up,” Arthur commented on the vastness of the house that his younger brother now owned as he and the other men filed into the space.

“Party’s still goin’ on out there, Tom…why’ve you got us in here?” Johnny Dogs questioned while eyeing up one of the trays that the cook staff was busy preparing.

“I wanted to let you all know before I go and do it…” Tommy trailed off, taking a deep breath as he rested his hands on his hips, “I’m going to propose to (Y/N),” he announced his plan, making the room burst into cheers and hollers.

“Fucking finally!” John exclaimed, a wide grin on his face.

“It took ya long enough!” Arthur added, getting in on the teasing, walking over to clap Tommy on the back.

“Is this why we’re all packed into this crowded house?” Uncle Charlie asked, his brows raising.

“Fuck you callin’ crowded, Charlie? This place is bigger than all of our houses on the lane combined and then rebuilt two times over,” John jumped in before Tommy could respond, refuting the older man’s statement, “and let’s not get started on the fuckin’ stables…can fit half of the King’s horses in…”

“Oi, John!” Tommy cut his brother off, sending a warning glare in his direction, “enough,” was all he had to say before John fell back into line. Tommy huffed at the tangent they’d just been taken on before responding to the original question, “it’s one of the reasons, yeah.”

He and (Y/N) were hosting a party at their new estate; a housewarming celebration. (Y/N) had wanted to have it so that she could finally invite all of their friends and family over. Tommy thought that it was a good place to finally propose to her.

“So you’re gonna do it then, Tommy?” Jeremiah was the one to bring the group back to the original topic of discussion.

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded his head in a definitive manner.

“When, brother?” Arthur wanted to know the details.

“Today,” Tommy’s voice still held confidence. Surprised expressions formed on the faces of the men in the room. Tommy looked around once before he continued talking, “I’m going to do it today and I pulled you all in here to let you know where you fit into it…” he paused, looking around the room once again, “it’s going to happen later, which means you fuckers can’t do anything that will embarrass her or make her upset…”

“This is (Y/N) we’re talkin’ ‘bout here, Tom,” John interjected with a grin on his face.

His words made Tommy zero in on him, “anything,” he repeated, his eyebrows raised to show the seriousness in the situation, unhappy that John was still joking. He looked around the room to see the men watching him intently. He ran a hand over his face before continuing, “no taking bets, no stealing stuff, no sizing up her extended family…”

“What if they come at us?” Isiah cut into Tommy’s speech this time, looking to the right then so that he could send Michael a grin. Those two had gotten into enough fights together.

“What?” Tommy spun to look at him, his brows now furrowed in confusion. He was slowly but surely slipping to the end of his rope with the questions and interruptions.

“What if they start the fight?” Isiah asked his question with slightly different wording.

“You step away. We’re not fighting tonight…do you understand me? No fighting…” he paused as he moved over to the line of men, moving down and pointing at each one of them as he repeated his statement, “no fighting, no fighting, no fighting…” he paused again, moving to the middle so that he could look at the entire group again, “no. Fucking. Fighting!” he barked his order, the frustration slipping through in his words. Isiah’s question had been the one to set it off. Silence fell in the room after his outburst, and he took a few deep, steadying breaths as he looked at the men again, “are there any other questions?” he dared to them to continue, knowing that the next person who tried to would most likely get their head chewed off.

“Let us see the ring then, Tom,” Arthur’s words came out as a statement rather than a question, and it served to cut the tension.

Tommy huffed out a sigh then, rooting in his trousers’ pockets to retrieve the box as the men all began chattering again; this time about catching a glimpse of the ring he was going to give (Y/N). He opened the box as soon as he pulled it out, showing the men that had gathered around him.

“She’s gonna love it, brother,” Arthur commented, patting him on the back as he smiled proudly, “the last of the Shelby men to get married…besides Finn over there,” he said then, nodding his head at their youngest sibling.

“Though Finn might have married (Y/N) if you didn’t get around to it,” John added with a grin, his words making the boy they were talking about blush profusely.

It wasn’t hard to tell that Finn had a bit of a crush on (Y/N)…he’d been starstruck by her from the time that she helped him with his maths those few years ago.

“So you’re doing it tonight then?”

“Yeah, later. I wanted to have it so that she’s not overwhelmed by everyone after it happens,” Tommy explained more of his plan, smiling as he looked down at the ring.

A voice came from the entrance to the kitchen before anything else could be said. “What’s going on in here, Tommy?”

Tommy looked up from the ring upon hearing it and his throat went dry as his eyes fell onto (Y/N). Shit. “Uh…what’re you doing here, love?” he asked, feeling his heart rate increase. The ring was still out in full view…there was no way she didn’t see it!

“I came looking for you. Some of my family were getting ready to leave and wanted to thank you for the invite…what are you all doing?” she asked, trying to look anywhere but at the box in his hands.

“Might as well do it now, brother,” Arthur mumbled behind Tommy as a tense silence hung in the air.

Tommy glanced to his side, seeing his brother nodding towards (Y/N). He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he decided to go forward with it. He took a few steps toward (Y/N) then, the jewelry box still clutched in his hands. “This is not how I wanted this to go, (Y/N)…” he started off, keeping his eyes locked onto her as her lips parted slightly in surprise, “I wanted to do it in a way that would make things more special; a way you deserved. I’ve never in my life loved someone as much as I love you, and there is no one I’d rather spend the rest of my days with…”

“Yes, Tommy,” (Y/N) breathed, beating him to the punch and making his brows furrow in response.

“I’ve not even gotten down on one knee, love,” he pointed out.

“I don’t need that. My answer’s yes,” she shook her head, a wide smile present on her face.

“(Y/N)…”

“Fuck the particulars, just put the ring on her finger!” John yelled from where the men were still gathered, his words cutting off Tommy’s hesitancy.

Tommy turned and shot a glare at his younger brother, who was wearing a shit-eating grin, before looking at (Y/N) once more. “Will you marry me, (Y/N)?” he asked her even though she’d already given her answer.

“Yes!” she nodded her head, reaching out to wrap her hand around the back of his neck so that she could pull him into a passionate kiss. Tommy took hold of her waist with the hand that wasn’t holding the ring, steadying himself as he kissed her back with equal passion.

A chorus of cheers broke out behind them as they broke away. Tommy took the ring from its holder and slid it onto her left hand, looking up at her with a big smile once it was sitting comfortably at the base. (Y/N) smiled back at him, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as the men moved in to begin congratulating them.

It may not have been the original, extravagent proposal that Tommy had been planning, but it was the perfect proposal for them.

———

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable

MASTERLIST

[hellodaydream1111111111111111]

The Zoldyck family and mercy, keep in mind all of this is canon and is not a theory.

Kalluto Zoldyck, dear god he’s gonna have one hell of a villain arc. Like just going by personality he’s violent as hell not even because he’s an assassin he just enjoys killing and like ripping people to shreds with his nen.

Illumi has done far worse but he doesn’t objectively enjoy killing people, Kalluto on the other hand says and I quote “Nasty habit, I really need to stop toying with my prey.” After he shreds a Chimera ant and the frame shows the prey in question torn to shreds, for HxH it’s actually one of the more gory scenes and it’s courtesy of an 11 year old child. Now you may say that it’s just an ant however Kalluto says it’s a habit and recognizes that it’s bad but he can’t help himself. Illumi allows his targets one last wish and opts to kill them quickly with a needle to the head however Kalluto cuts all their limbs off before killing them and then continues cutting up the corpse. This is the nature of his nen paper storm where he blows confetti around with a fan, it gets stuck in his prey and then with a slash of his fan can cut through something as string as steel like butter. Combined with the fact Kalluto is still very childish (ya know cuz he’s a child) he doesn’t weigh the pros and cons of just murdering someone because he feels like it, he’ll just do it. He was more raised by his mother and we usually see them together so that begs the question what is or rather how gruesome Kikyo’s nen?

As we know Silva and Zeno only kill for money and they don’t take pleasure in it.

Kikyo shows no mercy, she is a violent person who has outbursts even towards her children.

Illumi follows his father though, he’s a little looser with it allowing himself to enjoy killing and fighting strong opponents.

Milluki doesn’t do assassinations anymore as he prefers not to leave the house but he has a short fuse and probably still enjoys metaphorically ripper someone to shreds.

Killua doesn’t take pleasure in killing people but if it’s to someone threatening to hurt him or his friends he doesn’t feel bad.

Alluka would feel bad about killing someone but she hasn’t because other than Nanika she’s a regular child.

Kalluto takes after his mother but seems to be more gruesome, he takes pleasure in harming other it’s an itch that he can’t help but scratch.

Now onto the theory part of this, it’s not really a theory more of an educated guess.

Once Silva learned of the way Kalluto kills he was appalled and Kikyo isn’t able to train him unsupervised anymore. Silva has asked Illumi to help fix this behavior because he sees it as unnecessary.

[stardewstardropthoughts]

How the bachelorettes are when you go down on them for the first time, mdni pls

Bear with me here lol I may be a lady but I ain’t got much experience in that department only content warning is my probably not great writing

Haley

She’s definitely not a virgin for sure

Shes probably had a handful of past partners, so she knows what she likes and isn’t afraid to direct you

She’s not fully waxed but I definitely think she keeps hair to a minimum down there

Will definitely be open to riding your face if you want her to

She likes a combination of clit and inner stimulation so don’t be afraid to use fingers

She’s loud, does not care if anyone hears her moaning

She definitely wears lingerie, like a cute pink lace set

When she cums she might accidentally trap your head with her thighs but that’s fine

She will return the favour, just give her a few moments and a bottle of water first

Emily

Personally I think she’s asexual but for those who don’t headcanon her as such here ya go

Probably not the most experienced but knows what she likes since she’s definitely explored herself

She doesn’t shave but who doesn’t love a little bush diving adventure

Her thighs are sensitive so place little kisses and gentle bites on them as you work your way up

Clot stimulation is her go to but she wouldn’t say no to fingering as well

Very easily overstimulated

She would be embarrassed with how quickly she cums if she wasn’t on cloud nine right after

Will return the favour, she wants to start off by giving you a whole body massage and working her way down

Abigale

I think she’s probably only had one previous partner

It was probably Sam on some night after the saloon when they got high and decided to lose they’re virginity together

She’s trimmed but not fully bare

She’ll direct you how she likes, what speed to move your fingers and tongue, what motion feels best for her

Leave hickeys on her hips and thighs she loves seeing the dark purple marks after words

She keeps pretty quiet aside from light moans and little gasps

Definitely has her hands in your hair

Grinds on your face as you go

If you get the motion and the pressure just right she might squirt

She’ll return the favour and then you’ll both shower together and play some video games with some snacks

Maru

Virgin

I can’t see her having much time for partners previously

Especially with all the extra courses and extracurricular activities she did

You learn together on what feels best and how to get her to cum

She’s decently loud in bed so y’all have to keep the activities to the farm so her dad doesn’t interrupt

She’s probably got a bit more hair then abigale but not full bush

Wants to return the favour after but definitely needs guidance

Penny

Another virgin

When would she have had time to lose it really

She hardly has time or space to masturbate

You and her figure it out together

She’s probably got a full bush just for lack of time to trim but her hygiene is still impeccable

She likes to hold hands when you go down on her

She doesn’t last very long at all

Probably fairly high pitched moans and whimpers

Likes to be praised

Will return the favour after

Pls give her snacks and water after, she won’t outright ask for them so just gather them and bring them to her

Leah

She’s got experience

Look at her I love her I just know she fucks

Who doesn’t want a big strong wood artist girlfriend

Keeps her hair trimmed and probably honestly trims a shape now and then like some people do for fun

She knows what she likes and she likes to be in control

Will ride your face if your okay with it

She moans decently loud

Loves when you pump your fingers in a come hither motion while sucking her clit

Cums hard

If your listening closely you can hear little whimpers as she cums

Definitely grabs your hair while she rides your face

More then willing to return the favour, will have you begging by the end of the night

Y’all will need a cold shower and snacks after, maybe a blanket and movie as well

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ok but now I need more Joel and reader neighbour domestics??? Like him leaving her a post it note with his internet password and him helping her feed the cats and she helps him with his plants and setting up the damn skeleton and then throwing neighbourhood barbecues together 🥺🥺🥺

okay so i literally couldn't rest until i wrote these up so if my assignments are work are late, i'm blaming you.

title: in a feud with her neighbor - bonus scenes

read the main work here

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: PG-13 (mild language)

word count: 1084

summary:

Fluffy bonus scenes for "in a feud with her neighbor" as suggested by anon!

Content warnings/tags: not a standalone work, pre-outbreak, no sarah, established relationship, still pretending the 12 ft skeleton existed in 2003, joel gets his butt grabbed by a neighbor. This is pretty much just fluff.

“The internet is out again,” you whine. You’re in your bed with Joel, the man turned on his side facing away from you. He looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowed.

“Good. Go to sleep,” he grumbles before burying his face back into the pillow that is now his pillow. It always smells like ocean salt and eucalyptus, while your own pillow smells like lavender and vanilla.

The sheets, however, are a beautiful combination of both.

You huff but reach over to your nightstand and turn off the lamp. You scooch in closer to him, snuggling up to his back and spooning him. You let his deep breaths lull you to sleep.

The next morning, Joel’s already left for work in the early hours of the morning, a kiss pressed to your sleep warm skin as a goodbye. When you shuffle into the bathroom to get ready, there’s a pink Post-It with familiar messy handwriting stuck to the mirror.

GetYourOwnPassword03

-Joel

________

There’s a package on your porch when you get home from work. You tear into it immediately, pulling out the new planters you bought as a surprise for Joel.

They were an Etsy find, a set of three white planters that say “WHAT THE FUCCULENT”, “LOOKIN’ SHARP”, and “DON’T BE A PRICK” and a bigger planter that reads “PLANT DADDY”. You giggle as you line them up on the counter.

Joel sees them when he comes over that evening, freshly showered and already wearing his pajama pants and your favorite threadbare shirt. He can barely stop laughing long enough to thank you.

“PLANT DADDY” sits in a place of pride by his front door, glued down to the concrete so that the cats can’t knock it over.

________

Joel is a grill master. He will spend a ridiculous amount of time at the deli, scrutinizing every package of beef while you hang onto the cart and wither away like a suffering Victorian woman. 

“Joel, please, I’m begging you,” you say, “just pick the steaks.”

“Hush, sweetheart, I have a process,” he replies, not once looking away from the two packages of New York strip he holds. 

“Just get both!” You beg. “Lots of steak! Great compromise!”

He glares at you. “We have to make a good impression.”

“A good impression on who? They’re our neighbors. They already like us! Half the moms in the neighborhood want to fuck you!”

Joel nearly drops the steaks. “They what?!”

You can’t breathe because you’re laughing so hard at the shocked look on Joel’s face. He sets both packages of steak in the cart before grabbing the handle from you and leaving you in tears in the deli.

Later that night, Joel finds you in the crowd and grabs your arm.

“I think Mrs. Matthews grabbed my ass,” he says. 

You pull him close, slipping a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and giving him a peck on his lips.

“Told ya,” you tease.

________

Joel watches the Home Depot website like a hawk as soon as September hits. His buddy who works at the store said that online orders would open within the first couple of weeks. Finally, the button turns from gray to orange, and he places his order immediately.

When it’s delivered a few weeks later, you’re so excited that you ask Joel to set it up immediately.

“It’s not even October yet, baby. Can you wait another week?” He asks. You pout, but you agree. Only if he’ll set up both skeletons on the first day of October and not wait until the last minute like he did the year before.

Which is how he finds himself teetering on the top rung of his ladder, trying to set the skull on the frame while you watch from the ground. When he finally gets it screwed on, he’s slick with sweat and cursing up a storm.

“How’s that look?” He asks when he gets down from the ladder and stands beside you.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tugging him into a kiss. 

“It’s perfect.”

________

Joel walks into your house one day, plastic bags hanging from his arms. The clinking of metal against metal announces his arrival.

“Joel? Whatcha got there?” You ask, drying your hands on the dish towel hanging from the stove, one that says “JUST ROLL WITH IT” with an image of a rolling pin beneath it. 

He sets the bags on the counter. “Cat food.”

You blink at him. “Cat food? You bought cat food?”

“Yeah, you mentioned you were running low. Besides, there’s a new calico out there so you gotta start puttin’ out more. Where’s the bowls?” 

He moves around the kitchen with practiced ease, grabbing a spoon and the set of plastic bowls you reserve for the neighborhood cats. It hits you at that moment.

You love Joel Miller.

Your smile is huge when he turns to look at you and he freezes like a deer caught in the headlights. You close the gap between you, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him close.

“I love you,” you murmur into his chest. His arms wrap around your shoulders and you feel the press of his lips to your head.

“I love you, too.”

________

BONUS BETTY CONTENT

Joel wakes early the next morning after his first night with you, your naked body still curled in his. He smiles down at you before gently pulling himself from your grasp, stifling his laugh at how you pout in your sleep before rolling over, snuggling into your pillow. He finds the stack of familiar pink Post-Its on your nightstand, scribbling out a note that he’s gone to pick up breakfast and coffee and would be back soon.

He puts on his now dry swim trunks and leaves the house, shutting the door quietly behind him. The neighborhood is still asleep, the sun barely cresting the horizon as he leaves your porch.

“Leavin’ so soon, Mr. Miller?” Betty’s raspy voice calls. He freezes, feeling like a teen caught sneaking out of his house. 

“Good mornin’, Betty,” he says, turning slowly to face her. She’s got a knowing smirk on her face.

