#Thank you for giving me the chance to ramble!! I like thinking about the early days for these guys ^^

[somegrumpynerd]

I'm actually super curious about Horror's over eating problem like, in the first two weeks? I'm kinda wondering how Nightmare helped with that!

In his defence, after what he went through pretty much any eating would have been too much.

Like Horror hadn't eaten in years, and suddenly he finds himself in a place where food just exists. Like it's just around and he can take it - he's encouraged to take it because after the other two Nightmare was making a point of saying you must eat to his henchmen when they joined.

So he did the only reasonable thing and went hog wild.

There was no problem as far as the others were concerned - Nightmare was honestly relieved to see he'd chosen a mortal who would feed himself, and hearing him rip into an entire loaf of bread dry like an animal was the right first impression to leave on Dust and Killer. (Not that either of them would kill a teammate for fun, but without any LV and no kills Horror was lacking the intimidation factor they had. It's amazing how after you watch a guy shovel dry pasta shapes into his mouth by hand like his life depends on it you want to give him a bit of space to settle in).

The problem really was that going from eating nothing for years to eating half a kitchen all at once is a terrible idea, and he ended up making himself pretty sick from it. But the next time he went to the kitchen he just did it again, because the fear of going back to starvation told him to just eat it all now so it couldn't disappear. This went on for days, to the point Nightmare was considering doing a tour of aus to find a doctor who could find out what was wrong (and not rat him out to Dream), until Dust came forward with the suggestion of building him up slowly.

It was rough having to limit him, Horror has never been as grumpy as he was in those first few weeks (it turns out he didn't need the pasta to match the others on intimidation, hunger mood swings work just fine.) But eventually he was able to keep food down, and by then Nightmare had made a schedule to make sure they weren't fed too much or too little which was useful for all three.

So he finally had all his henchmen eating properly! And it only took like 2 years c:

[matchingbatbites]

I've been thinking about this post by @foulwitchknight for like three days nonstop, so thanks for the brain worms.

It's after dark when the knocking starts on the trailer door, the sound frantic enough to make Eddie anxious as he pulls himself up off the couch and goes to answer.

He isn't expecting to find Steve on the other side, but his surprise at seeing his boyfriend is squashed when the scent of distress hits him, acrid and bitter on the back of his tongue.

Eddie barely gets out a "Baby?" before Steve is babbling, clearly distraught about something.

"I didn't know, Eddie, I swear. I didn't have anything to do with this and it's- My dad, he just fucking does this shit without even talking to me about it and-"

"Stevie, sweetheart," Eddie cuts in as he reaches out to grab Steve's biceps, trying to ground him a bit. "What are you talking about, baby? What's going on?"

Steve whines, low and forlorn, and offers something to Eddie. The newspaper is crumpled from the iron grip Steve had on it, but Eddie takes it and smooths it out a bit. He scans the page, trying to figure out what could have Steve so worked up, and then he sees it.

Richard and Catherine Harrington are proud to announce the engagement of their son, Steven, to Jack Wright, son of Donald and Linda Wright.

There's more after it, something about honor and business, but Eddie doesn't care about the details. He just looks up at Steve with a soft "Is this real?"

Steve nods even as he shrinks in on himself and mutters a broken "I didn't know," and Eddie can't help it. He grabs Steve again and pulls him inside, into the tightest hug he can manage while he kicks the door shut behind them.

Somehow he gets them back to his room and on the bed, needing to hide his Omega away in his den, needing to keep him safe.

"I don't want him, Eddie," Steve mutters into his collar, his own grip on the Alpha nearly crushing - but Eddie wouldn't have it any other way. "Want you, just you."

Eddie presses his face into Steve's hair, breathing in his marzipan scent, sweet once again now that the burnt edge to it has faded. "I know, sweetheart. We'll figure something out, I promise."

Nails dig into Eddie's back through his thin t-shirt, and then Steve is pulling back just enough to look Eddie in the face. "Give me your bite."

"Steve-"

"Please, Eddie. We were already planning on it, and- I don't want them to even have a chance to take me away from you. You're my Alpha, and I want to be your mate more than anything in the world. Just- please."

Eddie's heart swells and all he can do is nod before swooping in and kissing Steve, hard and desperate. The Omega responds so beautifully under Eddie's touch, and it takes no time for them to strip off their clothes, no time for them to touch and push and press until Eddie is joined with his beautiful mate-to-be.

He can't help the way he rambles as they move together, a litany of "Gonna bite you, baby. Gonna mate you, pup you, give you anything and everything you want."

Steve whines and squeezes where their hands are laced together in the bedding beside his head, a low mantra of "Please please please," falling from his lips.

They hit their climax together and Eddie sinks his teeth into the meat of Steve's neck, into the mating gland that rests under the skin. He groans at the taste of copper and almond that floods his senses, and barely registers the pinch of a bite on his own neck.

Eddie weeps as the bond snaps into place, and Steve isn't any better, fat tears falling down his face as they lay there and bask in the feeling of completion. Of knowing that they belong to each other, that nothing and no one can ever separate them.

They wake up early the next morning and take their time packing Eddie's things, trying to stall until Wayne arrives home from his shift. The man knows something's up the second he steps into the trailer, and it's a long, tearful goodbye full of promises to call and visit before they're climbing into Eddie's van.

They're on the road when Eddie reaches over to take Steve's hand in his own and squeezes it gently. "Hey. I love you," he says, sparing a glance over at his Omega, his mate, his Stevie.

He gets a gentle smile and a soft "I love you too," in return, and that's really all Eddie needs.

[steddiealltheway]

Steve glances down at his watch and looks around at the kids anxiously awaiting Eddie's arrival. He's five minutes late. In any other situation, this wouldn't be a lot, but considering that Eddie makes it a point to be either on time or (most likely) early to anything involving D&D with the party... it's highly concerning.

Steve glances at his watch again just to give himself something to do when Dustin finally bursts out, "Okay! This has to be a prank, right? Like someone has to be in on this."

Steve glances at all the other kids staring blankly at Dustin and finally decides to take matters into his own hands. "I don't think that's what's going on, Henderson, but thanks for the input. You guys stay here, and I'll go check on his place."

"I'm coming with you," Dustin states firmly.