“What was it I said about the two of you hittin’ it off?” She asks, tapping a finger to her lips. Joel can feel his cheeks heat. 

“You were right,” Joel admits. 

“I know, dear. I always am. Now, could you bring me back a doughnut while you’re out? Double chocolate. With sprinkles.”

“Yes, m’am.”

[azulera]

Sweet Like Açai

Pairing: TAA x Black Reader

Summary: He’s still raw from a rough break-up, his club is trudging through a mid-season slump, and somehow Trent still develops a fat crush on the server at Merseyside’s newest smoothie place.

Notes: this will be my last story for a while, but it is a longer one, and who doesn't love wingman curtis and flustered shy trentski 😃 here is chapter 1, but all other chaps will be posted on ao3. pls enjoy and do tell me what you think!

—————————————————————————

The new café that Curtis suggests is only a 15-minute drive from AXA, so after their last meetings and quick showers they take off in his Range Rover and make it there in ten. The owner, he says, is a friend of the Jones family, a former footballer who took the constant chiding of his nutritionists to heart and built a second career from it, and Curtis promises Trent that it’s the best combination of chilled fruit, yogurt, granola and whatever other superfood magic that he’s ever tasted.

But it’s not that Trent needs the backstory that his teammate gives or really much convincing at all - after training his stomach feels as big and empty as a house, and, even still, he figures he deserves it. The past months have been less than kind to him, and closer to brutal: the team’s performance has continued to nosedive in what by Liverpool standards was already an aggressively average season, and he’s still deciding if he’s moved on from the mutual but still painful breakup with his long-term girlfriend two months ago. “Self-care” is a foreign thing he’s been trying to practice at the insistence of his mum and Hendo, since they claim it’s okay to let himself have nice things, to not always push harder when the going is already tough.

A quick, sugary pick-me-up can’t possibly do too much more damage.

A little bell chimes as they step in the door and the air that greets them is pleasantly cool, and sweet. Dark purples and greens blend with browns and oranges on the walls in a swirling pattern, and rustic wood tables with high stools are arranged in rows from one side of the space to the other. There’s a couple sat together at a spot near the window, twin purple cups in front of them, and a single, serious-looking man on a laptop near the back, but the line to order and the self-serve kiosks are both empty. Curtis walks up to the counter, as in any room, like he lives there, and has been there a million times.

“The açai one’s gonna blow your mind, lad, I swear to ya. Plus, the place is Black-owned and that, supportin the community.”

Trent laughs once before settling his hands in the pockets of his sweats and looking up to the menu. There are too many options, really, but at the moment his stomach is non-discriminating.

“Yeah, it better. Won’t shut up about it, you. What’s good- the bowl or smoothie?”

“Hold on – Y/N? Is that you?”

Trent’s question goes unanswered, and smothered by the sound of Curtis’ yell. His voice lifts across the space, shouting the unfamiliar name another time, and again Trent is astounded by just how loud his teammate’s voice can be. That level of volume is helpful on the pitch but embarrassing in public, and Trent feels the eyes of at least one of the patrons on them.

“Curtis? Curtis Jones? Oh my days, one second–”

The ceramic counter holding the ingredients curves around into a small kitchen entrance on the left, and from where he’s standing, Trent can’t see what, or whoever it is that Curtis sees. But the mutual excitement in the voices can’t be missed.

“No way! Get over here!”

Curtis shouts, bouncing on his toes. A moment later, a blur of movement in the shape of a girl flies in from the kitchen, and has Curtis pulled into a tight hug. His teammate reciprocates, and Trent can see his shoulder muscles working to tighten the squeeze, even with the width of counter between them.

“Long time no see, Curt. Was starting to think you were something we dreamed up, only ever see you on the telly.”

Trent can soon confirm the voice does belong to a girl, and on the first glance he gets of her face it is slightly squished against Curtis’ shoulder, but painted in a look of open, undisguised surprise and happiness. It’s the kind of strong emotion he would only ever show on the pitch, almost never in a public place like this, and it almost feels like too much to witness such vulnerability from someone he doesn’t yet know, and who’s heartfelt reunion he seems to be third-wheeling on. He would look away, but his eyes betray him and zoom in, already busy taking inventory without consulting him first.

They start at her skin, which is glowy and smooth, and the same color he likes his tea, on the off day where he does drink a cup. He thinks it’s probably poor to compare a woman to a beverage, in fact, he knows it is, but blames it on his grumbling stomach and moves on. His gaze locks next on her lips, because she and Curtis are speaking again, loudly.

“Could say the same to you, can’t I, been ages since I’ve seen ya! And I’m loving the hair.”

“Yeah, wanted to try something different. It’s been a few years since I’m growing them.”

Her hair, Trent notices when he pulls his eyes from her face, is in locs like his, but lighter brown with amber highlights strewn throughout. They swing about her shoulders as she moves, so that she regularly has to push the strands back behind her ears, away from her face. The familiarity of the movement triggers a thing in his brain that yells “Me too!”, and his eyes travel the rest of her, suddenly hungry to find more things he recognizes. The first are her eyes, which are a warm, chocolatey brown, maybe two shades lighter than his own. The close second is that he finds her unpredictably, and undeniably attractive.

That feeling inside him that went dormant two months ago starts to fidget.

“How is everythin, though? Uni? And how’s the fam?” Curtis asks.

The two of them continue catching up with excitement that hasn’t yet worn off, and Trent stands to the side, trying not to intrude and trying not to be awkward. In a way he hopes is sly, he continues scrutinizing her features while intermittently looking at his shoes, up at the artsy menu board where the offerings are, impressively, engraved rather printed, and briefly at his phone.

He should, he supposes, listen politely to their conversation, try and contribute, but in truth he only checks back in after a loud burst of laughter. She's covering her mouth with one hand, and Curtis is straightening up from being almost doubled over.

“Whoo, I had nearly forgotten about that, you know! Your brother used to be absolutely mad. But hey, I was round here last week and didn’t see you. Are you workin here now?”

“Yeah, I am.” She pulls at the cafe emblem on the corner of her mauve t-shirt. “I’ll be working the front end of things while we’re still small. Only been at it a few days now, but Dad’s made sure I’m working hard.”

“I don’t doubt it, but you tell the big man he ought to hire some more staff, ‘cause me, I’ll be telling the whole city about this place. Dragged Trentski here as soon as I could, just to show him. Me first convert.”

The sound of his nickname evaporates whatever was left of his distraction, and he steps forward a little, as if finally being invited into the conversation. He looks up and finds she’s looking back at him.

“Alright?” She asks, smiling. “I’m Y/N.”

She waits for him to introduce himself even though if she’s a friend of Curtis and a footballer’s daughter, she surely knows who he is. Or does she? Either way, he decides he likes her for it.

“I’m Trent. Nice to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, too, Trent. Let me get Curt situated and then I’ll be right with you, yeah?” She smiles again, and it isn’t one of those plastic, forced customer service smiles, but one that lasts, like she means it. The light from it floods her eyes, and makes them even shinier, independent of the artificial lighting buzzing above them. In it’s glow, his chest does that stupid thing where it feels filled up with too much air.

He watches as she moves down the line and makes his teammate’s bowl with laser focus, trying to guess if what he’s sensing is just politeness, if her smile lasts as long every time. When the flash of white does appear behind her lips again, and twice more before she calculates Curtis’ total at the register, he gets too distracted by it to count the seconds.

“What would you like?” Too quickly she’s in front of him again, hands poised around a brown paper bowl.

“Em, yeah,” He clears his throat. “A bowl, please. Not a smoothie. The açai one?”

“Good choice.” She nods, while scooping portions of the purple fruit-yogurt mix into the container. “Any special add-ins for you today? Plant protein, energy, antioxidants?”

The health-food buzzwords set off signals in his head, and he gives the answer that would make his nutritionist proud.

“Need all of it, honestly.”

She laughs again, but it feels different this time, since he’s the one who made it happen, not Curtis.

“Good boy. Bet your nutritionist loves you. Which fruits?”

Trent freezes a second, affected in equal amounts by the “good boy” and the feeling that she’d read his mind. She pushes the right side of her locs back behind her ear in the silence.

“What about banana? It goes really well with the açai.” She offers.

“Yeah, banana’s good.”

She nods again and uses metal tongs to arrange the pale yellow pieces artfully over the yogurt. He goes on, choosing available fruits from the names listed on the clear glass shield, and trying not to stumble, again. The bowl gradually fills up, and it’s a smooth exchange – it’s much easier to do this, to talk and focus, he realizes, when her face is turned down – until they reach the last two options.

“Pineapple?”

“Em, nah, no pineapple, it-” The next bit of information he adds not because it’s particularly important, but because their interaction is almost over, and he doesn’t want it to be. “-makes me tongue feel—”

“All tingly? Yeah, that’s a thing!”

Her eyes light up as she exclaims and to Trent it seems her face sudddenly changes over — there’s more color in her cheeks, and vibration in her voice. But maybe he’s imagining it. She flits the tongs through the air as she continues.

“There’s an enzyme in pineapple, bromelain, that breaks down proteins, and you’ve got a bunch of those on your tongue and cheeks. It’s what makes it so acidic, and makes it burn a little to eat, but it’s interesting, cause, bromelain is also really good for you? Helps treat inflammation, and indigestion-“

“Not now, Y/N, just give the lad his food! If he wanted a lecture he would have gone uni with you.” Curtis teases from near the register, looking up from where he’d been on his phone, waiting. She graces him with a beautiful and dramatic roll of her eyes, but when she turns back to Trent they’re sincerely apologetic.

“I get a little carried away with the nutrition thing, forgive me. It’s nice to have Curt here, though, to keep me humble. Coconut?”

Trent wants to say, “No, it’s okay, I don’t mind it” but all he manages is a kind smile. He could care less now if she adds the shredded bits of white to his order or not, but he wants her to keep looking at him, for the excited glow on her face from when she’d mentioned food science to return.

“Em, yeah. Thank you.”

Minutes later, their bowls are bagged and paid for and they’re heading towards the door, fond words of parting on all their lips.

“You all come back, okay?” Y/N probes, pulling out from another Curtis, cross-counter hug. “And I’ll tell me brother and Dad you came in, Curt, they’ll be buzzin.”

“Oh for sure, I’ll send him a text as well. It’s been so nice seeing ya.”

“Same. And hope to see you again, too, Trent. Not just on the telly.” She waves at him, more a wiggle of her fingers, and it should look silly but somehow it isn’t. He wiggles his own back, and hopes it works for him too.

In the car, they dig in, setting aside the plastic lids unceremoniously on the dash. Curtis is obnoxious about the cleanliness and quality of many things, his clothes, trainers, and phone screen, but strangely his car isn’t one of them.

The bowl Trent ordered turns out to be far better than average. The yogurt is perfectly tart and tangy, the fruit crisp and juicy and the açai deliciously purple. He still hasn’t got the girl from the counter, Y/N, out of his head.

He’s four bites in when he finally asks the question bumping around his brain the past five minutes.

“How’d you know her again?”

“Who? Y/N? Her brother’s me mate. She was a year older, but we all grew up together in Toxteth. Why?”

“No reason.”

“Do you fancy her?”

“No-what lad?” Trent screws his face his up, unsure how indignant he truly is, and though he saw the question coming. Curtis only shrugs.

“I said, do you fancy her? I saw your face while yous was talkin, and you almost never ask after girls. Just pull with your mind games or telepathy or whatever it is you do.”

Trent gets a mouthful of coconut to formulate his answer, and the taste makes his stomach feel funny. He remembers why he doesn’t usually go for it.

“No, I mean, I think she’s good-lookin, yeah, but I don’t fancy her. Don’t even know her.”

“S’not hard to change that- I could put in a word for ya. Know she’s real busy, real serious about school and that, but you’re you, innit. Trent Alexander-Arnold. Be mad not to go for it.”

Trent lets the drama of Curtis’ compliment slide off him with a shake of his head. But the “you’re you” sticks; it’s what he’s been telling himself the two month’s he’s been girlfriend-less and on a season high not-winning streak, sitting middle of the table with indications to fall. He’ll keep on repeating it, or hearing it repeated to him, until it feels true again.

“You don’t feel weird about that? Since she’s your mate and all?”

“Why would I? You’re both sound people, better than sound. And if chattin to her gets rid of that kicked-dog look you’ve been wearin the past month, brother, I’ll plan the weddin.”

“I haven’t been— there won’t be-“ Trent splutters, before resigning to the chaos that is his closest teammate and friend. “I’ll keep the offer in mind, lad. But let me finish me smoothie bowl first, yeah? Let’s start there.”

“Okay, okay. You’ll remember I told you so.”

Trent keeps eating, lets Curtis switch the subject, and it's not until he’s home, scrolling the lists of Liverpool-based Instagram profiles containing the name “Y/N”, that he questions just what would be the subject of his friend’s “I told you so” — Y/N or the smoothie. He decides to treat him to another one tomorrow to find out.

[zayray030]

Anon 🍓

I had a thought. So Scar(one of the great seven) let’s just say made a bet with another king or something and now his future descendant is engaged to the other king’s descendant.

So then years later when Leona is 18 he’s attending a family gathering(which he is not happy about) when suddenly Scars spirit appears and is like “Sooo uh I lost a bet and now you’re kinda engaged” and Leona’s like “Who me?” And Scar responds with “Yes you bitch”

Now I’m sure you can figure out who he’s engaged to based on my other asks but I’m just gonna say it.

It’s our favorite Ace Trappola!

Ace is the prince of a forgotten but powerful kingdom and is heir to the throne (looks like Leona does get to be king)

Now the thing is no one is supposed to know about the engagement or that Ace is a prince until he is 18(The kingdom has a thing where prince’s/princesses aren’t allowed to show their faces until their 18. So when their face is uncovered they’re able to go places without being targeted)

So when Ace finally gets NRC him and Leona aren’t allowed to reveal their relationship so it’s a lot of sneaking around to see each other. Sure it’s easier to see each other after book 2 but still they can’t hang out to much

This is annoying for the both of them not only because they can’t spend time together but because people won’t stop flirting with them.

Every time someone flirts with Ace Leona is in the background staring at the person like “get the fuck away from my fiancé” but he can’t say anything.

And when someone flirts with Leona Ace stares at them like “I am going to gut you from the inside out” but again he can’t say anything

They are definitely gonna blow their cover at some point maybe during Playful land or Fairy Gala?

Also randomly Kalim and Ace are most likely besties.

Anyway that’s all I got, what do ya think?

This is even funnier when you think about the fact that this would be during Leona's second year of NRC and Ace would have already ghosted his girlfriend lmao. That combination is horrible and hilarious at the same time 😂😂😂

I feel like Leona is simply now in the mood to deal with someone else's mistakes, especially with Ace being so young and bratty and Ace refuses to date an old man. But then a noble or someone starts getting really annoying so they decide to get with each other out of spite and then end up falling in love

I can imagine their being instances where the secret is almost revealed.

Like, chapter 1, Leona wants to kill Riddle for almost killing his fiancée

Chapter 2, Ace feels betrayed about what Leona's doing

Chapter 3, Azul traps Ace in the contract and there's miscommunication about Ace not wanting to go to Leona for help and Leona hinting at it by bringing up Ace as the reason why he's destroying the contracts

Chapter 4, those two actually sit down and talk PROPERLY about what's been going on and they actually properly cement their relationship properly instead of that wishy washy no emotions crap

I feel like maybe tsum tsum, fair gala or even playful Land are perfect for select people to find out lmao

Like maybe Leona's tsum constantly keeps cuddling and kissing Ace and the same goes with Ace's tsum and Leona

Fairy Gala Leona keeps complimenting Ace teasingly and everyone slowly works it out and vise versa

And playful Land is just Leona holding Ace reassuringly that everything is going to be fine

All I know is that when it does get revealed Ace dials the shamelessness up by 100000

He will randomly go up leona, whether or not he's talking to another third year or club member is irrelevant to him, and pout at him to give him his card so he can go shopping

@lummyzzz has written a leoace fic called Lioheart with secretly engaged Leona and Ace so you should go check that out!

[uchu-no-bashira]

The Cookout - Gyomei Head!Canon w/OC!Kiana

Authors note: This was a very self-indulgent Head canon that got waaay too long and was too much fun for me. The scenarios could have gone on and on, but I had to stop eventually lmfao. Enjoy, or don't. i know I did! LMFAO. Head Canon beneath the cut.

When they got married, Gyomei had no idea how different his life would be. That isn’t to say that it was in a negative way, but it was definitely something that he wasn’t used to. Needless to say, he was apprehensive about the four day stay at Kiana’s family home; they wanted to celebrate, with a cook-out, of course.

“Is… He crying?” Kiana’s sister would ask when he’s introduced, his prayer beads tightened in one hand while Kiana grips his other hand.

“He is! He’s tearful and sensitive in the best way.” She says, the smile on her face was so large that Gyomei could see it. But something about that grip on his hand, and the happiness in her words, made meeting her family a little more comforting.

Gyomei’s heart crumbles to bits when he feels a firm hand palm his bicep - he could tell from the imperishable grip that it had to be the hand of a father, or at least a very protective older brother.

He wasn’t expecting his height to be so cherished, loved, and made fun of all at the same time. It was a strange experience.

“Damn, Gyomei!"

He's startled when he bumps into a smaller body while walking through the door.

"You know ya ass can’t fit through the door with me!” Kiana’s sibling would giggle before immediately turning to him with a hand on his forearm and stating, “Just playin’.”

Gyomei was absolutely shocked when he was greeted warmly by everyone in the house when he walked in. Normally, it’s a pretty casual thing to say “I’m back” and receive a “Welcome back.” But Kiana’s family was different…

“Tadaima… Ah.” He remembers that none of them speak Japanese, and tears up.

Okaerimas!!” Kiana would shout, causing a few glances from the family.

Imagine his surprise when they took an interest in his language because of that one interaction.

Gyomei wasn’t expecting to feel so welcomed by a group of people that didn’t share the same culture as him. Even more shocked when they all tried to learn things to accommodate him. It was very polite.

Gyomei’s favorite thing is family functions. Something about his Kiana and her family getting together brought him a sense of joy.

“Who this lil’ Asian boy?~” Kiana’s grandma would ask with a lifted brow.

“Nana, this is my husband and his name is Gyomei..” Kiana would respond - respectfully of course. She ain't wanna get slapped in the mouth. Gyomei could sense that this woman was the progenitor, and that title held much weight. Silence was his only option.

“Ooookayy!~ He cute! Tall too! Mhm, and strong! You hit the lottery with this one!! Back in my day he coulda been used to hoe an acre-long field!....” She continues, causing an apologetic Kiana to whisper ‘I’m so sorry, honey.’

Gyomei couldn’t forget the way he was brought to life by the scent of food alone in the mornings. He’d never smelled such a combination of things…

“What are those, love?” He’d ask curiously, mouth practically watering.

“I’ll feed it to you and let you figure it out~” Kiana would whisper - poorly.

“AWWWWWWWW!~”

Gyomei never knew that biscuits and gravy could go so well together, or fish and grits, or chicken and waffles, watermelon with salt or sugar. What a variety of odd combinations to make an amalgamation of wonderful flavors.

“You eat like this at home, Gyo?” Nana would ask, giving him his nth serving of whatever it was he was eating.

“Mm-mm.” He responds, steadily placing more food in his mouth with more grace than anyone else, struggling to keep his demeanor calm as he tries not to shovel food in his mouth like Kiana.

“Kiana! Start feedin’ that baby! He can’t live off scraps!” She scolds with her hands on her hips, brow furrowed and lips curled.

From that point on, every other Sunday, Gyomei would perk up - anticipating his return to a family that showed him hospitality on a level he thought comfortable and familial.

“It’s nice being invited to the cook-out, ain't it babe?

With a blush, Gyomei nods once. He understood that being invited to "The cookout" was more than just the bringing of good food. It was the integration of him into a family that wanted him there.

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 7: mammon / rain + hug

ao3 link

note: this takes place during chapter 14, after ik loses her hand but before she wakes up properly - i.e. during the same general period that lucifer's pov section in chapter 15 takes place in! since this slots right into that (and since ik doesn't remember this anyway) this could now be considered canon to jtta!

i combined two separate prompts - 'hug' and 'rain', with hand-loss scene being from the rain request, since i felt like they worked well together, i also did a bit of a play on the rain prompt - requesters, hope you don't mind!! ^^

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

It occurs to Mammon that he’s never held someone so small before. He doesn’t remember his brothers being little enough to gather in his arms so easily.

In the beginning, he’d imagined that humans couldn’t feel that different from demons or angels - after all, they’re pretty much the same thing, just in different sizes. And he’s had to pick IK up several times already, but this had been different.

Everything after stepping into the tomb is a blur. His memory only sharpens into focus after Diavolo intervenes. As the prince shouted himself hoarse, he’d looked up, and seen the three of them - big demon, little angel, scarily still human - huddled by the wall.

There had been Luke, barely disguising panicked tears, and Beel’s face had been set and pale. For a moment, it felt to him as if he were watching his brother cradle a corpse, with a mess of smoking wounds where its right hand should have been.

He sits now by Beel’s bed, where he insisted IK rest, and finds himself staring at the haphazardly wound bandages around that same wrist. He wrapped them himself, even though Solomon had told him they were unnecessary - perhaps more for himself than for IK, who isn’t conscious to appreciate the effort.

He’d been the one to carry her up from the tomb, too, insisting despite Beel’s assurances that he could do it himself. That’s the part that sticks with him even now.

It was frightening. IK, as he has learnt, should be lively. She’s a bundle of contradictions, of course - defiant in the face of monsters despite being afraid of loud corridors, bold and brave despite that instinctive polite nervousness - but, out of everything, she is never silent and still.

“Idiot,” He mumbles in the silence of the room. No one hears him - Solomon and Beel are both downstairs, and Levi’s stalked back off to his room.

“...mhh…”

His head snaps up. IK’s eyes are wide open.

The relief is tantamount to being dunked in ice after spending a year in the desert. He scrambles out of his seat, unable to bite back a grin. “Took y—”

Then he stops. Something isn’t right.

IK glances at him without moving her head. There’s something unsettling and robotic about the way she blinks.

“Good morning,” She says vaguely.

It goes without saying that the room is dark. He tries to play along, wondering if he should shout for help - did she hit her head? “Yeah, mornin’, sleepyhead. Finally up, huh?”

“Huh,” IK mimics, and this is where she’s supposed to laugh. She doesn’t. “Hey… what’s your name?”

He feels his heart sink. He tries not to let it show. “You forgot? Honestly. It’s Mammon, duh.”

“Mam-mon,” IK repeats, stumbling, as if the sound is foreign in her mouth. “Ma…mon.”

“That’s it. Good job.” He watches her face scrunch up in discomfort. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Hot,” She mumbles, and she sounds younger than he’s ever heard her. “Ow… ow!”

“Hey, hey—” He springs forward without thinking, using his hands as barriers so that she can’t suffocate herself on the pillow. “—shh, shh…”

Her cheeks feel red-hot against his palms. There’s something he’s supposed to do for that, right? He glances to the side, then remembers the basin and towel on the nightstand.

“Alright, kid—” He makes sure she’s listening. “—I need ya to stay still. Can ya do that for me?”

“Hurts,” IK mutters hoarsely, and he feels something damp trickle over his knuckles. “Mammon…”

“Shh,” He repeats, quieter. It’s strange how naturally it comes to him. “You’ll feel better soon, alright? Won’t be a second.”

He moves as quickly as he dares, dunking the towel in the cold water, then wringing it out again. He turns on the lamp while he’s by the table, and IK’s little tear-stained face is thrown into sharp relief. It just about breaks his heart.

“Deep breaths,” He says absently, and lays the towel across her forehead, like he’s seen Solomon do. “One, two, three…”

He watches the anguish melt from her face, but the relief only lasts a moment - because now she’s blank again, and it feels like she’s staring right through him. IK blinks once, twice. One last gathered tear slides down her face.

She reaches up - with her left hand - and touches her face. “...it’s raining.”

“Sure,” He agrees quietly. “It’s raining.”

It might as well be. The strange, static-y sound in his ears is just like any downpour he’s ever heard.

IK lifts her right hand and reaches for the ceiling - for those umbrellas the twins strung up for whatever reason, years and years ago. They’ve never been used the way they’re supposed to.

“I can’t reach,” IK mumbles. “I can’t… hold anything. I can’t feel my fingers. I don’t have…”

She stares at the white bandages around her wrist. Mammon suddenly wishes he’d done a neater job. From here, in the dim lamp-light, it looks like jagged bone; he can’t decide whether that’s better or worse than the web of dark scars beneath the clean gauze.

He can’t think of anything he could possibly say. Slowly, IK lowers her hand again.

“Did I make him angry?” She asks. She looks tiny. “Did I… did I do something bad?”

He shakes his head firmly. “No. No way. Lucifer was just being an idiot.”

IK’s eyes widen a little. “You can’t say that. He’ll hear you.”

“So what if he does? I can say whatever I damn well please,” Mammon mutters, thinking that he should’ve socked him properly while he had the opportunity.

IK is smiling at him now. It’s small, almost ghostly, but it relieves him all the same. “You’re cool.”

“Duh. Ya only just noticed?” He tries not to look too pleased. She seems more comfortable now, so he decides to remove the towel.

Her eyes are a little red at the corners. He gives them a dab, then chucks the towel back into the basin, and pats her face dry with his sleeve.

…feels like he’s playing house. Has he ever done something like this before? Even back then, he wasn’t exactly responsible enough to be playing nurse.

“Mammon,” IK says, voice small again, “Am I dying?”

“What?!” It comes out louder than he means it to. He quickly lowers his volume. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“I’ve seen this in movies,” She mumbles. “I feel like… I’m going somewhere. Somewhere really far away. Or maybe you’re going…?”

“I’m right here, kid. Nothing’s gettin’ rid of me.”

And he makes his next decision on a whim. He carefully tucks some of the blanket out of the way, slides his arm beneath IK’s shoulders, and pulls her into a hug that - conveniently - keeps him steadied enough on the mattress to still the trembling in his arms.

IK barely moves, remaining unnervingly still throughout it all, but she hums as if to say thank you. So he stays there until her eyes close again, and for a little while longer after that.

She’ll be alright - IK’s a strong kid. Any human who makes it in the Devildom has to be, but especially one capable of stepping in front of a seething Avatar of Pride, and insulting him to his face, according to Solomon’s account.

It confuses him a little. If he had a spirit like that, he’d be on top of the world, but IK carries herself more like an inconvenience than a presence.

Right now, that presence is small, warm, and alive. She’d been limp and still as he carried her up here, the chill of the tomb clinging to her clothes - small, stiff, each breath laboured, as if they might stop at any minute. It’d been like holding a puppet whose strings had broken.

He doesn’t know when he started caring so much - doesn’t know why he keeps this weird little human nestled in his arms - but it scares him. If something like this happens again, he just might die.

[pantpisser9000]

Combined together, Chapter 8: Pictures taken

It had been a calm day on the Octopod. They had already finished up the med-checks for the people in the area, so the rest of the day was just filled with… chilling, if anything. Kwazii and the Captain played ping-pong again, (and shockingly, Kwazii was actually able to beat him this time! Peso would’ve congratulated him, but he was still scared of him. Sure, when he was hurt it was a no-brainer, though at the moment? If he wasn’t in Peso’s care, he was still terrifying. (Peso was warming up to him, a bit, though,)) and Tweak was apparently working on a new device of sorts. Dashi was helping her. 

Shellington, the vegimals, and the Professor were cooking, (apparently the vegimals had dragged him out of his lab) and Peso had nothing to do. He had already finished his reports, so… Nothing. He was bored. He knew a person like Kwazii or maybe Shellington (though he for a different reason–research, of course) would take a GUP out and drive around. Peso was still terrified of even the thought of driving a GUP. 

He’d never even driven a car, so meomi forbid a submarine. Just the thought made a few feathers prick out of his ears and arms. Eventually, he walked out to the hq. The Captain had mentioned hot cocoa at one point, but they still didn’t have it. Apparently they’d be making a stop later for the vegimals to plant some cocoa plants and buy some powder from locals before they grew. 

Either way, he sat out there, looking at the calm water, some fish hybrids swimming by. They were elegant–practically mermaids–and it was enjoyable for a good while, before boredom poked its head in his business again. And, as if magic, Kwazii aprared. “Oy, Peso,” he said, and Peso whipped his head back. “Y-yes, Kwazii?” he asked, nervously. “I wanna go out on a ride, matey,” he said, pulling up a chair to sit laxly next to Peso.

Sweat beads cascaded down Peso’s forehead. “...I see.” he said, unsure of what that had to do with him. “You know you can’t-” Peso started, and Kwazii rolled his eyes, leaning back, “I know, I know, which is why,” he put his hands on the table, “I want ye to drive for me.” Kwazii said, flashing a toothy grin. 

“W-what?! But I’m a medic-” Peso started, but Kwazii shushed him, pointer finger to Peso’s lips. “Yeah, obviously, but.. Think about it. What if the person who be driving gets hurt? How’d you deal if ya couldn’t drive?” Kwazii questioned, shockingly in a way that made sense. He usually spoke with such pirate junk that it was hard to get what he was saying. “I.. suppose you have a point,” Peso admitted. The pirate cat grinned, dragging Peso down to the launch bay. “Tweak!” Kwazii called. She popped out from behind a wall. “Yeah?” she asked. “Me an’ Peso here are gonna go on a little driving lesson!” Kwazii said, and Peso shakily nodded. “What GUP?” she asked. “Uhh-” Kwazii thought, “The GUP B- wait, no, uh-” he thought for another moment. “W-which GUP would I likely be driving the most?” Peso asked. Tweak stepped out, “The GUP E. Wanna take that?” she asked, and Kwazii looked to Peso, then back to Tweak. “Aye, matey.” She popped a thumbs-up, and pressed a button. Peso heard some whirring, and he saw a giant door inside of the bay open, and the GUP E being whished out. 

It bobbed up at the surface, windshield retracting. Tweak motioned. “Thanks, matey!” Kwazii said, doing a flip as he jumped inside. Peso just made a little hop. Tweak looked at them expectantly. “Oh right– Tweak, open the Octohatch, matey!” Kwazii said, giving a thumbs up, and Tweak nodded, pulling the red lever. Kwazii closed the windowshield, and he looked at Peso. “O-oh, right,” Peso pulled on the steering wheel in the way that made it dip down, albeit very slowly. “Back up, and turn around,” Kwazii said, and Peso, (again very slowly) did so. Kwazii groaned. 

“Speed it up, matey!” he said, and he put his arms over Peso’s, guiding an embarrassed Peso’s arms around. The area around was pretty clear, fortunately. Well, except for a trench. It wasn’t a big one though–certainly not the Mariana. And, it was somewhat far away. Didn’t really stop Peso’s worries about it, though. Kwazii instructed next; “Come on, push more forward!” and Peso squeezed his eyes shut, and the GUP was going faster. 

Not as fast as it could, of course, and certainly not even close to as fast as the GUP B could go. “Faster!” Peso shook his head–he was sure he’d just about die if he went any faster. Though before he could properly protest, Kwazii pushed more on the wheel, and they were speeding ahead–directly towards a rock! “Pull to the left, matey!” Kwazii called, and Peso didn’t let himself freeze up, and he did it, jerking the steering wheel to the side, just narrowly avoiding the rock as they cruised past. Kwazii threw his arms up in the air, “Yeow! That was great, Peso!” he cheered. Peso just shook silently. The GUP had stilled, (Peso had let the wheel fall from his hands after that) and Kwazii put his hands on his hips. “I’d say that went well.” “I’m not so sure about that.” “Well, we didn’t crash.” “Please tell me that you’re not saying that not crashing is considered an accomplishment to you.” Kwazii shrugged. 

Peso sighed. As he looked out the window, the water looked a little darker than before, and the GUP was shaking a tad. “I didn’t know it got dark so quickly in this area,” Peso remarked, and Kwazii looked confused. “Whuh?” and he glanced out the window, lifting his eyepatch, (and Peso learned that there actually wasn’t an injury under there. Odd.) and he muttered, “Shiver me whiskers.” “What is it?” Peso asked. 

“We be in the midst of a storm.” Kwazii said, and he looked at Peso with a sort of worry. Peso guessed that since he had been (presumably, given the way he acted–it’d be insane if he wasn’t) a pirate for a long time, and probably knew the currents well enough or something. Not that Peso couldn’t tell–the GUP E was wobbling so much now both of them were having difficulty keeping their balance, and Peso saw fish hybrids being swept away in the strong currents at lightning speed. 

“W-what do we do?” because even though as much as he was (still–even if he was warming up to him) scared of Kwazii, he had a feeling he’d have a better idea of knowing what to do. “Aha–uhhhhh… oh!” he dashed over to the screen as Peso sat down at the back of the GUP, unsure of what to do, “Kwazii t’ Captain Barnacl- oh, it be no use.” Kwazii muttered, and just as he said that, the GUP lost any sort of stability it once had, and was now being carried away in a current, Kwazii grabbing onto the panel for dear life while Peso pressed himself against the back wall of the GUP E (technically the back wall of half of it, not the back-back wall as that’s where water could filter into, but you get the point).

The water around them churned, and it was a little tiny bit horrifying to Peso, and if it was to Kwazii, he wasn’t showing it. Peso sealed up his helmet, and Kwazii glanced back at him, mimicking it and the bubble-like helmet covered his head within an instant. Kwazii grabbed onto the wheel, and he tried to turn (presumably back to the Octopod) but he winced when his shoulder ached and he as flung back against the wall–there was nothing they could do, as they saw the GUP plummet to the ground, just near the trench. 

Fortunately, they weren’t dangling over the edge, just nestled in the sand near it, but it was still horrifying to the penguin hybrid. “Kwa-” he started, though the cat was gone. “KWAZII?!” he yelled and then he heard a scraping noise coming from behind, and he peered through the tiny window on the door of the GUP E, and “flappity flippers” he exclaimed, Kwazii was trudging along in the sand. Peso could practically hear the plink, plink, plink of the sand hitting his helmet, and he panicked–what was he doing? 

Peso gulped, and the GUP E slid back, closer to the edge. Was Kwazii just abandoning him for dead? And just when Peso thought he was nice! But, no, that.. It really didn’t seem like him, honestly. Though, maybe Peso’s original idea was right–he was just a thieving pirate who was out to get him or abandon everyone or steal or something. Or maybe he was just irrational because he was scared. Who knows. 