Steve furrows his brows. "No, you're staying because if Eddie gets here and you're gone then that just means more waiting." When Dustin crosses his arms and continues staring, Steve sighs, digs his wallet out of his pocket, and hands Dustin a few bills. "Order a pizza and hang out for a bit or something. Walkie me if he gets here."

Dustin smiles brightly and takes the money immediately rushing off to Mike who is already on the phone calling the pizza place. Steve puts his hands on his hips and asks, "And what do you say?"

"Thanks, Mom," Mike says flatly, raising his eyebrows and looking entirely unimpressed.

"Thank you!" Lucas says as Will smiles and gives him a quiet, "Thank you, Steve."

Steve waits for Dustin who rolls his eyes and says, "Thank you. Now check on Eddie." Steve raises his eyebrows. Dustin sighs, "Please."

"You guys are going to be the death of me," Steve says as he makes his way up the Wheeler's basement steps. He wishes Max and El were there to have his back, but they had taken the chance to have a sleepover while the guys were too distracted to interfere with their girl time. He thinks calling Max to ask her to check on Eddie would also count as interfering.

It's not that Steve minds too much. Really, he rarely gets alone time with Eddie, and it's been a while since he's truly checked up on him. After the bats, Steve often went to his place and helped with wound care since he personally knew what he was going through. But as time went on and their injuries slowly turned into scars, it was harder to find excuses to see Eddie alone.

So, Steve settles for seeing him when the kids invite them both to something, and he's started to even hang around during their D&D sessions, soaking in all of Eddie that he can. He still refuses to play, too afraid of the kids making fun of him for getting confused, but he easily gets lost in the campaigns through Eddie's storytelling.

He thinks it's easy to get lost in anything Eddie's passionate about. It may go right over Steve's head, but he would do just about anything to listen to Eddie ramble - sometimes it might just be an excuse to stare at his lips, but no one (except Robin) needed to know that.

Steve nearly misses his turn while thinking a little too hard about Eddie's lips, but he makes it, turning into the trailer park and parking outside of Eddie's place fairly quickly. He sees Eddie's van in the driveway and takes a deep breath, hoping Eddie just somehow lost track of time or something.

Steve quickly rushes out of the car and knocks on the front door, waiting to hear Eddie's footsteps or grumbling as he makes it to the door.

But silence is the only thing coming from the other side.

Steve knocks harder, hoping the neighbors won't start snooping with all the noise he's making, especially when, a few seconds later, Steve decides he has waited long enough and pulls the door open. He quickly closes it and locks it on instinct as he calls out, "Eddie?"

The living room and kitchen are empty, but Steve doesn't hear the shower running, so he quickly bursts into Eddie's room calling out his name again.

His eyes fall on Eddie lying in bed with the covers tucked all around him, but his pale face is slightly visible through the dark strands of hair covering it. The last time Steve had seen him like this was in the upside down when...

"Eddie!" Steve says, rushing to the side of the bed and brushing the hair out of his face. He cups Eddie's face in his hands and nearly shakes him before he sees his brows twitch as he begins frowning.

"What..." Eddie groans out, eyes squinting open.

Steve breathes out a sigh of relief as he nearly tackles Eddie into a tight hug, ending up nearly on top of him.

"Good morning to you, too," Eddie jokes, squeezing Steve back. "Wait, what time is it?"

Steve pulls back and looks down at him. He runs a hand over his cheek, feeling the warmth of it against his palm, a reminder that he's okay. "It's past five, and it's Friday."

It takes a few moments before a look of realization crosses over Eddie's face, his eyes widening as he curses, "Shit! I couldn't sleep last night, and I decided to take a nap around... three? Maybe?" He shifts back on the bed and starts trying to sit up.

Steve places a hand on his chest and pushes him back down.

"Hello," Eddie says as a blush spreads across his face. "This is fun, but I have a dungeon to master," he jokes, showing off his dimples.

Steve nearly forgets how to breathe for a second, but he finally gets it together enough to say, "You and I both know how hard it is to sleep after everything, so if you're able to sleep now, then you're sleeping."

"I'm fine, re-" Eddie yawns and covers his mouth. "Really."

Steve raises his eyebrows at him.

Eddie sighs and turns on his side to directly face him. "Steve, the kids will kill me if I don't do this session tonight."

"And I'll kill them if they give you shit about it. Does tomorrow night work?"

"I mean, yeah, probably but-"

"Great," Steve interrupts as he stands up and grabs the walkie Eddie keeps on a designated shelf. "Hey, Dustin, this is Steve."

"Is it a code red? Over." Dustin immediately replies on the other side.

"No, everything is fine here. We just need to postpone until tomorrow night if that's fine with everyone."

"There is no postponing D&D!" Dustin screeches.

Steve sighs and replies, "If you complain again I'm giving you no rides or money for a month."

There's a long pause from the other side before there's a response, "Tomorrow works! See you then!" Lucas answers.

Steve looks back at Eddie and gestures toward the walkie. "See?"

Except, Eddie is already beginning to doze off again, head nodding and snapping up every few seconds.

Steve smiles and slowly makes his way back to the bed, gently guiding Eddie back down before tugging up the covers and leaning over to press a gentle kiss against Eddie's forehead. "Goodnight."

As Steve begins to move back, Eddie's hand latches onto his wrist. He stares up at him sleepily and asks, "Stay? You need the sleep, too."

And he's right. He absolutely does need the sleep, and there's no way he's going to turn down the offer from Eddie, but... "Eddie, you're half asleep, you don't know what you're asking."

Eddie looks him in the eye and says, "I know exactly what I'm asking, and if I read the signs wrong then sue me."

Steve's heart beats a little faster in his chest. "Eddie..."

"Let's talk about feelings and everything when we wake up, okay? If you don't want to stay, that's okay. But know that I would want you here no matter what."

Steve looks down at him for a few seconds before he turns to take off his shoes. When he turns back, Eddie is smiling and holding the blanket up.

Steve accepts the invitation and finds himself wrapping his arms around Eddie and pulling him against his chest. Steve gently runs a hand through Eddie's hair, only stopping when Eddie grabs his hand and presses a gentle kiss against it.

Steve responds by bending down and planting a kiss on Eddie's head. He smiles when Eddie happily hums.