He heard the GUP E’s metal scraping against the seafloor, and he panicked, he tried the radio again–static. The GUP was settled (kinda) in the sand, or at the very least it wasn’t as wobbly as before, so he could stand up, but he tripped and his hand pressed against the big orange button–the Octo-alert. Of course, it couldn’t connect to the Octopod, so it just rang in his ears while the sound played in the GUP E. And, he felt the GUP slowly move in the other direction, and he, confused given how the currents were definitely going in the other direction before, (and he didn’t think currents like that changed on the fly–especially not in the midst of the storm like at the moment) and he looked through the window, and…

It was Kwazii! He had tied kelp or seaweed or something around the GUP, and was trying to pull it. Peso felt bad for doubting him. He was clearly struggling, though. Peso gulped. He wasn’t strong, but maybe he could help, somehow. His helmet was still up. He attached his medical bag to the hem of his pants, and he jumped into the harsh water. His boots planted into the sand, and the currents were pushing him hard, and he was so scared that he was going to be swept away right into the trench. 

He practically crawled over, and he stood up, wobbling, and he grabbed onto the kelp, and Kwazii flashed him a sharp grin, and Peso returned with a utterly terrified but confident one. They pulled, and pulled, and Peso knew they weren’t too far away from the Octopod, but it felt like it was taking hours. The sand pelting against their bodies, the current trying to sweep them off their feet–it was a lot to deal with. 

They trudged through the ruckus, and they made it far, (or at least Peso hoped they made it far) but Peso’s arms were getting tired, and he was certain that Kwazii was the same. Suddenly, he heard a snippet of Kwazii’s voice through the murky water, “m–atey-” he heard, “th–re be —- trac—g on th’ GUP-” was all that Peso could make out. He presumed Kwazii was saying that there was tracking on the GUP E, though he wondered why that was relevant at all. “W—-an le—ave it h—-ere” 

Leave the GUP? Peso thought.  If he agreed, he was sure the rest of the crew would be able to find it, right? Given the priorly mentioned GUP tracking and all. Just as he was saying “yes”, something came into view–a hull of a ship emerging from the stirred up sand and swirling waves, and Peso practically jumped for joy. “Captain Barnacles!” he cheered, and Kwazii whipped his head around, and he pumped his fist in the air. The GUP C lowered, its back facing towards Peso and Kwazii. Kwazii swam over, grabbing the tow line and swimming back to the GUP E and Peso, and they attached it to its rudders. They both hopped back inside the GUP E after giving a thumbs-up to the Captain, and it scraped against the ground, but eventually, it lifted, and while it was bumpy–both Kwazii and Peso were sitting in the seats—it was kinda bearable. Until, suddenly, the anchor loosened, tilting the GUP and the cat & penguin hybrids to the side, and Kwazii fell on top of Peso, “sorry matey” and suddenly, the GUP lurched back as the anchor couldn’t hold onto the GUP E anymore. 

They were flung back, GUP E cruising through the currents without control, and Peso couldn’t help himself but grab onto Kwazii’s hand (and he didn’t realize his claws were out and digging into his flesh because he was just so scared and any form of comfort was comfort, right?) and Kwazii squeezed back, arching his back and shielding Peso’s body with his own, as they suddenly hit something. Peso opened his previously squeezed-shut eyes and as he looked around, he realized, the current couldn’t get to them anymore, but..

“W-we’re stuck in the trench!” Peso exclaimed, and Kwazii got up from his place on top of Peso. “Peso, me hearty… we be one wrong move away from plummetin’ down there like a sunken ship!” and the GUP teetered. “Over t’ that side, matey!” Kwazii yelled, and they leaned against the front part of the GUP E. Their placement was precarious. The back half of the GUP E was leaning off the edge, while the front half was “secure” on the rocky ridge. Peso gulped. Neither knew how much longer the storm would last. “Matey,” Kwazii said, “I think we got to try to get the GUP E more secure on the ledge,” he said, and Peso gulped again. “But how?” Kwazii stepped on the gas (it was battery run but it’s just an expression, right) and the rutter moved a lot, and it scooched them a little over…though the kelp they’d used to drag it along had clogged it up a bit.

Smart in that moment, now an idiot move. If one of them as much as took another step to the side, they could fall down into the treacherous trench. Both of them were still. Neither wanting to risk it. Despite Kwazii’s usually very… danger-oriented nature, he clearly didn’t want to die. And he couldn’t fulfill his nature at the risk of that. “W-what do we do?” Peso whimpered. “..I dunno, matey. I’m sure- the Octonauts will save us,” Kwazii replied. “They gotta.” 

As they were there, both nervous out of their damn minds, the churning water just above the trench, there was nothing they could do. “We gatta come up with a escape plan, matey,” Kwazii said, breaking the silence. “Huh?” Peso blinked away his tears. “Um, w-why?” he asked. Maybe it was a stupid question, though. “So incase if the GUP E ‘ere falls, we don’t die, matey.” Kwazii said, a hint of rudeness in his voice. “Oh. Right..” Peso muttered. “.... wait. Can’t we just… open the back part of the GUP E and swim out? Or.. uh, better yet–open the window shield?” Peso suggested. Kwazii looked at him. “Good idea, matey!” Kwazii said. “Okay, on me count,” Kwazii put up his helmet, and Peso mimicked him, “we swim out, in three,” Peso gulped, “two,” Kwazii’s hand hovered over the button, “one!” he shouted, slamming the button and water flooded inside of the green submarine, and it pushed it back and teetered off the side of the ledge, and Kwazii and Peso swam out, and Kwazii grabbed the front part of the GUP (given how the windshield was still down) and he pulled it, (Peso grabbing onto him to help) and he got it to a steadier place on the side. “Shiver me whiskers, that was..” Kwazii turned to Peso, “very exciting!” he said, shaking him by the shoulders till Peso got dizzy. “W-well, now what?” Peso asked. Kwazii blinked. “...I didn’t think that far ahead.” 

Peso put a flipper to his chin. “W-we could just try to swim back to the Octopod..” he offered. “A bold idea that be, though..” Kwazii looked up. “Even a trained pirate such as meself wouldn’t dare brave that storm.” and Peso looked up too. Even from below, it looked terrifying. “....so we’re sitting ducks..” he muttered. Kwazii sat down against the wall of the trench. “Practically.” 

Peso sat down next to him. “Wait, Kwazii, our air!” he said, and Kwazii’s uncovered eye widened. “A-and we flooded the GUP E, so we can’t rely on that-” he muttered, and Kwazii got up and paced around. “Shiver me whiskers, Peso, I be- I don’t-” and now both of them were panicked, Peso curled up with his knees to his chest and Kwazii pacing back and forth. Their air tanks wouldn’t last forever. Unfortunately, only the Captain had the Octocompass to check the tanks–they couldn’t. “W-well, they were full when we left, right?” Peso asked, and Kwazii nodded. “But we be out here a while, matey–they-” 

Both were panicking to every degree. “Sure– surely the Captain will come rescue us, right?” Peso said. “He will, but–what if he be too late?” Kwazii replied. Peso was silent after that one. What if he was too late? What if him and Kwazii just… died? Hopefully not. And suddenly, like a angel, they saw something blue braving the waves, and it swooped down, and, “Captain Barnacles!” Peso exclaimed for the second time that day. They saw him press a button. “Swim under, there’s a opening,” the Captain said, and the two rapidly swam over to the GUP C, and popped up into it, the door closing behind them. Kwazii and Peso both took in a breath of air. The Captain was smiling. “I’m glad you’re alright. But what were you doing outside of the GUP E?” he asked. Peso and Kwazii looked at each other. “It be teetering off th’ edge, Captain! Certainly a death sentence if I didn’t come up with th’ idea t’ escape through the windshield and then pull the GUP up on the trench side more!” he said. Peso was unimpressed–that was his idea, or at least the first part was. “I helped with that idea,” he said, and the Captain patted them both on the back. “Both of you did good on working together and not, ah, getting hur-” he looked at Peso's hand. “Peso, your hand is bleeding,” the Captain said. Peso looked down at it. Oh. When he had been gripping onto Kwazii’s hand for dear life, Kwazii’s claws had come out and sliced into his palms a little. “Oh.. I think I scratched my hand on a rock a little.” Peso lied, and he felt bad about that, but the Captain didn’t need to know about that. “...I see.” the Captain said. “Better be more careful next time matey!” Kwazii replied. 

That’s a little funny for you to say, Kwazii, Peso thought. “We’ll have to wait out the storm,” the Captain said. “It’s too risky to drive while the waters are like that.” he continued and Peso and Kwazii nodded. Kwazii sat down. “I be set for a catnap,” Kwazii said, and he curled up down on the floor, and fell asleep immediately. The Captain and Peso looked at each other and laughed–it was somewhat impressive he could just do that on the whim. 

Peso looked at his arms and felt his ears–the feathers were gone. He supposed he was okay, now. He sat down next to Kwazii’s sleeping figure and decided to take a little rest, too. It’d been a long day. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt a blanket being draped over Kwazii and himself. 

Lunch was often a casual, relaxing time on the Octopod–when it wasn’t interrupted by the blaring of the Octo-alert, or a mission was happening, of course–and today was no different. The Captain with Kwazii and Peso on both his left and right, and Shellington sat next to Kwazii, with Dashi across from him. Sat next to her was Tweak, and then Inkling was next to her. Kelp cakes, pudding, and seaweed chips (Tweak and Kwazii had managed to convince the Captain to let them get some–even if he wasn’t a fan of the amount of salt they contained) that Tweak and Kwazii were practically just passing the bag back and forth, pouring some onto their plates.

And of course, the kelp cakes varied too–the regular ones, some carrot based ones (Tweak had helped the vegimals come up with that one) and some miso soup ones. The vegimals liked coming up with different types and variations. Some were smashing success, (like the chocolate one (besides with Dashi, obviously. She is part dog)) and others…not so much (The sand one, while… creative, wasn’t exactly tasty). 

The topic today had been focused on family and childhood mainly, as Dashi had mentioned how they should have digital photo albums for everybody. And eventually, that had transformed into this conversation. As Dashi wiped off her chin with a napkin, “I did ballet as a kid,” she said, putting the napkin down. “I really wanted to teach my little sister it, but it wasn’t her style.” she continued, shrugging. Peso chimed in, (albeit kinda nervously) “My older sister did ballet for a while, though she switched over to ice skating..” Dashi put a hand to her chin. “Oh, I enjoyed ice skating the few times I did it–Australia’s not quite.. Ah, suited for it, though.” Kwazii nodded. “I sailed past one time! It be real hot, even in the seas.” he added, and Dashi nodded. “It’s very hot.” 

“Though, surfing’s good there.” she mentioned, and Peso piped up once more, “Oh! I’ve done body surfing with my family before,” he recalled fondly. “It w-was really fun.” “It is, isn’t it? I’ve always loved it.”

“I never surfed, though I be a good swashbuckler,” Kwazii said, plopping a seaweed chip in his mouth. “What does swashbuckling even… entail?” Tweak asked. Kwazii just threw another chip in his mouth. “‘S a lot… like uh-” he trailed off. The table laughed. “Well, you know, I was a polar scout when I was younger,” the Captain mentioned. 

“What that be?” Kwazii asked, and the Captain fondly recollected, “Ah, it was just a little.. Organization, I suppose, that had us to activities that could come in handy during an emergency, or help others.” he said, and Kwazii nodded. “T-that’s cool, Captain!” Peso chimed in, “Thank you, Peso,” he said. “Professor Natquik was our little troop leader, a very nice man. I wonder how he’s doing… he took care of me and Bianca when we were younger.” the Captain said.

“Like a babysitter, for instance?” Inkling questioned. “Something like that. He was more like a… a father, if anything.” Barnacles said. “I see..” Kwazii piped up. “Yeah, Captain Wolfb-” he stopped himself, and Dashi was curious on why, clearing his throat, “I be also taken in by another guy, after me parents left me on me own.” Kwazii said. “...what’d you mean ‘leave you on yer own’, Kwazii?” Tweak questioned. Kwazii shrugged, leaning back in his seat and letting another seaweed chip fall into his open mouth. “Me parents, I’d presume they wanted to let me…. Be independent or somethin’, cus they left me in a box in an alley when I be a wee kitten.”  Kwazii said, totally laxly. Everyone looked utterly shocked, befuddled even. “What?” Kwazii asked, popping another chip into his mouth. “They left y’ in a box?” Tweak asked. 

“...yeah? Did- does that not be normal?” he asked, and was met with an astounding “NO” and he was surprised. “...how old did you say you were again, Kwazii?” Dashi asked. “Around… uh- well, to be honest, I not be entirely sure of me age, but around.. Six or seven, probably.” Now it was Peso’s turn to speak up. “SIX YEARS OLD?!” Peso yelled, and everyone looked at him. Obviously. Especially given how quiet he tended to be. “T-that’s just, um, horrifying, that’s all.” and nobody could really disagree with that. 

“Huh. Didn’t know that.” he muttered. The table was a bit quieter for a moment, before Shellington spoke up. “I have an older sister,” he said. Everyone was, expectantly, a little confused. He was just trying to lighten the mood, that was all. “People confuse us for being twins, though.” he continues, looking at his plate and popping a kelp cake in his mouth. “I have a twin sister,” the Captain said. “I mentioned her before–Bianca.” he continued. “Ah, my sister’s name is Pearl. I hope we can visit her soon, actually.” Shellington said. “I’m sure we can, Shellington.” the Captain says. “Where does she live?” “In a kelp forest near Scotland.” he says, taking a bite of a seaweed chip. 

“Sorry, did you say in a kelp forest, Shellington?” the Captain asks. “Yes! She’s part sea otter, like myself, of course.” Shellington says. Dashi pipes up, “She’s quite nice.” and they all look at her. “Yar’ve met Shellington’s sister, matey?” Kwazii asks, and Dashi nods. “Me and Shellington ran into each other a while back, after I had just got hired to be an Octonaut. I was finishing my two-weeks for my flight attendant job. He needed some pictures of him and his sister for a project, so I offered to take some.” Dashi told them. 

“Actually, now that I think of it–I think we should get everyone’s pictures uploaded to the Octopod’s database.” she offers. Peso tilts his head to the side. “W-why?” he questions. “Just incase if they get lost or something, there’s a copy out there.” she says, and Peso nods. “Good idea, Dashi.”

“I can start with my own, since I already have those. And then Shellington’s. Anyone wanna volunteer to go next?” she asks. Tweak raises her hand. “I’d like t’, Dashi.” she says, and Dashi gives a thumbs-up. “Okay, me, Shellington, Tweak…” “I’ll do it after Tweak, Dashi.” the Captain says, and Dashi nods. “I’ll go, matey!” Kwazii pipes up. Dashi curtly nods once more. “I-I’ll go after Kwazii.” Peso suggests, and Dashi nods again. “I will go last, then.” Inkling says, and Dashi flashes a thumbs-up. 

***

Her pictures were fairly easy to upload, given she took most of them on her own camera, and she had her phone on the ship with her. Sure, nobody really used their phones while aboard, (even if the wifi was shockingly good) but it was handy for getting some pictures from her family. She wasn’t always able to take the picture, after all. She decides that everyone should have all their pictures uploaded besides any repeated pictures. Or, in Dashi’s case, if they had way too many. So, she ended up putting a nice list of photos for herself. 

One of just herself, full body (she decided that everyone should have one of those) 

One of her and her younger sister, Koshi

One of her and her whole immediate family

One of her and her full extended family 

Some old ballet pictures/hobby related ones

One of her in her flight attendant garb

And some vacation pictures that involved herself. 

She figured it was a good list. It wasn’t all of her pictures, (she actually enjoyed selfies, shockingly) but it was a lot. And certainly all of the ones that she’d want backed up, at least. Next up was Shellington. 

She went ahead and uploaded all of the pictures she’d taken, and Shellington sent her the other ones. He didn’t seem to have any with his full family, but Dashi decided not to pry. It’d be rude, certainly. She called him up though anyway. “Dashi, did I accidentally not send you all the pictures?” he asked as he shot out from the Octochute, and Dashi shook her head. “No, you sent them all. I just need to take a few.” she said, and Shellington cocked his head to the side. “A full body shot of you, and of you and the vegimals. I’ve taken a few of those already, but I want one with all of them in view as well.” she said, and Shellington nodded. “I can go fetch them right now, if you’d like,” he said, and Dashi nodded. “That’d be wonderful.” 

Shellington ran off again, into the garden pod. It was where the vegimals spent most of their time, given that’s where they farmed and cooked, so it made sense he’d check there first. Though, sometimes, they wandered off to random places, (especially Codish–the pink one–and Grouber, –the big purple one– or on occasion, Barrot.) and got lost. Of course, they almost never left the Octopod unless if it was all of them going (or just Tunip given as he was pretty much the leader, the representative of them, so that instead of all of them going when the Octo-alert was sounded, it was just him so they didn’t have to stop their duties) so that led to lost vegimals not being a regularly occurring thing. 

That’s what Dashi thought until Shellington, frantic, jumped out of the chute with all of the vegimals trailing behind him. Except one. The tiniest of the bunch–tomminow. Small and red, they often stayed with the others. Almost never ventured off on their own, and if they did, it was usually with Grouber or one of the other vegimals. They just tried to help their brothers whenever they could, and that was what they did. 

Except now, they couldn’t help because they were “Tomminow’s missing, Dashi,” Shellington said, and Dashi was a little surprised. What had happened to them? The one vegimal who was never on their own. “Are they in the garden or kitchen?” Dashi asked, just making sure she was covering all bases. Shellington looked to the vegimals, and Tunip trilled a response. “Tunip says they looked in every nook and cranny in both of those places. They’re not there.” 

Dashi put her hand on Shellington’s shoulder. “Let’s check the lab,” Dashi suggests, and Shellington looks at her, confused. “Why would they be there?” he asked. Dashi shrugged. “Tomminow’s sweet. And all of them know you have a tendency to forget to eat, so maybe they brought some food down or something.” Dashi explains, and Shellington nods. “Makes sense.” he says, and they both go into the laboratory–nothing. “Maybe they’re spending time with the Professor?” Dashi suggests, pointing to the library. Professor Inkling says he hasn’t seen them. Dashi can feel the nervousness radiating off of Dr. Shellington. “Infirmary, maybe?” she says, and Peso says he didn’t see them at all. “Let’s go to the game pod, maybe they got challenged to play pingpong,” Dashi says, and when she, him, and his 4 current vegetable-fish-human children arrive, Kwazii and the Captain are playing. “Tomminow’s missing?” the Captain asks, and Dashi nods. “Have you seen them?” she asks, and Kwazii shakes his head. “Nah, matey. Maybe they be helping Tweak, though?” he suggests, and Dashi and Shellington decide to listen to his suggestion and head to the launch bay. “Missin’?” Tweak asks, tightening a bolt on the GUP A, leaning over on it from the jutted out bit in the bay. “Tomminow, the tiny red one,” Shellington elaborates, gripping onto his satchel’s strap tight.  “No, sorry. I haven’t seen ‘em.” Tweak says sympathetically. 

Shellington looks at Dashi. “Where are they, then?” he asks no one. And nobody besides Tomminow themself knows the answer. 

Suddenly, the alarm blares–but not the Octo-alert. Tweak races over to the screen, and she presses a button, and she gasps. “Somethin’s stuck in one of th’ pipes!” she cries, and Shellington and Dashi look at each other, sharing one thought–Tomminow. 

“Which one, Tweak?” Dashi asks, somehow still sounding calm even in this situation. She pressed a few buttons and pulled it up on screen, the orangish dot lodged in the pipes that was likely Tomminow blinking, and she pointed. “It’s one of the ones for the kitchen’s sink. No idea how they got in there, assumin’ it is Tominnow…” she said, biting into her ‘thinking carrot’ as she called it.  

She looked at Shellington and Dashi. “But no matter how or why, we needa get em out. I’m soundin’ the Octo-alert!” she said, slapping the button with her palm, and the ‘woop, woop’ sound echoed throughout the ship. “What’s the matter, Tweak?” the Captain asked through the screen–he appeared to still be in the gamepod with Kwazii from what Dashi could see. 

“Somethin’--we think it may be Tominnow–is stuck in one of th’ pipes!” Tweak frantically said, and the Captain’s eyes widened. “Tominnow be stuck in the pipes?! I know they be a little matey, but–the pipes?” Kwazii commented from behind. Tweak nodded. “It’s in the kitchen.” she said, and the Captain commanded, “Octonauts, to the garden pod!” 

***

Soon enough, all of them were there. Shellington looked to be on the verge of tears, most of the vegimals were crying, and everyone else just looked generally concerned. Tweak pulled up a map of the pipes on her Octo-tablet, and her face displayed a grimace. “It doesn’t look great. It’s a little bit of a tight squeeze for someone like the Captain,” and Dashi seemed to be the only one who noticed the Captain get significantly more nervous,”but fer me or Kwazii or Dashi it’d be okay. We’d have to cut a hole about..” she stepped over to a tile, thumping her boot down. “Here. It’d allow for the easiest entrance. And, we’d uh, have to cut open the pipe. So, whoever’s going down will have to twist the valve to stop the flow completely, because otherwise we’d have a real disaster.” 

She sighed. “I could do-” she started, but Kwazii piped up. “I’ll do it, matey!” he valiantly said. It wasn’t a surprise that he wanted to do the risky thing. Tweak nodded. “That’s a good idea. It’s probably smart to have me supervising from above, looking at th’ pipes and the sort anyways.” she said. And so, it was decided. “Captain, you know how t’ belay, right?” Tweak asked. He nodded. “Of course. It was part of my polar scout training.” he said, and Tweak gave a thumbs up. 

As Tweak cut open the hole in the Octopod’s kitchen’s floor, Kwazii wormed his way into the harness, and was embarrassed when it was all twisted up and he had to do it again (this time with some help from the Captain). Though after that little fiasco, they were good to go. Well, after Tweak gave him a backpack that held a sawzall, a device that could cut through the metal pipes.  “Okay, Kwaz, yer gonna want t’ step on the big pipe right there,” Tweak said, pointing. Kwazii turned on his headlight. “I see it, matey.” he said, confident. He was slowly lowered down by the Captain, landing square on the pipe with the thump of his Octo-boots. He could hear the chorus of sighs of reliefs. 

“Okay, there should be a pipe to yer left.” Kwazii hesitated, doing the L finger trick with his hands (Even if he couldn’t read or write very well, he had managed to still get that trick down). “It’s thinner then the one yer standing on now, so be careful.” Tweak said from above. “I always be careful!” Kwazii said, jumping down and he wobbled a little bit, but eventually regained his balance on the pipe easily. “The one Tomminow is stuck in is the one just to the right of that,” Tweak says, “Walk forward to get to the valve for it.” she says, and Kwazii obeys, carefully balancing on the pipe. “Wait, stop!” Tweak calls, and he stops immediately. “Get on all fours–otherwise, you’ll bonk yer head into a pipe.” she says, and Kwazii does so. “Now continue.” 

Kwazii crawls along, his headlamp just barely illuminating the space. “Okay, the valve should just be on the pipe.” Tweak tells him, and Kwazii looks at it. “I see it, matey!” he says. “Twist it to the left,” Tweak says, and Kwazii does so, twisting with all his might, and eventually, he’s able to. “Now go back, and I’ll tell ya when to stop.” she says, and Kwazii crawls back, gripping onto the pipe. He’s glad it’s made of metal that his cat claws can’t slice through, because they’re currently out. They tend to when he’s stressed or needs to grip something like he is right now. 

And eventually, Tweak tells him to stop, and he comes to a halt. “Now, on the pipe, I want you to take out the Sawzall.” she says, and he takes the backpack off, pulling the sawzall out. “Don’t worry, Tomminow’s a lot more to the side, so you won’t be cutting the pipe on them.” Tweak clarifies, though Kwazii has a feeling it’s to calm Peso, Shellington, and the rest of the vegimals, not him.

He revs it up, and he places it on the pipe. “It’ll probably take a minute, so be patient,” Tweak says, and Kwazii has the urge to make a snarky comment back, but he doesn’t want to get distracted, so he doesn’t say anything. 

It takes a couple of minutes, but he perseveres through and the pipe is left open. “Lil matey?” he calls, and he hears a trill. And… flopping? “Can y’ get over ‘ere, matey?” he asks, and he puts his hands under the opening after putting the sawzall back in his backpack. He only hears some trills, and some more flopping, and soon, he sees the little red–oh, wait–

“...does they usually look so–fishy?” Kwazii asks as the little fish flops into his hands, and he comforts them as best as he can. “You be okay, little matey!” he says, and suddenly, the little guy transforms back into a more humanoid form, legs instead of tail, and a regular person head (just with a sprout) instead of a fish head with a sprout. He thinks it’s a sprout, at least. Tomminow, donned in their little overalls, clutches onto Kwazii’s shirt like it’s the only thing anchoring them to life. “I’ve got ‘em!” Kwazii calls, “Lift us up!” and slowly, they’re highered, just having to dodge a pipe or two. 

Once they’re back at the usual floor, Tominnow is crying, a wet spot on the ginger cat’s shirt. “Oh- you be alright?” he asks, and Tomminow just grips harder. Kwazii’s bad at comforting, though, so as he stands there awkwardly as the little guy cries into his shirt, he offers, “Um, don’t ya wanna see Shellington?” he asks, and Tominnow looks up, and he trills happily as Kwazii extends out his arms and Tominnow leaps into Shellingtons. 

“...I think I have t’ change shirts..” Kwazii says, grabbing the hem of his shirt and stretching it out to look at it. He undos his harness, and he walks out, going to his room to presumably change his shirt. 

As he enters, he takes a glance at his catnip plant, and at his closet. He’s tempted, to say the least. Part of him feels he shouldn’t, dinner’s probably soon, but at the same time…he hadn’t even taken a little of either things, so he decides he owes himself a little treat. Opening his way too many doors to get into his closet, he grabs a bottle. He pours out a little in an Octo-mug. It’s not much, really. He pours a little more out–it’s only like, half full. 

He walks out, closing his barrage of doors, and he grabs a little bit off his catnip plant. He figures he should eat it, because that’ll mellow him out. And so, he drops it into his mouth, and consumes, and he finds his brain getting a little fuzzy. His arms are covered in more fur, now. He supposes it’s a side effect of the catnip–making him more cat-like. He takes a swig out of the mug, and it burns his throat in a good way. 

He’s sitting on the floor next to his bed, and he pulls out an action comic. Sure, he can barely read, but he can usually grasp what’s going on just from the pictures. He takes another swig, and he’s not entirely sure how long it’s been since the one before. 

And of course, eventually, he’s drunk all that’s left in the mug. He’s not super high or drunk or anything of the sorts at the moment, but he’s mellowed out and he’s satisfied as he sprawls out on the ground because he thinks he sees a new color, and wow is it pretty. He curls up on the floor, and he doesn’t fall asleep but it is very nice. Even if it’s hardwood. He traces his fingers–paws?--along it, giggling for no apparent reason. 

He just kinda hopes nobody walks into his room, because he’d prefer not getting his things banned. They probably won’t, right? He’s probably a legal adult for that kind of thing. He’s not really sure partially because he doesn’t know the legal age for that and partially because he doesn’t know his own age. Really, a tough situation. He’s sure he’s like… an adult, though. He’s been around for at least 18 years though, he reckons. 

Plus, Peso’s like… 27 or something like that and Kwazii’s probably older than that, he figures. Given how Peso acts. He thinks of this as he’s sprawled across the floor and he can feel his eyes getting droopy, and he dozes off pretty quickly. 

He’s awoken by his alarm that next morning, and he groans. “Mmmmmrroww..” he mewls, rolling over on the floor, “Yeow!” he shouts, as his shoulder hits the hardwood floor particularly hard. It’s healed since the whole tiger shark ordeal, but it hurts more than it would usually whenever he bumps it into anything. Thinking about it now, he realizes it’s been a little while since that whole thing. He supposes time has just been passing by–and he hasn’t thought about his old crew much. 

Sure, they were terrible, but, he still finds himself missing them a little. They were his family, practically. Especially… especially him. Wolfbeard. He shuddered just even thinking of the guy. He was.. Honestly probably the only thing he was scared of, besides spiders, (no matter how much he denied that fact) but fortunately, like spiders, he couldn’t jumpscare him under the water. He sailed on a pirate ship, not a submarine like the Octopod! 

Even if he despised the guy now, he was being honest earlier when he said he was like a dad to him. Given his parents left him at a young age, and Calico Jack went missing a long, long time ago, he didn’t have anyone else. Groaning and getting up, he crawled into his bed. He shouldn’t go back to sleep, though he wanted to. He stretched and got out. Walking out, him and the Captain had decided to leave their rooms at the same time. “Good morning, Kwazii,” the Captain said. “Mornin’, Captain,” he replied. Oh. That was the first time he’d called him Captain. He figured the term and ol’ him had been separated enough in his mind to be comfortable calling someone else that. “Off to breakfast, ey?” Kwazii says, jumping, and the Captain curtly nods. “Yes. I believe Dashi is going to be uploading more pictures, today.” he tells Kwazii, and the cat nods. “Oh, alright. Who’s she on?” “Shellington, I believe. She wasn’t able to finish yesterday with Tomminow’s situation. And, she might skip Tweak for now since she needs to repair the pipe and the floor.” Captain Barnacles said, and Kwazii gave a thumbs up. “Oh, who be after Tweak?” Kwazii asked. 

“Myself. Then you, I believe.” he said, and Kwazii nodded, jumping down the chute. The Captain trailed after him as they launched into the headquarters of the Octopod, and Dashi was already there. So was Tweak. “Hiya Cap,” she said, waving to the Captain. “Hello Tweak. How’s the progress on the pipe going?” he asked, and Tweak put her hand on her hip and took out a carrot. “I know how t’ do it, but y’ need to belay me.” she said. “And the vegimals are too nervous to go into the kitchen while the hole’s open, so we may have to… delay breakfast.” she rubbed the back of her neck. 

Kwazii sulked, his ears pressing against the sides of his head. “Aw, that be unfortunate.” he said, and Tweak agreed, taking another bite of her carrot. “Agreed. I’m hungry.” she said. The Captain cleared his throat. “Speaking of,” he looked at Tweak, “We should go do that right now,” and Tweak flashes a thumbs up. “Yup! Let’s go,” Tweak exclaims, and she and the Captain head into the Garden Pod’s chute. 

Dashi turns around in her chair. “They’re technically next, after Shellington, but he’s busy coaxing the vegimals. I think we should get your pictures uploaded right now,” she says, and Kwazii blinks, a little surprised. “Arr, okay Matey!” he says, and he runs to the chute. “Try to get any and all pictures you have!” she says, and Kwazii gives a thumbs up as he jumps into the chute. 

He backflips out into the small area between his and the Captain’s rooms, and he walks into his room. He knows he has one sacred picture of him and Calico Jack in his closet, the only one that Kwazii had with him and his Grandfather. He had other pictures of just himself or just Calico but that was the only one with them together. Kwazii knew Calico was great, obviously. Just about one of the most famous pirates there ever was! And as much as he wanted to brag about that fact, especially since he was his inspiration for being who he was, it also felt.. Wrong. He didn’t know his crew well enough to tell them. One day, though. But, he did have a few of just himself–not many, as most of the pictures he had taken during most of his life were with his old crew. And he only had one that he had brought–he hadn’t wanted to escape on that little lifeboat with too many remembrances of the past. He… if something happened to the Octopod, he wouldn’t mind that one being destroyed forever. So, instead, he picked up his small amount of pictures of just himself… and he brought them down to Dashi. 

“No offense, Kwazii, but is this really all you have?” she asks him as he hands her the minimal amount of pictures. “Yes.” he lies, and despite being a pirate, he’s a bad liar. Though, even if Dashi can certainly tell, (she seems pretty perceptive, plus she made a face at the lie) she doesn’t pry, thankfully. Kwazii isn’t sure if he’d be able to lie straight to her face again, especially if she interrogates him. “Hm. Alright. Well, this shouldn’t take long at all, then,” she says. “What exactly are all of the pictures of, by the way?” she asks, tapping at the screen. 

Kwazii picks one up. “This is me as a wee kitten,” he says, handing it back to Dashi. “Aw,” she coos, and Kwazii flushes in embarrassment. Maybe he should’ve left that one out, too. “This one be of me chugging me first rum,” he says. Dashi makes a face. “...I know you don’t know your age, but you look.. Pretty young, there,” she says. Kwazii puts his hands on his hips. “Ah, well a pirate has his first rum at 10, usually.” Dashi looks concerned. Kwazii clears his throat, accidentally a little like the Captain. It’s a habit he has. Mimicking little things like that. He knows he still subconsciously does things that he used to do. It’s not on purpose, really. It’s just a force of habit, truly. Dashi doesn’t say anything more. “And the last?” she asks, still scanning in the second. “That be me after they got lopped off!” he says, handing the picture to Dashi, and she blinks. “Huh. Didn’t know you were trans, Kwazii.” she says, beginning to scan in the picture. 

He cocks his head to the side. “Trans?” he asks, genuinely. She swivels her seat back to look at him, and then back at the picture. “Do you–” she pinches her nose bridge. “Were you born with feminine features, Kwazii?” she asks, and Kwazii shrugs. “Me parents thought I be a girl for way too long, I guess. An’ I got those lumps growing,” he motions to his chest, “There. For some weird reason.” he says. Dashi chuckles.

“What?” he asks. “Don’t worry about it, Kwazii.” she says, a hint of a giggle still in her voice. He decides to ignore that interaction. “Well, I have some other pictures of you that I took, so I’ll upload those,” Dashi said. “Would you mind getting Peso for me?” she asks. “He’s next. Well, probably, at least. Given Tweak and the Captain are probably still fixing up the kitchen from the whole pipe situation, and I think the vegimals won’t leave the lab until the kitchen’s fixed.” she says, shrugging. Kwazii gives a thumbs-up. “Will do, matey.” he says, bounding off to go inform Peso. 

When he gets there, Peso seems to be cleaning up. “Hey, matey!” Kwazii yells out, and Peso’s head bobs up, looking at Kwazii with widened eyes. “H-hello, Kwazii. Why are you here?” he asks, walking towards him. “Yer next for th’ whole picture thing. Y’  might wanna grab some from yer room,” Kwazii says. Peso blinks. “Oh, okay! I’ll go do that now then,” and Kwazii flashes a thumbs-up. Now what?

He’d figure it out, probably. 

Dashi isn’t left waiting long, though she’s able to upload all the pictures she already has of Peso on her camera before he gets there. Peso arrives just 20 minutes after Kwazii went to go fetch him, a box presumably filled to the brim with pictures in his grasp. When he places it next to her, Dashi finds she was right. She should’ve expected it, but this was a lot of damn pictures. She held back the urge to sigh. Peso pulled one out, and unleashed it from its frame. 

“This is of my whole family, not including all of my cousins and aunts and uncles for the most part.” he says. Dashi nods, careful to not accidentally rip it as she scans it in. It seems to have been kept in pristine condition, (unlike Kwazii’s pictures) so that made the process a tad easier. She handed it back to him, and he slid it back into its frame. He put it off to the side. 