As Steve focuses on Eddie's breathing evening out, he finds himself matching it and slowly starts drifting off, falling asleep easily for the first time in a long time with happy thoughts of what's to come when they finally wake up.

[threepandas]

Like A Dangerous Cat: Yandere!Aizawa

See, here's the thing. (And don't get me wrong, to each their own.) I come across Yandere!Aizawa fics time and again, that forget his crucial truth. This man? THIS man... is fuckin EXHAUSTED.

No sexy body or "ooooh~ IMPRISON ME sempai~♡" energy is gonna motivate him enough to get out of his damn sleeping bag. No today, not tomorrow. Not EVER. He's best friends with Nemuri, for god's sake. He's seen finer tits for far less effort.

And HURTING you? Why would he do THAT? You got something to confess? He has more then a few cops on speed dial. He WILL if he must... but for your sake. Do Not Make Him Do That.

It's his napping time.

He gets that so, SO fucking rarely.

But! Does this mean he can not become a Yandere? Are we cursed to a hot hobo-daddy-less Yandere-free world?

The FUCK it does!

He has SO much love to give. And is that not the CORE of the Yandere? The love? The OBSESSION. Hey, real quick, how much of his personality has he completely reshaped around the hole Oboro left in his life? How far do you think he would GO for Mic? What do you think he would DO?

The thing is? He's not the sort of Yandere that would ever hurt or humiliate his Darling. Oh no, he'd sooner die. Take you all with him. No...

No he's a HERO.

He's gonna PROTECT them. Make them HAPPY. Bask in the light of it, like a cat on a sunbeam. And? HOW he protects them? What he needs to DO, to make sure everything is SAFE? That their dreams come true and their path is full of nothing but rose petal n light? Well... they don't need to know about THAT do they?

That's his JOB, isn't it?

To be a HERO. To PROTECT. Keep watch, just in case.

And? He is the sort of Yandere you'll NEVER notice. Others will. They'll never get the chance to WARN you, but they'll notice. Or, they'll already be so wrapped up in his madness, that it all feels normal.

You'll just... start finding your life easier, all of a sudden. Little things will start going your way. Then bigger and bigger. That creep who kept cat calling you? Finally stopped! The rumored pervert around the neighborhood? Caught! Oh! Look! You didn't even KNOW about this sale!

Wonder how the ad even GOT to you...

Still, you'll brush it off. Pet some cats. Wonder why all the guys who used to hit on you STOPPED. Figure they were messing with you. Oh, hey! Promotion! You buy nicer coffee for the weird hobo looking Hero that uses your balcony as a patrol rest stop.

You DID offer.

Even set up a lil coffee maker out there. Electric kettle. A lockable snack box n stuff. You figured he wouldn't trust food left to the open air. It's suspicious, right? He knocked on your sliding door and asked about it. You guys had a conversation and everything. Was pretty cool.

And? Slowly? He'll pull you in. Vague thank you notes becoming polite but generic "how are you"s. Which of course meanders in to questions about things you mention. Longer responses from you. More and more notes. Until? Oh, he just HAPPENS to be early today...

Slowly, carefully, dragging you into his friend group. Letting Mic do the heavy social lifting. Letting Nemuri do the loud girls nights. Letting you roam free, happy and oblivious. Careful as he peppers in the benefits of working for UA. Good pay, excellent protection, unmatchable care package...

Ah, but he's rambling, you were mentioning your unreasonable boss?

And of course, his friends will tease. He has a "crush". That's one word for what he feels. They suggest dates and hookups. It sounds awful. He has an almost comically low sex drive. You would too, with working hours like his. WOULD he though?

The second you showed interest. In anyway you'd have him. Like it's his life's MISSION to get you off. He'd do RESEARCH. Deep dives. Your computer? Hacked. Your search history? Gone through with a fine tooth comb. He found your smut stash WEEKS ago. Has copies of every title, been going through them like he's studying for a final.

He's been friends with Nemuri for YEARS. Knows things youve never even considered. If not from HER, then from her 18+ Hero work friends. They're loud. He's vaguely annoyed that it actually HAS become useful knowledge.

And? The thought of having you completely, taking you apart, holding you, boneless and soft and warm against him? Makes feels like some horny teenager, for how quick that does it for him. He has FANTASIES of what he would do to you, if he actually had enough time of to be well rested.

Wants to pamper you. Wants to limp, bruised and sore, to your apartment, so you'll WORRY. Want to pamper HIM. Want to focus on him. Pay attention to him. Be soft and careful and gentle with him. Your poor wounded hero...

Ah, he bets he could convince you to let him sleep, propped up in your arms.

It'd be so WARM.

In the meantime? He'll slowly get you used to him. Use Mic to do it. That's right, every hour is cuddle hour. It's good for mental health and hormonal regulation. Perfectly logical, really, to get some casual touch from trusted friends, right? Honestly, there's nothing to see here. He's harmless. Of course he can help braid your hair. Sure you can lean against him. Cold? Let's share a sleeping bag.

He's harmless.

Like a grumpy cat.

A big, dangerous cat.

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 15 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: A perfect day isn't enough to solve all your problems, but a Bradley who shows you how much he wants you and Everett might just do the trick. 

Warnings: Fluff and swearing

Length: 3200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

As Bradley pulled into the lot at Petco Park, he flashed a VIP parking pass at the guard. You still weren't sure why you needed to get to the game so early, but honestly, you didn't mind spending some extra time around Bradley today. He made Everett happy, and you were really considering giving him a second chance. Because he made you happy, too. 

Bradley and Everett were singing a song about the Phillie Phanatic, and now you were singing along too. He held your hand tight while he parked the Bronco next to the ballpark, and when he grinned and pulled you out through his door with him, you couldn't help but smile. 

"I'm so happy you came," he whispered, looking down at you with a crooked smile that had your heart melting. "I planned a lot of stuff to surprise Ev, but if you and he aren't having fun, then we can always just get some food or leave early."

You shook your head at him, amazed that he didn't get it yet. "There's nothing that kid wants more than to spend the day with you, watching the Phillies."

"That's what I want, too," he replied, opening the back door and lifting Everett down. "Ready, kiddo? I have something cool to show you."

You walked a few steps behind them as they made their way to the turnstile hand in hand. "What's faster, a slider or a changeup? And how does the catcher know when to get the pitcher to throw a curveball?" Everett rambled. They looked adorable in their matching backwards caps.

"They practice together a lot. Just the two of them. And they get really good at knowing how to communicate."

"That's cool. I wanna be a pitcher and a power hitter."

"Kid, if you can manage to combine those two, you'll hit the majors for sure," Bradley told him, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were there. With a smile, he handed three tickets to the guy in the booth, and next thing you knew, you were all being ushered through an underground tunnel. 

"Where are we going exactly?" you asked Bradley, losing the battle to slip your hand into his free one. The three of you were being led down a long ramp by a tour guide named John who had given each of you VIP badges to wear. 

"On a locker room tour," he replied, and then Everett really got excited. 

"I get to go in the locker room?" he asked, skipping ahead and making John chuckle. 

"I told them you wanted to see the visitors' locker room," Bradley told Everett. "Maybe some of the Phillies uniforms will be hanging up."

And they were. You stood in the middle of the visitor's suite that looked more like a luxury hotel than a men's locker room while Everett ran around with your phone taking pictures. "Mom! Take a picture of us in front of the bats!" 

You snapped a few photos of Bradley and Everett standing near the equipment, and then you tucked your phone away. "This is so cool," you whispered to Bradley while the tour guide showed Everett the snack bar that was reserved for the players. "Thank you."

Bradley sighed. "Jake hooked it up. He begged the groundskeeper. I think he felt bad for what he said to you at the bar."

You nodded and met his eyes. "He told me he likes moms." You watched his eyes narrow just a fraction as he licked his lips. 

"Yeah, well I love moms, actually. I was just overcompensating for my insecurities before. You and Ev are intimidating."

You scoffed. "Intimidating?"

Bradley nodded, his brown eyes sincere. "I told you, Kitten, you two are perfect. And I got in my own head."

"I'm eating the snacks that the players eat!" Everett announced, holding up a bag of peanuts. The tour guide let him take a few as he led all three of you into one of the press boxes. 

Your hand ended up in Bradley's and he kept pulling you closer, but once he saw who was in the press box, his grip on your hand tightened until it was almost painful. 

"Ev, you asked who the starting pitchers were?" Bradley said in awe. "Well, here they are."

"Hey, are you Everett?" asked the Phillies starting pitcher, and you were afraid your son and Bradley were both going to faint. 

"Yeah?" your son asked, and John led him closer to the table where two men were sitting. 

"Wait, are you really a Phillies fan? I heard you're from San Diego!" said the Padres pitcher with a laugh. 

"I like you, too!" Everett said hurriedly. "The Padres are my second favorite team, I swear!" You laughed and both pitchers smiled at you. 

"How about we both sign a shirt for you?" asked the Phillies pitcher. "I don't think anyone else has a shirt signed by rival pitchers."

"Holy shit," Bradley muttered as he watched them each sign an MLB all-stars shirt and hand it to Everett. 

"Why don't you get in there with him for a photo, Coach?" you asked. Bradley let go of your hand so fast to scramble behind the table with Everett, and you snapped a few pictures of the four of them. Then the pitchers stood and shook hands with Bradley, and it amazed you to see that he was built exactly like the professionals were. Tall, broad and strong. 

"Have fun with your parents, Everett," the Padres pitcher told him, knocking his Phillies cap crooked and smiling. "Enjoy the game."

"We will!" Everett and Bradley said in unison, and you stood frozen in place. Maybe they had been too excited to process the word parents, but you'd heard it loud and clear. 

They both looked dazed as John led them back through the tunnel. "Are you both okay?" you asked with a laugh as Bradley's hand found yours again. 

"That was awesome," Bradley said, tossing Ev's new shirt over his shoulder as they emptied out of the tunnel and onto the ballfield. It was a perfect, clear day, and you heard John tell Everett he could run around anywhere except on the outfield. You watched your son take off like a rocket and run around the bases while you cheered for him. He looked so small out on a real infield. 

"Oh, fuck it," Bradley said, and he took off running the bases too while you laughed and cheerer for both of them. Bradley caught up to Everett near home plate where you were standing, and after they both crossed the bag, he scooped Everett up into his arms. 

They were both out of breath as Bradley said, "You'll have to get used to running that far if you're a power hitter."

"I can do it," Everett told him, and they had gigantic, matching smiles on their faces. 

You snapped a few more photos, and then John asked, "Want to throw some pitches?" He handed Bradley a few pristine baseballs, and he and Everett took off toward the pitcher's mound. You stood off to the side as Bradley got Everett set up and in position with one of the balls. Then your son threw a pitch that didn't quite have enough force behind it to make it all the way to home plate, but it was thrown so accurately, you watched it roll to where the batters normally stood. 

"Wow! Great job, Ev! Very accurate!" you shouted, thoroughly impressed. He threw a second pitch, and it was just as good as the first one. Then you watched Bradley trade places with him and wind up to throw what you thought was a slider. It sailed beautifully past home plate and bounced off the advertisement signs. He threw a second one that looked like a fastball. 

"Hey! You're good!" said John as Bradley and Everett ran from the mound to home plate. "Did you play?"

"Just in college," Bradley replied, collecting the balls so John didn't have to. "A long time ago."

"He's a tee ball coach!" Everett announced. "He coaches my team!"

You didn't know if you could remember a time Everett looked this happy, and you felt like you were going to cry. This wasn't a one off. You needed this kind of day to happen again. Maybe not on the grand scale of gallivanting around Petco Park like VIPs, but you needed more days in the park getting ice cream. You needed more pizza nights. You need to have Bradley touching you at the batting cages and making love in his Bronco. 

"Come here, Kitten," he called, waving you over. "I want a picture of the three of us on home plate."

You closed the distance to them, and Bradley tucked you against his side with Everett in front of both of you. John took some pictures with Bradley's phone, and you let your head rest on his shoulder. "Thank you for doing this," you whispered, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "He's in heaven."

"So am I," Bradley replied softly before kissing your lips. "I didn't do anything though. All I did was mess up, Kitten." He was being sincere, and you knew it. You thought you'd have to be an idiot to not forgive him. When John handed his phone back to him, you wrapped your arms around Bradley's waist. 