He hands her another after taking it out of its own frame. “Me and my younger brother, Pinto, when he was just a chick” he explains as he hands it to Dashi. She coos–it’s an adorable picture. Who she presumes is Pinto is swaddled in a red scarf, and who she assumes is Peso looks nervous and elated at the same time. She scans this one in with ease too. She hands it back, and the process starts again. 

This one’s of Peso and all of his siblings–his older (twin) siblings Perita and Pogo off to the left, Peso next to them, and who she presumes is Pinto’s head barely in frame to Peso’s right. The next is of a lot of penguin hybrids that Dashi can’t distinguish on top of a hill, and who Peso clarifies is himself face-planted in some snow. The one after that is Peso with his medical diploma. Peso in a hospital, which he says is his first real job (Technically more of an internship, but same difference, right?). There’s a lot more pictures after that, but Dashi kinda zones out at that point. 

Eventually, though, Peso’s photos are all uploaded. Dashi thinks one day they should all show their pictures in the game room–or just watch a movie or something. It’s been a while since she’s had a movie night, actually. And she didn’t think anybody would mind snacking on some buttery popcorn. Been a while since she’s had that, too. 

When she laxes back in her chair, she remembers the only ones left are the Captain, Tweak, and Professor Inkling. Technically Shellington and the Vegimals too, but it’s not that many more pictures. She could hold off on that for a little longer. And, as if Meomi themself had granted it, the green haired girl and white haired man popped out of the octo-chute just moments later. “Heya Dashi” Tweak greeted, and Dashi took in the state of them. Covered in sweat, the both of them. As Tweak grabbed a carrot, she dropped it almost immediately, wincing. “Got my hands burned.” Tweak elaborates, kicking up the carrot and it lands on the table. “I’m gonna go t’ Peso, even if it’s probably fin-” The Captain looks at her sternly. “... I’m goin’ to Peso, ain’t I?” she says, and he nods. “That’s true. Now,” he says. Tweak rolls her eyes playfully, jumping down the Octo-chute. 

He turns to Dashi, walking up behind her. “How is the photo-uploading coming along, Dashi?” he asked. “Excellent, Captain. I just need… yours, Tweak’s, and the Professor’s.” the Captain nods. “I’m off to the showers, but I can go get Professor Inkling.” he says, and Dashi grins. “That’d be wonderful Captain.” she says, waving as he launches himself down the Octo hatch. She sighs. 

A frigid shower was probably the most refreshing thing to Captain Barnacles. Given the whole part-polar-bear thing, it was enjoyable. He always tried to keep his showers short, though. Less time in the shower, less likely the Octo-alert would sound while he was in the shower. Either way, it finished quickly, he got changed, and he decided to head down to the hq. Dashi seemed to have already finished up with the Professor’s photos when he walked in, and he walked up behind her. “Dashi, how is the photo-uploading going?” he asked, and she swiveled back to look at him. “Really well, actually,” she says, tapping on the screen. “I’ve got Kwazii’s,” she swiped past a few of his, “Peso’s, My own, most of Shellington’s, the Professor’s… only two I need are yours, Tweak’s, and a little for Shellington.” she says, and the Captain nods. “That’s fantastic, Dashi.” he says, hands behind his back. 

“Mhm. And, I actually have a bit of an idea,” she says, now swiveling the chair completely towards Barnacles. “There’s going to be Octonauts after us, right?” she asks, and the Captain tenses. He hadn’t really thought about it. “Well, yes, there will be.” he cocks his head to the side. “Why?” he asks, curious on what this had to do with anything. “I figured that, and so I had the idea–what if we made a series of videos that are sort of, uh, instructions, I guess. For specific scenarios and situations, I suppose.” 

He puts a finger to his chin. “That’s an excellent idea Dashi!” he says, and Dashi flashes a thumbs-up. “If you could compose a list of sorts of all the things somebody might need to know so that we can develop the videos, that would be great, Captain.” she explains, and Barnacles nods. “I’ll do it once we’re done with my photos,” he says, and Dashi nods. “I’ll go grab them now,” Barnacles finishes, and Dashi nods, facing back towards her screen. He jumps down the Octo-chute, and walks to his room. He gathers up all of his pictures in his arms, and is easily able to carry him all. He works out every day for a reason, after all. 

***

Dashi was glad they’d gotten through uploading all the photos, but this new project was going to take longer. And be a lot more effort, to say the least. Making a LOT of instruction videos was going to take awhile, and it already had. Her and the Captain had gotten together and come up with a bunch of ideas, then later Dashi stayed up kinda late, (blasting music through her earbuds, probably visible eyebags, some of the vegimals bringing her a plate of fish biscuits or kelp cakes on the occasion to keep her fed, sitting criss-crossed on a chair with a fluffy pillow under her, makeup freshly wiped off her face) editing and coming up with ideas for the videos from the ideas. 

She had a lot, to say the least. She was kinda excited to see Captain in that ‘exercise’ outfit that he mentioned–sounded silly, in all honesty. She knew they weren’t doing this in any particular order, and she’d probably end up switching up the numbers a little in the end so that it’s not a bunch of the same thing in a row. Currently, though, she needed to get the actual set up done. A greenscreen was necessary, of course. A lot of these ideas involved it. 

Plus, there was an idea with a blob–one of the few videos that wasn’t just the Captain speaking–that they needed pudding for, plus two others. Dashi figured it’d be Peso and Kwazii, given how those two were 1: often the least busy (especially Kwazii who was really only actually doing things during missions) 2: both most likely more than willing (Peso because he likes helping people + would feel bad if he didn’t help and Kwazii because of boredom). She had a video camera… not the best one, but it would work. 

And today was the start of filming. The first few videos were kinda ‘cringey’--given how the Captain was dressed up in bright, 80s inspired workout clothes, and Dashi was trying to keep herself from giggling basically the entire time. The Captain seemed to be rocking it though, not at all embarrassed, (Dashi wondered if he was a theatre kid) and showing off his ‘polar bear strength’ in a few of the videos. Fortunately, the filming for most of those ones only took… about an hour or two? And there would be a lot more filming. The next batch was just a lot of ‘what if’ situations, some of which the Captain explained just with his words, and a few that they decided on physical visuals. The non-physical-visuals was a little… repetitive, to say the least. The Captain, in front of the greenscreen, yapping on about one thing or another. And that same thing, just… a million times. It was getting at least a little boring. Then, the ones with physical visuals, just… without those, yet. The intros, basically. And, eventually, after a lot of filming (and I truly mean a LOT of damn filming) the Captain orders for a break. 

“Dashi, I believe a break is in order.” he said, and Dashi looked up from the camera that was currently situated on the tripod. “Oh- of course, Captain,” she said, standing up from her squatting position and dusting off her (still clean) skirt. He grabbed his Octo-compass from his belt, looking at the time. “Yes, it’s just about lunchtime, anyway.” he started putting away his Octo-compass back onto his belt. Dashi nodded, clicking the off button on the camera. “Sounds excellent, Captain,” she said as they walked over to the chute, which the Captain jumped in. She followed in after him, whooping a little as she was launched down. 

When she entered the kitchen/dining area of the garden pod, almost everyone was seated, except for Shellington. Dashi was… mildly curious why he wasn’t present. She grasped a plate from the end of the table, getting some fish biscuits and some kelp cakes. There were some clam sandwiches, too. As she sat down, she asked, “Where’s Shellington?”. Kwazii was the one who answered her. “He be researchin’... somethin’. He be real vague,” Kwazii shrugged, “But he hasn’t been comin’ up for meals for a day or two,” he said. Dashi knew her concern was apparent with her expression. “Th’ vegimals have been taking him stuff,” Tweak added. “Oh, that’s good.” Dashi remarked. 

Peso and Kwazii ended up chatting about something or another and everyone else jutted in with their own remarks, though Dashi wasn’t really paying attention. She was concerned for Shellington–sure, he seemed like the type to get obsessed and obsessively research something–, but not even coming out of his lab to eat for a long period of time? It was… mildly concerning at best. She noticed the vegimals were walking off with a plate, and she stopped them. “Tunip, do you mind if I take Shellington his food today?” Tunip tilted his head in confusion for a moment, then nodded, placing the plate back. Dashi finished up, put her plate in the sink, and grabbed Shellington’s. 

Detective work was usually Koshi’s gig, though Dashi figured she’d have to temporarily do it today. 

Jumping down the Octo-chute, food in hand and hair bouncing, she landed in the main hall. She raised an eyebrow—the door to Shellington’s lab wasn’t usually closed. 

[absolutebl]

10 Sunshine/Sunshine AKA cinnamon roll couple BL

A note: usually one half of the sunshine is a bit more quiet and introverted than the other, but they are both still sunny sweeties. Side dishes not included. 

1. My Ride

Thai 2022 Gaga

Thai BL grew up with this pulp - a truly lovely and special little show featuring mature explorations of relationships using one of the softest, sweetest and most innocent friends to lovers vehicles. Kindly, overworked doctor meets broken-hearted motorcycle taxi driver in an “other side of the tracks” slow burn romance. The support cast is excellent, making for great friendship groups and family dynamics. With honest queer rep that adds to, but doesn’t impede the story, and genuine conversation about the nature of class, wealth, and classism, not to mention communication, honesty, and respect for boundaries, you can’t go wrong with this show. In other news, I am a sucker for a single dimple. Full review here.

2. Vice Versa

Thai 2022 YouTube

Jimmy is insanely charismatic and takes up all the air in (the proverbial cinematic) room, but I warmed up to Sea eventually. As a couple they read as more teasing and brotherly than sexy, but that’s GMMTV’s brand for you. I enjoyed the concept of this show (I’m big into magical realism and skewed reality - see my adoration for Color Rush) but JittiRain’s plot was contrived and weak (normal for them). Look, here’s the thing, flaws and all I pretty much spent this entire show smiling.

3. My Only 12%

Thai 2022 iQIYI

Y-novel adaptation (author Afterday - Bad Buddy) and strong little BL romance (tailor made for SantaEarth) about holding onto first love and childhood, but it’s buried under waffling family drama and formless side characters so that it took a lot of digging to get to - still I recommend it for the killer softly domestic couple chemistry.

4. About Youth

Taiwan 2022 Gaga

A truly lovely little coming of age high school BL with a classic YA low drama but high angst and an earnest depth. I didn’t even mind the singing, and that’s saying a lot. A weak seme/uke dynamic but tons of BL tropes (both rare in a high school setting but common for Taiwan) makes this one feel both sweetly and colored by an almost real world authenticity and grit. Full review here.

5. Ghost Host Ghost House

Thai 2022 YouTube?

This is light horror combined with family drama built around a well executed BL trough-line that felt honestly queer with fantastic chemistry from the lead pair. (I hope that we see more of them.) Pluem delivers the softest most seductive krap ever, Tod Techit (Kewin) is one of the prettiest humans on the planet, and watching these boys flirt over noodles is an unalloyed pleasure. Use of I/you pronouns is super interesting and cute as well. For me, personally, the surrounding cast, premise, and story didn’t resonate but if you like a touch of gothic in your BL this might appeal.

6. Dear Doctor, I'm Coming for Your Soul

Thai 2022 iQIYI

This is a romance between a doctor trying to save his patients and a reaper who is both his enemy and (eventual) lover (basically the genius premise of a gay Doom at Your Service). High concept looks good on you, Thailand. It’s lovely to see KarnNat back on screen together and they are still great, and Karn is just as painfully beautiful as ever. I enjoyed this one more than it’s ending deserved, and the best I can say is that it’s not strictly HEA but if you’re okay with Life: Love on the Line, you’ll be okay with this BL. It’s set up well, there’s no surprise unpleasantness like HIStory 3: The BL that shall not be named. Full Review here.

7. Secret Crush On You

Thai 2022 YouTube

Formerly call “The Stalker” for a reason. Highest cringe factor in the biz mixed with flashes of unparalleled genius and insanely good representation of multiple different kinds of queerness makes this entirely unique content we’ve never seen before in BL, the opposite of sanitized gay, like a naked glittery hello kitty doll having kinky sex. I was ALL OVER THE PLACE about this show. SCOY drove me nuts and made me bush but had flashes of unparalleled genius. It had a ton of things I really did not like (e.g. the humor was crass and awkward, and the whole stalker thing was extremely stomach churning, I suffer from bad second hand embarrassment). It also had things that really worked: (e.g. all the queers are INTO each other, it very Taiwanese feeling - in that there was no doubt that the characters want to bone). Honestly, if you can make it through the first half and survive the never ending cringe-factor that IS this show, the second half is entirely unique and kinda special. But I, personally, could never really like this show for all there were bits I loved. Full review of mixed feels.

8. The 8.2 Second Rule

AKA 8.2 Byo no Hosoku

Japan 2022 microfilm YouTube

Very short JBL about a schoolboy who makes magic candy for a series of handsome classmates, questing for a soulmate. Each ep is a new love interest and while the sweets help others, they keep failing to bring our sunshine the love he wants. Of course, he’s overlooking someone. The lead was very good and the theme, cooking, and eventually romance were charming, but it is a series of BL vignettes not really a cohesive story, no kisses or anything. Japan doesn’t give us sweet BL this short very often, so it’s nice to see them try out the style.

9. Ai Long Nhai

Thai 2022 iQIYI

Look, this show was just a typical Thai BL university pulp about a confident gay and a clueless manic pixie dream boy. It had potential, chemistry, and earnestness going for it, but no plot and not enough attention side dishes. In the end, it was boring and you know I always rate boring lower than hot messes (because at least the hot mess TRIED). That said, Ai Long Nhai is better than your average Thai pulp, nothing happens but at least the nothing was mostly shirtless and there were GREAT gay dads (IRL husbands Arm & Porsch). 

10. Coffee Melody

Thai 2022 Viki

Stars Pavel (my love) as a cafe owner (Forth in 2 Moons 2) and Benz as a composer (Call it What You Want). This should have been my kind of BL - on the fluffy end of the spectrum plus honestly queer. Unfortunately, the slow pacing, manufactured angst, odd secondary story arcs, and a selfishly immature unlikeable wet dishcloth main character, Yi, meant its flaws outweighed its charm. Jean (flame on snark fairy) is MINE, I love him so much but in the end neither he nor Pavel in an apron could save this show for me. It’s not bad. It’s not good either. Ultimately so forgettable I’ve probably already forgotten it.

BONUS Strongberry 

Please Tell Me So

AKA That's my Mr.Right!

Korea 2021 microfilm YouTube

Cute barista (played by Han Hyun Jun star of Love Class) has a crush on his customer, musters up the courage to ask him out.

Every list should come with a Strongberry bonus, like a cherry on top... 

This lists dated Dec 2022, not responsible for keeping it updated. But if you have more to add or ones I have forgotten please comment or repost with additions! Keep the dream alive. 

(source)

[avatarmerida]

Pleeeeeeeeease do a one shot with THAT crew art...

You know the one I'm talking about...

(I'm God's miracle)

I do know it. It controls my every thought.

I haven’t seen anyone do it with evil!Hunter (insp @soldrawss) so here’s my attempt at combining the two. In my take of this version, Hunter is aware he is a grimwalker the whole time and basically has to do the Emperor’s bidding to justify existing (nothing new there) but he is aware that Belos is a liar and evil and he also believes he is these things because why wouldn’t he be? In case it’s not clear, this would be after ASIAS in a AU where Hunter keeps trying to recruit Willow to the coven as an excuse to talk to her. It’s less angst and more Megamind (who fully believes he is angsty so) ok bye

---

“Well well well,” came a familiar voice from behind her. “If it isn’t my favorite plant witch.”

“Hello to you too,” Willow asked, unfazed by his “dramatic reveal” as she was so sure he had intended it to be. She did not look up from her comfortable spot on the ground where she sat, gathering soil into her little pail. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Golden Guard? Did you follow me up here or were you just waiting menacingly in the shadows for me to show up?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the business of the Emperor’s Coven with a civilian,” he said, giving her a non answer. “If you’d truly like to know why I’m here I suppose I could entrust that information to a new recruit.”

“Hmm pass,” she said, staying focused on her task with her back to her but feeling his eyes on her. He wouldn’t ask what she was doing, he would either pretend he already knew or ignore it all together.

“Do you need any help?” He asked, uncharacteristically small. Hmm,that was new. He was clearly hoping she’d have a more elaborate response and the prepared retort he had up his sleeve wouldn’t make sense, not that digging in the dirt made any more sense.

“No, I’m almost done,” she said, shoveling the last bit of soil into her pail. It was excellent soil, a shimmering dark turquoise that helped plants be more lively and vibrant. It was well worth the distance Willow had to travel to obtain it and collecting it was relaxing. It was quiet out here, an abandoned building made it seem off-putting to other people but Willow welcomed the calm atmosphere. There was hardly anything out here to capture the attention of the Emperor’s Coven. 

But that seemed to be the case wherever she found herself lately.

“Ya know it’s dangerous to be out here by yourself,” he said, kicking at the ground not expecting her attention to linger elsewhere.

“Well I’m not here by myself now am I?” She asked with a smirk he could hear. Months ago she would be terrified to find herself alone with him, especially knowing what she knew now about the Emperor’s Coven. He did not deny it when she confronted him about what the Coven and the Emperor were really like. He was not ashamed, he claimed, rather he was content with his place and what that meant. He was delighted with the rumors depicting him as ruthless and cruel (and this was mostly from the mouths of her friends) but somehow her experiences with him differed.