"Cute family photos," John remarked, and Everett turned to see you in Bradley's arms. 

"Thanks," Bradley replied as he rubbed your back. "Hey, Ev, why don't you run the bases one last time, kiddo?"

"I'll time you," John told him, setting the stopwatch on his phone and telling Ev when to start.

You looked up at Bradley and whispered, "I forgive you." He squeezed you tighter and let out a deep sigh of relief that made you smile. "And not just because today is perfect, but also because Everett and I are both attached to you, so you better not mess this up."

His lips were on yours in the sweetest kiss that had you reaching for more as he pulled away. He kissed you a little harder and whispered, "I'll be so good to you. Both of you," against your lips. You knew he was telling the truth.

------------------------------

Bradley was trying to stay calm, but it was nearly impossible. You were sitting two seats away from him, eating some nachos and smiling at Everett. Whenever your eyes met his, Bradley sighed in relief. He would ask you to be his girlfriend later tonight after the game. He was completely ready for that. Ready to be around for you and Everett. 

"Thanks, Bradley," Ev told him, and Bradley managed to get a napkin under Everett's hot dog before it could drip ketchup on his jersey. "This is probably the best day I've ever had."

It was only the bottom of the first inning, but the Phillies were already leading by one run. The day had been perfect up to this point, but Bradley desperately wanted them to win for Everett. "Probably the best day I've ever had, too, kiddo."

The smile that touched your lips before you bit into a chip had Bradley grinning too. And as the innings wore on and the sun started to set, the stadium lights glowed to life. Everett was sitting on the edge of the seat when the Padres had the bases loaded, and it was all up to the pitcher that had autographed his shirt to save it for the Phillies. Without a word, Everett scrambled onto Bradley's lap to get a better view, and they both held their breath as the pitch count reached three balls and two strikes. 

"Come on," Bradley muttered, wrapping his arm around Everett's middle. When the pitcher struck out the batter, Bradley jumped to his feet with Everett, and they cheered with the few other Phillies fans sitting in the section. "Still have the lead!"

You were sitting in Everett's vacant seat when Bradley settled down with Ev on his lap again, and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "You boys having fun?" you asked.

"Yep!" Everett said, clapping as the Phillies shortstop walked up to bat. 

Bradley leaned in and kissed your cheek, his mustache tickling your ear. "We should do this all the time. At least until he gets to see every team play the Padres."

"And what if he decides he likes a different team better than the Phillies after he sees them all?" you asked, and Bradley scoffed.

"Do we look like fair weather fans?" he asked, gesturing to himself and Everett. "No. That's not going to happen, Kitten."

You laughed and leaned in to kiss him. "You're right. What was I thinking?"

"If the Phillies make it to the playoffs, we'll go to Philadelphia and watch them play and eat cheesesteaks and meet the Phanatic in person," he told you with conviction. 

"Yeah, mom," Everett agreed, never taking his eyes off the game. "Because the Phanatic only goes to home games."

"Yeah, Kitten," Bradley echoed. "The Phanatic only goes to home games."

"You're both ridiculous," you said, but your smile was wide as you let your head rest on his shoulder. 

---------------------------

You felt a tinge of disappointment as the Padres managed to tie the game in the eight inning. Everett was squirming a bit on Bradley's lap in anticipation, and Bradley had his fingers laced with yours. 

"Do you want to switch laps, Ev?" you asked, and both Bradley and Everett replied with a firm No.

But Everett hopped off of Bradley's lap when the inning ended, and it didn't escape your attention that his gaze settled on your joined hands on the armrest. "I'll only be a little bit sad if the Phillies lose, okay? Because I'm having a lot of fun." Then he climbed back on Bradley's lap as you chuckled. 

"Me too, kiddo, but wouldn't it be great if the Phillies hit a homerun to win the game?" he asked, straightening out Everett's cap.

"That would be so cool," Everett agreed as a new batter came up to the plate for the Phillies. 

You pulled Bradley closer, and he gave you his undivided attention. You kissed his lips softly and said, "I think you're right. I want to do this all the time, too." Bradley's lips curled into a smile as he nodded, so you continued with a smile of your own. "The Padres play the Pirates here on Ev's birthday next month. So maybe we can do this again? I know it would be a late game, since it's during the week, but we could see if Molly and Bob want to come too. It could be really fun. What do you think?"

Bradley let go of your hand and wrapped his warm fingers around your neck, pulling you closer until your hand found his cheek while he kissed you. You moaned softly against his lips, you'd missed him this way so much. Then his nose bumped yours as he released your lips but kept you close to him. "Kitten, I think I love you."

"Look!" Everett shouted, and both you and Bradley turned to see what was going on. The echo of the solidly hit ball was still in the air as Bradley dumped Everett onto your lap and stood. You managed to stumble to your feet with Everett as Bradley jumped and caught the Phillies home run ball with his bare hand while the player rounded the bases to the sound of everyone in your section cheering. Then you watched as Bradley toppled over the armrest and into the aisle with a look of elation mixed with terror on his face.

"He caught it!" Everett cheered, launching himself onto Bradley who was trying to sit up awkwardly on the stairs. But he smiled and hugged Everett, handing him the ball while he clenched and unclenched his hand. 

"Are you okay?" you asked, laughing as Bradley stood with Everett hanging onto him.

"Yeah, Kitten," he grunted, kissing your lips while everyone cheered. "Just gonna be a little sore. Damn, my hand hurts," he said, shaking it out again. The three of you were being featured on the big screen as they showed a replay of Bradley jumping up over and over again. 

"Dad of the year!" the guy across the aisle shouted to Bradley, and you couldn't stop smiling.

"Thanks, man," Bradley replied with a laugh as he sat down. Everett had Bradley in a headlock as he examined his souvenir baseball with wide eyes. 

"Wow," Everett said over and over again. "You're good at catching too, Coach."

"I'll teach you everything I know, kiddo." 

"That was insane," you whispered, and Bradley laughed. 

"I had to catch it. That was a once in a lifetime ball."

Everett was distracted by the end of the game as you leaned in close and pressed your lips to Bradley's. "I think I love you too, Coach."

------------------------

Bradley hadn't stopped touching you for a single moment. He was a little sore from landing on his ass in the aisle, but he honestly couldn't remember a better day in recent memory. When the game ended in a victory for the Phillies, Everett hugged him tight, but Bradley kept his hand wrapped around yours. 

When Everett scrambled onto your lap for a hug, you asked him, "Do you want to come back for your birthday? We haven't seen the Pirates play yet."

"Yeah!" Everett cheered, clearly running on a Phillies high. But by the time the three of you were exiting the ballpark, Bradley scopped Everett up and carried him. All of the excitement of the day seemed to have the kid running on empty all of a sudden. When the three of you finally empied out into the parking lot with the rest of the crowd, Everett was mostly asleep in his arms. 

"He's wiped out," Bradley told you with a laugh. You had your hand wrapped around his waist, your fingers rubbing his side, and Bradley couldn't stop grinning. 

"All the excitement caught up to him." You took the keys from Bradley's pocket and went ahead to unlock the Bronco and open the back door. Bradley carefully deposited Everett into the booster seat and buckled him in as his eyes opened briefly. 

"I'm tired," Everett mumbled, and Bradley laughed as he kissed his forehead. "I know, kiddo. Love you." Then he closed the door and you were reaching for him in the shadows of the parking lot, pressing your body to his and kissing him just like he had become accustomed to. He had missed you so much.

He pushed you up against the back door of the Bronco, and you gasped as he sucked on your neck. Your body felt warm against the chill of the night air, and Bradley's hands found their way up inside your shirt. "Kitten," he moaned below your ear. You had one hand wrapped around his neck, and the other was pressing against the fly of his jeans. You could make him go insane. "Kitten, baby, I can't get enough of you."

"Take us home," you demanded. "And stay with me."

"God, yes," he agreed, and then you were climbing in the driver's door and crawling across the seat.

--------------------------------

Best day ever! Good job, Coach! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 16

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[archonsbane]

AND I TRY TO TALK REFINED

The one time Il Dottore speaks to you in another language, the one time he speaks to someone else in another language, and the one time you give him a taste of his own medicine.

pairing. dottore x reader

tags & content warnings. gn!reader. reader is the tsaritsa's child. reader is referred to by they/them. there's one (1) mildly suggestive sentence (and it's in a different language lol).

word count. 2.9k

author's note. so. i'm back from the dead. i have two fics for pantalone and one for diluc, around 8k+ words. (none of them are finished LMFAO) but of course i drop everything for this stupid ass man. the reader here is my tsaritsa’schild!reader, though this takes place before beauty is terror. this is set in the early days of their relationship and the start of dottore’s involvement in the fatui. reader's backstory is also implied here, but not outright stated. also i got inspiration from @fatuismooches lovely headcanons, though i strayed a bit far HAHA. thank you for letting me write this! and thank you to my two lovely delulu friends (you know who you are) bc i suddenly got into the mood to write because of them.  also, what is heavily implied to be the script of khaenri'ah in-game is based on latin, so i headcanon that latin is the language of khaenri'ah. also i had to sneak in a tsh reference lmfao it was too perfect not to. i promise i don't include it in all my fics it just so happens to be perfect for certain situations huhu. also i hope you guys catch all the little details i put in! reader and dottore have always been like this lol the title is from 'talk' by hozier.

You are undoubtedly the worst teacher Dottore has ever had, bar none. 

Flighty, distracted, and prone to seamlessly maneuvering to an entirely different topic without blinking an eye, leaving him dumbfounded. Your teaching sessions, if they could be called that, are filled with constant interrogations of his life and large infusions of food. Half the time you aren’t even teaching him, you’re simply rambling about whatever it is you ramble about (he’s learned to tune you out, partly because he doesn’t care and partly because he can’t understand what you’re saying). He is truly reconsidering forgoing learning Snezhnayan — at the pace you're going, he might as well take his chances and learn by himself.  

“But Mother said,” you remind him, petulantly, like a small child. Yes, the Tsaritsa commanded him to learn Snezhnayan, and commanded you to teach him, but he is greatly tempted to ask her to send another teacher. It has only been two weeks since your lessons begun and he might truly go mad. Sometimes he thinks this might be the worst thing a divine being has ever inflicted on him.

In truth, he already knows Snezhnayan, but only enough to hold a polite conversation. It is his least favorite of the languages he learned from his teachers in the Akademiya, and anyway, he never quite had a deftness for tongues. He is always most at home working with his hands, destroying and creating physical matter, covered in dust and soot, cracking open the world’s secrets like an egg. But the Tsartisa willed him to learn, and he is nothing if not a scholar. 

“But Mother said,” he mocks, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He’s learned that you have no convictions about his personality. If anything, you seemed to embrace it. Whereas he dons a respectful — as respectful as he can conjure, anyways — mask with the Jester and the Tsaritsa, it’s… looser, with you. Still, he is careful not to cross the line. He is only allowed this because he amuses you. You've been treating him like some sort of pet to be played with whenever you desire since his coming here. “Your mother also said to teach me how to speak Snezhnayan, but this is the third time you’ve called for snacks in three hours.” 

You flash a lazy glare at him and go back to eating your beloved pastilas. “You require a tremendous amount of effort to teach.” You’ve switched back to speaking the common tongue, obviously for his sake. “You’re a horrible student.” 

“You’re a horrible teacher!” 

You sniff and take another bite of your pastry. “You’re just really bad at learning.” 

For that, you get a glance heavenward. He is tempted to simply throttle you and be done with it. Treason seems like a fair price to pay for shutting you up. But he considers his options and decides that he would rather not be on the receiving end of your mother’s wrath — it’s too fucking cold here already. Still, greatly offended by this statement, he vents out his anger by cursing at you.

In the language of Sumeru. 

He does not really think of it; his use of his mother tongue has greatly decreased since coming here, but even then, it simply rolls off his tongue as naturally as water flows from a river's mouth.

Your brows shoot up. You open your mouth, pause, and for a moment he fears he is in danger of being exiled or thrown in the dungeon. But then you cock your head to the side. “What does that mean?” You ask. 

An idea unravels in his mind, sparkling with mischief. “It means you’re bad at teaching.” 

You frown. “For some reason, I feel like you’re lying.” 

He curses at you again. Your frown deepens. There is something so satisfying about the way those frustrated lines burrow into your face. When he does it a third time, you actually put down the pastila. 