He loved a crowd, a perfect chance to act boastful and righteous and flaunt his status. But when it was just them his insincerity did not seem very sincere. She suspected he never spent enough time with anyone for them to see beyond his little character, but she had seen enough repeat performances to pick up the inconsistencies. By now she could tell when his words were empty, when he was leaning into this character that he was forced to method act. But she could sense he didn’t know who to be around her, and she felt that was some of his best work.

“Ya know, the Emperor’s Coven has tons of dirt,” he tried to say casually, feeling things had been silent for too long.

“What?”

“Uh, well that’s why you’re here right?” He sputtered.

“Oh so your business can stay a secret but mine can’t?” She said as she stood up and turned to face him. She could’ve sworn he stood straighter when she did.

“The Emperor makes it a point to know everyone’s business,” he said in a low, cool voice as though he himself was the Emperor. He tried so hard to intimidate her but she somehow always remained composed, as though she was merely humoring him. She wiped her hands on her dark green skirt, the access dirt blending in nicely and shook her head at him.

“Well then ask him what I’m up to,” she shrugged walking past him, purposely brushing past his shoulder as she did. She heard him chuckle deep in his throat, as though she had said just the right thing.

“I’m not so sure he’d be pleased with you trespassing, little plant witch.” the Golden Guard said with a cocky smile. He has stopped wearing his mask around Willow, maybe because it was easier to see or maybe because he thought she could be swayed by a pretty face. She’d have to ask him one of these days.

“Pssh ‘trespassing?’” Willow laughed, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “There’s nothing to trespass out here, it’s totally abandoned!”

“Exactly,” he said, following slowly behind her. “There’s a reason for that; it’s condemned. Strictly off limits.Dangerous.”

“Aww so did you stalk me all the way here because it’s dangerous and you wanted to make sure I was safe before you kidnapped me again?”

“Pssh, what?” Hunter could never place her tone, how it was both sweet and sour, how it asked a question that seemed to already hold the answer. It was like an argument that he wasn’t sure how to win. “Of course not. W-why would I care about what happens to a foolish half-a-witch like you? If you’re foolish enough to come here, you deserve to learn the consequences first hand.”

“Hmm, I could say the same thing about you,” Willow sighed, looking over her shoulder at him. “But which half-a-witch is more foolish? The one who came here or the one who followed her here because he wanted an excuse to talk to her?”

“It’s business!” Hunter insisted, picking up his pace as his voice got higher. “My job is to enforce the rules and will of the Emperor and the signs on the perimeter clearly state-.”

“So are you gonna arrest me?” She asked,  quickly turning on her heel causing him to nearly bump into her.

“I-I could.” He stuttered, his eyes unable to decide where to look.

“Hmm, well you can’t join the Emperor’s Coven with a criminal record so... okay, go ahead.” She set her pail down and placed her arms out as though she was ready to be escorted to prison.

He was taken back. Very rarely did his banter get a response let alone ones so calm and silly. But she always managed to call his bluff and he couldn’t tell if she was wearing him down or winning him over. Either way, what a fine addition to the coven she’d be..

But she was right, and Hunter could hardly back down from what he said without contradicting his whole deal and risking losing the advantage he thought he had. This girl wasn’t scared of him or intimidated by him, heck she wasn’t even annoyed by him. His usual tricks didn’t work on her and as much as he wanted them to, it was somewhat refreshing. But either he had followed her here and hadn't stopped her or he was waiting for her and didn’t speak up right away. He barely understood why he mentioned the trespassing, the Emperor didn’t care about this area he would find the time wasted unless Hunter had actually caught a wild witch.

He was working on it.

“So um yeah I uh-.” But before he could verbally dig his own grave, the ground began to shake. A large crack formed between him and Willow and they both kept back to avoid falling in. The crack quickly sped up and reached the remains of the building, causing it to fall forward, heading towards the pair. They quickly jumped out of the way as the rest of the buildings followed like dominos.

As the walls came crumbling down around them, Hunter went to teleport away dodging the debris as he located the way out. As he looked out of the corner of his eye to see which way the plant girl was going, his heart or the equal equivalent sank when he saw her laying on the ground. A large collection of bricks had fallen on her foot and Hunter watched her remove them as a look of pain overtook her face.

She was so focused on her current situation that she didn’t see another pile was headed her way. By the time Willow did notice it was almost too late and all she had time to do was close her eyes and brace for impact.

But she was not met with the impact she had been expecting.

The next thing she knew, she was in a blur of light. Settings came in and out of focus, the constant, jagged movement made her dizzy but it was somehow sort of mesmerizing. She looked up and saw her savior, serious and sorrowful looking ahead at his destination and not being distracted by the wide eyed girl who clung poetically to his chest.

He darted from point to point, the ground growing more unstable by the second. His focus and grip never wavered as Willow took the opportunity to memorize his features. They seemed to compliment him in every sense, they made the transition from stern to soft so seamlessly. His edges were sharp, his jawline so defined it seemed to direct her to his eyes like an arrowhead. Willow had never seen this in his eyes before; it was less certain than the way they held anger but it was softer than the fear they had known.

She wanted to see them closer, but she felt the look would vanish if she entered his sight.

When Hunter felt they had traveled a safe distance, he stopped and hid behind a wall, making sure no other threats had followed them. Willow watched in wonder as he panted, his eyes desperately scanning their surroundings to make sure there would be no more surprise demolishment. He brought her closer, as though shielding her from unseen doom as Willow’s head fell instinctively on his shoulder as she listened to the sound of him breathing.

“Are you okay?” She whispered, close enough that she could see a fresh wound above his eye, another for his never ending collection.

“We should be safe here,” he said, more to assure himself than her, not quite answering her question. Something about him saying ‘we’ and not ‘I’ or ‘you’ made her heart spin. 

“Hunter?”

“Yeah?”

“You can put me down now.” Willow said, feeling as though Hunter had forgotten she occupied his arms. He held her like she was nothing and everything at the same time. Like he didn’t want to risk dropping her. Like she was precious to him. Like he wanted her close. A boy with no good in his heart as he so adamantly claimed to be could never hold someone like this. She wondered if his kindness was hidden from him or by him. She wondered if it felt familiar or forced, because it felt nice to be close to.

“Oh, right.” He said as though it was really no inconvenience and had simply slipped his mind. He suddenly became conscious of how tight his grip on her was as he gently placed her back on her feet. It felt unnatural to do something so gently, but something about her made unnatural things happen easily. As her feet touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up her body and she winced as she shifted her weight. Hunter instinctively crouched down back to her side for her to lean on him to take pressure off the leg “Sorry about that.”

“‘Sorry?’” She repeated, the shock distracting from her pain, She gave a small laugh. “D-did you just apologize to me?”

“Uh, I mean I-.”

“Were you... worried about me?”

“What? No!” Hunter’s face turned bright crimson, in embarrassment, in anger, infatuated.

“You were!” Willow exclaimed victoriously, as she summoned a large flower to sit on, as Hunter was desperate to pull away. “You were worried you might hurt me!”

“No! I meant sorry for...”

“Oh my Titan, you can’t even think of a fake reason!” Willow accused in delight, adjusting her dress as she made herself more comfortable. “It’s true!”

“Shut up!” He spat, contorting his mouth into a twisted frown. “I-I didn’t even mean to say it!”

“Exactly!” Willow said, pointing her finger at him, small yellow flowers bursting around her to emphasize her point. “You didn’t even mean to! You did it without thinking! Deep down inside of you, there is good!”

“Shut up!” He said again, but this time the embarrassment in his voice outweighed the anger. He tried to walk away from her but his pace was not a quick as it could be, he had no destination in mind.

“You did follow me to make sure I was safe,” Willow said smugly, hoopping off her her seat to skip beside him as tried to avoid her direct gaze. “You care about me.”

“No I don’t!” He insisted, hastening his pace.

“Really? Then why am I over here where’s it safe? Would’ve been easier to have just left me, ya know. Let me ‘learn the consequences first hand’ and all that, right?”

“I was looking out for myself and you were in my way,” Hunter lied quickly. “You just got lucky, but it wasn’t on purpose!”

“You had plenty of chances to put me down,” she pointed out with a bright smile, summoning a vine to carry her to adjust to his speed. Her knee high sock had gotten torn and she could tell her leg was slightly bruised and scratched, but she could worry about that later. “And I’m pretty sure you told me to ‘hold on.’ Now why would you say that to someone whose safety you didn’t care about?”

“I owed you one,” he grumbled, pausing for a moment to try and figure out where they were.

“Would someone truly evil care about his debt to a mere half-a-witch?” Willow stopped behind him, removing her hair from her braids to redo them. She knew he wouldn’t leave with a question like that in the air. He stopped too.

He did not have a response, but he wished he did. He could not blame it on a code of honor because he knew that she believed that he believed he did not have one.

“You care about me.” She stated sweetly. It was not a question.

“So what if I do?” He asked softly, trying to appear as though it was no concern of his, whether or not it was the truth. “The amount someone like me can care about someone doesn’t add up to much. I wouldn’t let it go to your head.”

“So what if I do?” Willow said back, mocking his solemn tone as she twisted her hair back into a braid. “Maybe I care about you too.”

“Another foolish decision on your part,” said Hunter, regaining the steady control in his voice as he summoned his staff, knowing he couldn’t risk staying with her longer. “But I know better than trying to tell you what to think. You’ve made it clear that my opinion is of no value to you.”

“It has value,” she said slowly, disliking the braid she had made and undoing it, giving up on the endeavor. “It values me, so it’s not composed entirely of bad taste.”

“I’ve been very upfront about-,” he said loudly as he turned around to face her, not realizing how close she was standing to him. The vine she summoned for support elevated her slightly so she was at his eye level, her hair free and forming small curls around her face in a way he had never seen before. Their faces were mere inches apart but she did not flinch or pull  away but he swore she held her breath. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “-about your value to me.”

“For the Coven, right?” She said gently as though she had to remind him. “It’s just that, I feel like during our meetings lately, you’ve been trying more to change my feelings about you, and less about the Coven.”

“The coven and I are essentially the same.”

“To you, maybe, but I have no interest in the coven,” said Willow, allowing her vine to set her down as she tried to apply gently pressure on her leg. “So how is it that I spend so much time with the coven head?”

He turned his gaze to the ground and did not answer.

“I highly doubt you pursue all candidates this thoroughly, I highly doubt you have the time,” continued Willow. “With all the time you’ve spent chasing me you could’ve found about ten more qualified recruits. Can you honestly say I’m worth ten scouts?”

“You’re easily worth 100.”

“How?” She asked, honestly perplexed. “Because I have potential? So what? Plenty of people do. You said the coven is no place for emotions, well that’s where my power comes from. Recruiting me would remove the thing that made you want me in the first place. You’re smart, surely you’ve realized that.”

“It's because you’re stubborn, “ he said, looking up at her like he believed he was invisible to her. “You aren’t swayed by fancy words and status and it’s not because you don’t see their worth. Your approval is guarded, it’s selective, and rare things tend to be valuable things.” His voice did not ooze its usual smugness, he said it like he was reciting a poem to her. His voice held something back as though he could not bring himself to say too blunt a compliment. He removed his worn glove and reached out to brush a loose strand of hair behind. He could not place the reason for the gesture.

Willow let out a small gasp, half lost in the complement half breathless from the cold touch of his hand lingering against her cheek. He turned around to walk away, hoping it looked convincing that he could get very far this time.

“So if I had liked you when we first met, you wouldn’t value my opinion?” She called after him.

“If you had liked me when we first met you wouldn’t have really known me.” He called back.

“Does that mean you’ve changed?”

He stopped for a moment and thought about what that implied. She liked him now? Is that what that meant? How? He hadn’t changed as far as he was concerned, but he had never been someone else’s concern before. He didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. He vanished into a flash of gold before appearing in front of her again, no other destination in mind.

“What’s to stop me from kidnapping you?” His voice was cold and demanding, the way it was always supposed to be. “You’re weak, you’re hurt, you’re helpless! I could take you to the castle and throw you in a cell! I could bring you before the Emperor and frame you for any number or crimes! I could-! Er... I could...”

“That’s what you could do, but what will you do?” Willow winced, the pain in her leg growing. “I think if that’s what you wanted to do you would’ve done it by now. But you haven’t. Because you’re worried about my comfort and you’re thinking about what’s best for me.  You’re stalling because you don’t know what you want to do. I feel like true evil doesn’t hesitate.”

He inhaled sharply, cursing himself for hesitating to respond to her. He should be long gone by now, or at least be pretending he was in control of the situation. But he had saved her with no ulterior motive in mind, and the reason that did come to mind was impossible. He didn’t like her seeing him like this, but why did he care what she thought?

“I see how you fight,” said Willow gently, reading his thoughts. “You antagonize and trap and dodge, but you rarely strike. You love to talk and it’s like you’re trying to distract from the fact that your blows are never fatal. You refuse to attack unless it’s totally necessary. Doesn’t seem very bloodthirsty to me.”

“It’s called strategy,” he said. “It’s smart to preserve energy, it’s efficient. That way you don’t end up hurt and in your enemy’s clutches.” He gestured to her current state as though it proved his point. But Willow only smiled. She did not consider him an enemy but did enjoy her time in his clutches.

“So you know I wouldn’t have left you there either,” she said and he just groaned at how she was able to see more than what was supposed to be there. Everyone else accepted he was no good and scary, why couldn’t she? Wasn’t he supposed to want her to?

“Well. since you value loyalty, let’s see you try and join another coven now after the Emperor’s Coven saved your life,” he scoffed as though that had been his plan all along and he hadn’t just thought of it.

But she could see there was no true flair to his actions or ulterior motive lurking in his words, he was simply not used to going against orders in a way that he could not justify. It would have been fitting for his persona not to save her, it would have been tactical to lure her into an agreement before doing so and taking advantage of her position. So why hadn’t he? Why would he risk his life and have nothing to show for it?

“Thank you Hunter.” She said softly. She was the only one who said his name like that. His name was not freely given, but she had managed to weasel it out of him. She hadn’t had to try very hard.

“When you join the coven you won’t be able to address me so informally.” he said, putting his glove back on.  

“I think that’s one reason you’ve become less insistent that I do.”

“You have many?”

“I think you’re scared,” said Willow. “I think you’ve been doing what you’re told and are trying to convince yourself that it’s what you want to be doing but it’s not. But you’re scared because you know what Belos is capable of doing if he ever found out. I think you feel trapped and alone so you don’t listen to the part of you that wants something different because you don’t believe you’re allowed to. Because you know that’s what Belos believes.”

“So you think about me often, do you?” He said, hearing what he wanted to hear or at least trying to make it seem like he did.

“Or maybe you’re just impossible,” sighed Willow, seeing she wouldn’t make any ground in that subject matter today, standing up as much as she could.

“Grimwalkers are supposed to be impossible,” Hunter pointed out. “We’re taboo, an unforgivable sin, we’re damned from the moment we open our eyes. We can be nothing but ruthless...”

She rolled her eyes, as he continued his classic “born to be bad” speech. She should’ve known it was only a matter of time before he needed to prolong his presence with a monologue.

“Yeah, okay.” she chuckled, believing him less and less every time. The speech was more to assure him than her at this point.

“It’s true!” He insisted, the tips of his ears turning red. “I am heartless! And cold! I-I haven’t even asked you if you’re okay besides I don’t care! Because I-.”

“Because you’re checking my vitals like you think I can’t tell,” Willow finished, noting that while he did not say anything he eyed her injury to ensure it was leveled properly to reduce the pain. He was no healing expert, but he had suffered enough on the job injuries to know a few tricks. “You’d leave any other recruit out here to fend for themselves, so why am I any different?”

He looked up at the sky, it was getting late. He was tired and hungry and he knew Willow was meant to home before dark. He would think of something clever to say another day. 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” said Hunter quietly as he swiftly went to scoop her up again. Consciously picking her up allowed Hunter to overthink it. He cautiously placed his arms around her back and under her knees and held her close and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, locking her fingers together to keep her close. If not for what he would later label his momentary lapse in judgment, he would never have the opportunity to be so close to her without seeing fury in her eyes. Now, they held a calm flourishing field of green, they held pleasantly surprised gratitude and maybe... admiration.

He didn’t teleport unless it was necessary, certain the sharp movements would aggravate her injury and flying was no better. So he held her in his arms and walked back to the path, traveling in silence as Willow tried to make sense of the moment.

But it was all in his head. Because at the end of the day, he knew what he was.

He knew he was the latest and therefore the greatest and maybe the last in a long line of disappointments. He was born heartless, his emotions were nothing more than a clever manipulation to imply there was variety beyond disgust and anger. He was told what he was and what he was meant for and he was oh so good at doing exactly what he was told.

He would outlive the others. He would see the plan through. He would not be distracted. He had never had an issue sticking to these mantras until he found himself risking everything to keep a silly plant witch around. He dared to think he could keep her around if he could convince her of the benefits. But why did he want to keep her around any way he could? How was he supposed to explain the twinge in his chest when he became overly aware of how close she was to him, resting safe in his arms?

No one had ever looked at him this way. Her eyes weren’t sizing him up or predicting his next move or scanning him for signs of weakness. Her eyes graced him because she was glad he was there. His eyes weren’t reverting to her every so often because he was monitoring her for a surprise attack or suspected her disloyalty or because he thought she was impressed by him. He wanted to see her face because it made him feel safe, it sent a shot through him that envied fear and lighting.

“Is the whole ‘you care about me’ theory completely off the table?” she asked once their surroundings became familiar again.

“Grimwalkers can’t feel love,” he said casually, as though it was a common fact and not something so devastating. It was a rare truly serious moment so Willow did not cheekily mention the fact that she had not said the word “love” as he set her back on the ground, her house not far from here.