“What does it mean?” You demand. “You aren’t saying anything bad, are you?” 

It means you’re an insufferable little bastard of mean intelligence and he hopes you fall into a ditch, so yes, he definitely is saying something bad. “It means you’re the most gorgeous, most wonderful person in the world,” he says, sarcasm dripping from the syllables. When you look genuinely taken aback, he lets out a cruel, derisive scoff. “It means you should trust me more.” 

“That seems like a horrible idea.” 

He shrugs and reaches over to take one of the pastilas, light pink with a white, foamy top, vaguely aware that another one of your language lessons has gone considerably off course. Perhaps that was too light a description. It shot in one direction and came speeding back the other way. “Suit yourself, Your Imperial Highness.” 

You smack his hand away, gently. Almost too gently. “Those are mine.” 

He eats it, anyway, and learns many new colorful Snezhnayan curses for it, though he detects no real annoyance in your voice. You ring for another batch of desserts. He counts it as a successful lesson. 

He continues speaking in Sumerian when you're near. It’s the greatest of treasures, seeing you frown and demand to know what he had just uttered in your presence. Sometimes he just says the first phrase that enters his head, most times he insults you and relishes in your clueless blinking. You can't do the same to him — he's been picking up on Snezhnayan at an exponential pace, and he's made sure to memorize all of the insults and swears first. Obviously. It’s his talent for machinations that he prides himself on, but lately, he’s been deriving vicious pleasure from the fact he can speak twenty languages, though it never mattered much to him before. It’s a good, safe outlet for his annoyance whenever you’re near, which you seem to always be, nowadays. 

Even outside the language ‘lessons’ (the word lessons being used extremely lightly) you seem to trail him wherever he goes. Ambushing him in the halls, materializing in the laboratory, and in general trailing him like some attention-starved puppy. He resents it, resents the stars that float through your eyes whenever he enters your view, resents the way you immediately disengage from whatever it was that you were doing to attach yourself to him, all smiles. 

He actively avoids you, but somehow you keep running into him. On purpose or accidentally, he has no idea. He suspects it is the former.

Today is one of those days. You’re by his side, again, chatting happily about… something. He’s trying to tune you out, focusing on the long walk back to his laboratories after a meeting with the Tsaritsa. He needs to do something about that, it’s woefully inconvenient to have to walk a mile every time she calls on him. Some sort of contraption that could go up and down easily would be of great use, and he wouldn’t have to climb so many fucking stairs.

Then — it happens. In your excitement, you bump into some government official accompanied by another, what his role is Dottore does not know and does not care to, but he must be quite high up if he allows himself to glare at you for an instant before it disappears into a cool stare. Or maybe he just has a lot of gall.

"Oh, my apologies sir," you murmur, ducking your head. 

"Quite alright, Your Highness," he says smoothly, "have a good day." He turns his back and starts to mutter to his companion, their heads bent together, completely unaware that with your godly senses and his recent enhancements to his body, you both can hear every word.

"How clumsy," the first man tuts, "what does their mother teach them? She's been too soft on them."

"She lets them run amok doing whatever they please. The other day, they—"

"—yes, I heard. Look at those clothes, aren't they too plain for the heir?"

His companion makes an agreeing noise. "And the company they keep… " 

Dottore doesn't particularly care about what other people think of him, and perhaps if it was only the last sentence that had been uttered he wouldn't have said a word, but the tirade of their complaints makes irritation, absurdly, flare inside him. He whips his head back to their retreating figures, and you throw him a glaring warning, so he clenches his jaw and stays where he is. He isn't one to do nothing, however. 

“Kol khara,” he says to them, viciously. Eat shit. He hears you stifle a sound that might be a laugh and briefly wonders why exactly you would laugh. 

The men turn back around. “Excuse me?” The first one says. 

“Nothing,” he says, curtly, his eyes like sharp daggers, “go on." They throw each other confused glances but say nothing further, going further down the hall until he can no longer see their backs. You both stay in the middle of the now-empty hallway, staring silently off into the distance.

You’ve never been able to contain your curiosity for long. After a good minute of silence, you turn inquisitive eyes on him. He’s been expecting your question.

"What did you say?" You ask.

He shrugs; makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Nothing."

You narrow your eyes. "I know it isn't nothing. It was something bad, right? You've said it to me before.” Clever you, he thinks briefly. Nothing gets past you. When he stays enclosed in icy silence, you press on further, “I won’t be mad. It doesn’t bother me — I think it’s funny. Just tell me.” He has no idea why you would ever think it’s funny. Nonetheless, he stays silent. 

You try again. “Tell me.” 

“No.” 

“Please?” 

“No.” 

“Tell me,” you say again, but this time you slip into the voice of the noble, unshakeable heir to Winter. The two words are a command, and they leave no room for argument. He must follow. 

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “It means I want them to eat shit.” 

A moment of silence passes and Dottore wonders if he should start running. Then, you start to laugh. A small laugh, so small he almost thinks he could cup it in his hands and never let it go. But he recognizes it as different from the laughs you’ve given him before. This one is warm and sweet, conjured from the belly upwards. Summer in a sound. 

He tries very hard not to smile when he says, “you aren’t mad?” 

“No,” you say, still laughing, “I suppose I do deserve it.” He silently agrees. “Anyways, after coming to my defense, I forgive you.” 

He snarls, that sudden irritation reviving itself. “I wasn’t coming to your defense.” 

You shrug, not looking bothered at all. “Fine. Defending yourself and by extension — and complete coincidence — me.” 

He decides it is best not to argue, and listens quietly as you walk with him back to his laboratory, chatting happily away once more. If you notice that over the next few days, his outbursts toward you decrease, you say nothing of it. And if you notice he is insulting other people more in other languages, seemingly for the sole purpose of making you laugh, you say nothing of it, too. 

You’re speaking Sumerian. 