“Well, that doesn’t make you a monster,” said Willow. “Plenty of people don’t fall in love or feel attraction, but that doesn’t mean that-.”

“No, I mean...” Hunter loved correcting people, but his evidence against her claim came with a personal toll that he hoped she wouldn’t ask him to clarify and act as though it was something he didn’t mind about himself. “...I mean, we cannot feel love and we cannot be loved. We can feel fondness, I suppose, and gratitude but no more than is required to know the value of something. But our skin is thick, an armor, meant to deflect any type of affection that threatens to weigh us down. How can a creature without a heart ever feel-.”

Willow interrupted his latest monologue by grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him down to her to place a strong but gentle kiss square on his lips. Despite her warmth, he was frozen. Sweaty, shivering, stunned. Her lips curled into a smile and Hunter’s thoughts were consumed with why. Was she delighted in the action alone or was it all done for his reaction? Had she frozen time or has they been in this moment forever? Was she just trying to shut him up? He’d ramble on forever if this was the punishment. But his chest felt like he had drank of water from the boiling sea, fizzling and burning and bubbling and the warmth spread to the rest of his body and numbed him like her touch contained venom.

He was melting from the inside out and somehow it was painless. His eyes widened in shock at the source, blissfully unaware of the ailment (or maybe she just showed no visible signs?) as she held him in place. It was as though then their lips touched, the world around them became more colorful. Willow had her eyes closed, perhaps because she already knew how colorful the world was. She was the brightest thing in it, after all. Had that always been the case?

His chest was on fire as she pulled back to look at him again, her hands lingered on the sides of his face which was now entirely red. He felt dizzy and dopey and turned around, had this been a trap she had planned for him the whole time?

“What have you done?!” He demanded angrily with a rage Willow had not seen in him before. She couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t speaking only to her. “D-Did you just curse me? My existence is already a curse! Why would you want to add onto it? Why would you-?”

“I didn’t curse you, I kissed you,” said Willow simply as though the two were often confused for each other, her voice carried an airy giggle. “It’s a way to show affection. It’s a gesture of thanks and... love.”

“Is that what this is?” He screamed, referring to the waves of fireworks in his chest that she could not see but somehow understood. “You gave me the ability to love?!”

“Well, I don’t think I gave it to you, but I think that maybe you-.”

“Well, take it back!” Hunter demanded, pulling her close to him by her shoulders and joining their lips as she had done in a swift motion. Unlike the way his hands had flailed behind him when she initiated the contact, she got over her surprise very quickly and leaned into it, reaching up to put her arms around his neck to return the pressure and keep him steady.

It felt just as scary as the first time but somehow easier. She was smiling again and while Hunter had no idea what he was doing, he was pretty sure he wasn’t doing it wrong. As he relaxed and allowed his eyes to fall closed, he could still see the dazzling display of colors as he tried to inhale the faint smell of wildflowers in her hair . Relaxation did not come naturally to him so he was quickly brought out of the moment as he suddenly remembered how he had gotten back into whatever this was and pulled away. Willow followed him as though she wasn't ready to part and when he looked at her, he saw her face decorated in a kindred flush as though she had just done battle. Another trap! Surely staying too long in the “kiss” allowed her to send the curse back to him because he felt so compelled to brush her hair out of her face again and that must be why.

“Curses aren’t really a plant magic thing,” Willow whispered, her hands still clinging to his chest. He wondered if her leg was still bothering her. He wondered why he even cared. “Just so you know.”

“Well, then it’s a reaction to one of your flowers or pollen or something,” he said. “I’m just having an allergy attack.”

“Or maybe you were raised by a liar,” said Willow. “Who convinced you that you were immune rather than neglected because he allowed no examples of any form of love.”

“Maybe...” Hunter began, dwelling over her words. He stepped back as his eyes widened when he found a solution that pleased him. “Maybe... I am the Titan’s miracle.”

“Oh geez,” Willow groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as Hunter’s ego increased and he began to pace, drafting a speech of what this could mean. “Well I’m getting out of here before you make me regret this. But… see you tomorrow?

He stopped. Something about the nonchalant way she said the words tickled his ear like there was something more buried in the words. He had just been thinking about how much her magic had improved in mere weeks, thinking about how powerful she would be if given months. He thought about how her power could benefit the coven. He thought about her often. He thought about her outside of her use to the greater good, he thought about her smile, her laugh, the way she placed her hand beneath her chin when she said something snarky, the soft peridot color of her eyes and how they shined beneath her glasses when she rolled them at him and the way she-.

The way she was the only one who made him feel this way. A way that wasn’t worthless or vindictive. A way he wasn’t supposed to feel.

“Do you intend on needing rescuing again?” Hunter inquired, looking at her over his shoulder his throat suddenly feeling tight like the question he really wanted to ask was stuck and struggling to be known. This tight dizzy feeling that he felt whenever she was around, this growing need to be beside her, did she feel this way about him?

In response, she sent a detailed yellow flower with long dramatic petals littered with pale red stripes. She sent in on a long strong stem so it reached his eye level taking in every detail. It was a remarkably unique flower and did seem particularly special at first but as he brought it closer he saw just how intricate its details were, the small patterns within the petals invisible to the casual onlooker. The scent was sweet but subtle, a pleasure you had to be close to in order to experience. He could tell this was not a flower found in nature, this was of her own design.

The flower’s vine wrapped itself around his wrist like a corsage, twirling around his pinky link it was sealing a promise. She had made her way safely into her house by now and they had an unspoken agreement that this space was off limits. But he knew their paths would cross again. He could use returning her pail of dirt as an excuse to see her. He could say her injury was a liability of the coven and he was obligated by the Emperor to monitor her. 

Or maybe he didn’t need to explain himself, he was the Titan’s miracle after all.

[nczaversnick]

Writerly Questionnaire

I’ve been tagged for this a few time so apologies if I don’t get everyone

Thanks to @the-golden-comet @the-letterbox-archives and @honeybewrites

Jeez this is long. I’ll try my best though!

About Me:

When did you first start writing?

When I was 11 I think? I got heavily involved in the Pottermore community, back before they got rid of the forums for the site. This lead to me getting into the roleplay community when I was 12. This is also around when I started drawing.

Are the themes/genres you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

Yes and no. I do read a lot of fantasy and that’s not in my work as much but a lot of the thematic elements are. I started reading dystopians more a few years ago because I knew Project Gemini would ultimately be a dystopian. Reading YA books has shown me a lot of things I would like to do differently in my book as I am a big fan of subverting expectations.

Is there an author (or fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or to whom you’re often compared?

If I’m being compared to somebody I have yet to hear about it. I think writing style wise I’d like to be a combination of Marissa Meyers (The Lunar Chronicles) and Neal Shusterman (Arc of a Scythe) with just a little Douglas Adams (Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy)

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

Hardly matters where I am as long as I have my iPad and headphones.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Well, I work ten hours a day in a factory so I have a lot of time for pondering. I also usually listen to books at work and listening to something new always helps [it’s also why I struggle to get around to reading friends work, I do all my reading through audiobooks these days]

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Not so much in Project Gemini, but part of that comes from the fact that Rachelle and I had extremely different experiences. She grew up in the city and I grew up in a small town. She travels all over the country every year and if I had my way I would stay in one place and never leave.

That said, it does show in the Fandomverse stuff. My partner for that and I grew up together in the same small town. We both love that small town every and it shows

Are there any reoccurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Oh absolutely. I do several troupes (after all who can resist a good Enemies to Lovers or Found Family?) but for actual themes/message over all, I find I have a constant theme of diversity. And a bisexual protagonist ready to fight anyone who oppresses anyone else.

It does surprise me that it’s so easy to write these people, when being the guy that rages against the machine is so hard for me in real life. I think it’s another way I subvert expectations people have of me.

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, whatever)

I feel like I can’t not say Nic/The Doctor, mostly because he started out as a self insert character. He’s evolved beyond me over the last ten years but still.

Other than that though, Adrian will always be my favorite. He’s the one who started it all for Project Gemini and the only one to survive the first draft

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Oh nearly all of them probably. These stories are built around people who are kind and compassionate in a way that I don’t see in real life often. I don’t think it’s possible to not be friends with them if you really try

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

Aside from my villains (like the great General Lucia Atore) I think I’d have to say Mason, at least initially. Dude is massive and angry looking and I’m basically just a pile of bones and nothing else. Bro could snap me like a twig

Tell me about the process of coming up with one, all or any of your characters.

Nine times out of ten it’s start writing (or drawing!) and see what happens. I wrote Weston for nearly five years before I realized he was gay. Sometimes I have to figure something out but the little version of an OC in my head doesn’t feel like talking so I end up writing snippets kind of surrounding the topic I want to know to draw it out. (This is why @honeybewrites has been getting so much Iris content lately. I’ve been trying to figure out the accident that caused her disability but she’s being stubborn >:T8)

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits among your characters?

Also so much neurodivergency and rage against government

How do you picture them? (Real people, imagined or actors, artwork, fan art or commissioned art. Whatever you’ve got really)

Listen ain’t nobody got time for all the art I’ve done for these bitches so here’s a very small sample. Mix of Project Gemini and Fandomverse:

My writing

What’s your reason for writing?

Because I can.

And emotional regulation.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

Obviously literally any interaction is the best thing that’s ever happened to me but I find it particularly interesting when someone becomes obsessed with one specific char of mine. It’s very rare but I never see it coming.

Rachelle herself is madly in love with Adrian and Nic/The Doctor.

I had an ex once who was really into Atlas and Weston, that one felt entirely out of left field for me.

One of my childhood friends asks me about Flynn every time they come to visit.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work?

I don’t really have an answer for this. I feel like the story is so much more important than their perception of me. If they like it, they’ll like me, because it is me. That being said, I hope when people read my story they feel seen more than anything.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I’m fantastic at developing and tracing character motivations to fuel actions and what a good character arc for them would be I think. It infuriates Rachelle occasionally but she knows I’m usually right.

What have you been frequently told your greatest strength as a writer is by others?

I don’t have an answer for this either. It implies that people actually bothered to read the draft I send them and then also tell me what they think beyond ‘it’s good’

Rachelle says it’s the characters and that my emotional investment in writing is really obvious and appealing

How do you feel about your own writing?

I like it. I like it enough that I don’t understand having unfinished WIPs or ideas. I have these two things and if whatever idea I had doesn’t fit it becomes an AU using characters from either Project Gemini or Fandomverse

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human would you still write?

I’d love to say I would, to leave for whoever comes next, but honestly, if I’m the only person left I feel like I’ll have bigger problems than writing for no audience.

When you write are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading or do you right purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two what holds the most influence?

This one is tricky because it’s definitely both, but also neither. My favorite thing to do and read in storytelling is to subvert expectations. So yes I have to put a lot of consideration into what would the reader enjoy/expect to happen in this story but even then I take that and turn it over on its head, which is more for me XD8

Holy crap well you get 10 cool points if you actually bothered to read all of that

Absolutely no pressure tags because this took me 2 hours to type:

@wyked-ao3 @kittrrrr @zackprincebooks @theverumproject @fractured-shield @poppycat-writes @illarian-rambling @finickyfelix @kuebiko-writing @yourpenpaldee @willtheweaver @moltenwrites @davycoquette +open tag

[harringtonstilinski]

Reunion - Richie Boyle

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Richie Boyle x Reader Word Count: 1,188 Warnings: angst, small fluff, mentions of guns, mentions of blood Smut: no | yes; Requested: I don't remember... if you requested this, pls let me know!! A/N: Hi, friends! After having this sit in my google docs for over a year, I finally got inspiration to finish it! I hope you like this! If you do, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

Ten years ago, I left Chicago and vowed to never return… that is until my father passed away. He was head of our family’s crime organization. Yes, I knew my father was a mobster. Did it scare me? A little. Did I want anything to do with it? Absolutely not. 

See, my father had no sons, only daughters. I have an older sister and younger sister. We’re all two years apart. My older sister wanted absolutely nothing to do with our father’s line of work, same with my younger sister. So, the only two people to take over from my father was his right hand man, Donnie Ward, and… me. 

I guess I didn’t have a choice but to come back, especially for the funeral. I was standing with my mother at his grave site, black dress and shoes on both our bodies, watching as my father was lowered into the ground. My mother, hysterically crying, was taken away from the six foot square in the ground. 

Lifting my eyes to dead ahead of me, I saw a family I didn’t think I’d ever see again; the Boyle family. We were allies with them, which meant that my sisters and I grew up with Richie. His father, Roy, was good friends with mine. 

Deciding it was best to talk with them, I walked around the grave of my father, walking straight to Roy.

“Mr. Boyle,” I smiled, hugging him.

“Y/N!” he said, hugging me back. “It’s been so long.”

“It has,” I replied. “How have things been?” 

He knew exactly what I was talking about. “As good as they’ve always been.”

I nodded my head. “That’s good.”

Turning towards Richie, Roy said, “You remember my son, Richie?”

Smiling and taking a few steps towards him, I said, “Who wouldn’t?” Richie and I hugged before doing that thing where you kiss both their cheeks in greeting. “Richie, how ya been?”

“Good, good. And you?” he asked.

Gesturing around me, I replied, “All things considered.”

Him and I looked at each other, not saying a word. I didn’t think words needed to be said with the looks on our faces. 

Roy cleared his throat, causing me to look from his son’s eyes to his own. “As much as I would love to get down to business, I don’t think now would be appropriate.”

Confused, I asked, “Get down to business?”

“It means that my Pops, here, wants to join forces. Combine the families together,” Richie explained. “Just for business, not personal.”

I smiled a little to myself, looking down. “Never mix your business life and personal life.” Looking back up at Richie, we both finished my father’s quote, “Or someone will wind up either hurt or dead.”

My name was then called by my mother. I said my goodbyes to both Boyle men then walked over to my mother, putting my arm around her shoulders and walking her to the car.

~~~

“Look, I don’t care how much he fucking owes. Get me my money!” I slammed the phone on the receiver, sighing as I sat back down in my seat and closed my eyes. “Fucking men.”

“Aww, we can’t all be that bad.”

I opened my eyes, seeing Richie leaning against the doorway to my father’s– my office. “Yes. You all are that bad.”

Gesturing with his chin towards me, he asks, “Who and how much?”

“You remember my father’s right hand, Donnie Ward?” I asked.

Richie nodded his head, folding his hands in front of him.

“It’s him. Apparently, when my father told him that I would be taking over the family business, he got all pissed and stole two grand. Now, my guys are trying to find him to get the money back.”

Knowing what my answer was going to be, Richie went ahead with the question that I knew he was going to ask. “And what are they going to do when they find him?”

I stood, placing my hands flat on the desk. “Blow his fucking brains out.”

He smirked. “Good answer.”

~~~

“I should be taking over, not her!” Donnie bellowed.

I stood there, checking my nail polish as my guys went on their torture spree on Donnie.

“Doesn’t matter, Don,” I singsonged. “This is a family business. You’re not family.”

“Being your father’s right hand made me family!”

I looked at him, seeing the trail of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. “Not in my book. My father died and left the business to me, and only me. My siblings wanted nothing to do with it. They hated this job, especially this part. Now, you can either tell me where my money is…” I said, trailing off at the end.

Walking forward, I grabbed the gun from Thomas, my new right hand. I walked over to Donnie, standing about a foot from him before raising the gun, putting the barrel right between his eyes. “Or I’ll blow your fucking brains out myself.”

Donnie scoffed. “You wouldn’t. You’re too sweet for that. Daddy didn’t–”

“We found it!” Charlie said. “In his apartment, under his bed.”

“Now, you don’t have to kill me,” Donnie chuckled.

“Ohh, but I do,” I said. “See, you did my father wrong. Told him to take all the bad deals while you went behind  his back and took all the good ones for yourself. You personally put my father through hell with this business. I’m having to clean it myself. But you know what I won’t be cleaning?”

His eyes stared into mine, waiting for my answer.

“Your blood off the floor,” I sneered before pulling the trigger.

Once the reality of what I had done started to sink in, I backed up on shaky legs, handing the gun back to Thomas. “Take care of the body. I don’t care how or where, just get rid of it.”

Nausea started to set in as I made my way back to my office. Once I stepped inside, I started to almost panic, feeling hands on my shoulders.

“Hey, hey, take it easy. What happened?”

I turned around, seeing Richie standing there.

“I shot Donnie. I fucking shot him.”

“Where?”

“Between the eyes.”

He gave me a look of sympathy, pulling me into him as I started to cry. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ve all been there.”

“Not you,” I pointed out. “You’re too chicken.”

He chuckled, which caused me to chuckle in return. We looked at each other before he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear that had fallen from its hold. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. “I promise.”

I couldn’t help myself as I stood my toes, pressing my lips to his, feeling him kiss me back instantly. Our lips moved in sync before my lungs felt like they were catching fire. Pulling away from him, slightly, I took a quiet breath in, feeling his forehead press against mine. “Our families,” I whispered, taking another breath in.

“What about them?”

“They’re combined.” I looked Richie in the eyes, seeing nothing but adoration in them. “You’re mine now. You always have been, and you always will be.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N 2: i forgot this was done in first person pov, lol. but let me know what you thought!

Additional Note: i hope i did richie justice! 

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​​​​​​ @stixnstripesworld​​​​​​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​​​​​​ @quanticobae​​​​​​ @mischiefandi​​​​​​ @kellyashcroft​​​​​​ @lauren-novak​​​​​​​ @good-vibes-and-glitter​​​​​​

Posted on December 7, 2023