Fluent Sumerian. Rapid-fire Sumerian, without blinking or stumbling over your words. Clean, pure Sumerian, speaking everything with the perfect enunciation of a noble. You don’t notice him behind you, utterly bemused, as you speak to a foreign dignitary from his homeland. The First drags him out of the underground labs from time to time in order to socialize and familiarize himself with the political atmosphere, but Dottore lets you do all the work for him. You engage in polite small talk, though delivered with much more enthusiasm than necessary. But the words are barely intelligible in his head. It isn’t possible that you’ve learned how to speak fluent Sumerian in such a short about of time. He will begrudgingly admit your brightness, small as it is, but even he cannot master a language within a few months. Which means there must only be one conclusion. 

When you notice him, your face morphs into one of surprised panic. Oh. He’s sure his fury is plain to see. It’s at that precise moment the dignitary — Dottore does not see the point in blessings but, Archons bless her — chooses to excuse herself, leaving you open and without a proper excuse to escape with. 

“You can speak Sumerian,” he says, plainly, having immediately taken the empty spot at your side. You take  cautious, half-step backwards. 

You look both amused and slightly abashed. 

He grits his teeth. “For how long?” 

“... since I was five." A pause. You look thoughtful. "Actually, it was your Greater Lord Rukkhadevata who first taught me."

This new piece of information surprises him so much that the flames of his anger are snuffed out, if only for a second. Then they come back raging, and he cannot contain it.

"You knew what I was saying this entire time!" He rages, jabbing an accusing finger at you. You cringe away. "You could understand all of it!"

"Not all of it—" When you see the exasperation that crosses his face, you smile. "Alright. Most of it." 

You begin to walk away, but he furiously follows you. "You lied to me!"

"You were cursing me to my face. I think it's a fair exchange." You shrug with one shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. "It was funny, anyway. Your cluelessness, that is." And then, "you should know, now that you know — I can speak the main languages of each nation." 

"I can too," he says haughtily, raising his chin up at you. 

"Really?" You laugh. "Cubitum eamus?"

"What?"

"Nothing." 

"What does that mean?" He demands, only half aware he's repeating the interaction you once had over a plate of pink and white sweets. He's never heard a language sounding quite like that. Perhaps it could be a dialect, but it doesn't sound similar to any currently existing language. "What language is that?"

You deliver your coup de grâce with such smooth smugness on your face. "It's Khaenri'ahn." The dead language. 

He blinks. Opens his mouth dumbly. And lunges.

As he chases you through the halls, your laughter floats warm and clear in the frigid winter air. You easily outpace him, but perhaps out of pity, you let him catch you and drag you to — well, he doesn't exactly know where he's going, only that he does not want to let you escape his rage. You thrash in his arms like a trapped animal, still controlled by a laughing fit all the while. 

"I hate you," he grumbles later, when you've calmed him with a slice of strawberry cheesecake from the kitchens. He's still quite angry, but not angry enough to not accept your peace offering. "You're horrible."

"So are you." 

A pause, then, "Teach me Khaenri'ahn," he says, leaning forward, a bright idea sparking in his chest. "There's so many texts I have yet to decipher — you have no idea the knowledge I can grasp if you teach me." He thinks of the old Ruin Golems in Sumeru. How hard it was to learn how to control them! But with your help, with your knowledge, he could crack the world open like an egg and watch its secrets spill like yolk. 

"I thought I was a bad teacher."

"Bad is better than none at all."

The utterly offended look that flashes on your face teases a grin from his mouth. "You're horrible."

"So are you."

He thinks he sees the corner of your mouth involuntarily curl upward. You twirl your fork in your fingers, humming thoughtfully. "Why should I?" 

"... For the pleasure of contributing to my research?" The look you give him tells him you're not at all convinced. He continues, "My research that is so very essential to the success of this nation?"

You scoff, but you cannot deny it. He would not be alive if he wasn't useful to Snezhnaya.

"You'll owe me," you tell him. 

He shrugs. "There's worse things in the world. Let's start."

It startles you somewhat. "What, now?"

"Yes, now. Unless you have other things to do?" 

You don't. Your language lessons with him already ended when he reached an acceptable mastery over Snezhnayan according to your mother, and he knows that though you have a schedule (mysterious and utterly incomprehensible though it is — not even he has been able to figure it out), you'd drop everything in an instant if something else interests you. Your other engagements are often boring things, too, and the only duty you ever truly commit to are the strange missions your mother sends you on, ones that could go for months on end. He's fairly certain you'll acquiesce to his request.

You pretend to consider it, before shrugging with hardwon carelessness and saying, "Fine."

You're exactly the same. Flighty, distracted, and prone to seamlessly maneuvering to an entirely different topic without blinking an eye. Half the cheesecake is eaten before you even start on the alphabet, and the journey to that is filled with endless detours that consist of bickering, fighting over the (large) cake, and kicking each other like children under his work table. His intelligence is insulted more times in half an hour than in his entire years of study at the Akademiya.

Dottore decides, with solid determination, after eating the last slice of cake, finally learning the pronunciation of the vowels and consonants, and being on the receiving end of an onslaught of Khaeri’ahn curses he truly cannot understand — which is horribly ironic considering the past few weeks — that he might as well beg the Jester for lessons instead, and no one can do a damn thing about it. He tells this to you, chin up, resolute and unwavering in his declaration. 

He never does get around to doing that. 

[kaziwi]

Heyyy, congratulations for the 100 followers 😍😍

I would like to ask for number 8 with Zoro, if that's okay. Thank you!!

Ugh i love Zoro sm, I hope you enjoy!!!

Link to Event

"I'll just stay behind."

Character(s): Zoro

WC: 727

CW: Sick fic, Zoro being a sweetie

It was cold....but also hot.....you wished your body would make up its mind already. Of course you were the first one on the ship to get the common Grandline Flu this year. But in all honestly you didn't mind being sick, the only issue was your crewmates avoiding you like the plague. Sickness spread easily on the ship, so no one wanted to take any chances. The only one who ever spent long periods of time with you in the infirmary was Chopper, who kept his distance and wore a mask to avoid getting sick. Other than him and Sanji dropping off your meals, you really didn't have any other company.

You didn't blame them, I mean you would do the same in their position, but thinking that didn't make you feel any better. Chopper said they all missed you dearly, but you wished you could hear it from then.

The Sunny had docked at an island earlier that morning, and now it was time for everyone to split up and stock up on supplies. The only issue was who was going to stay with you. Chopper had to run out and grab a few herbs only he could identify, so someone else would have to stay. Luckily for you, they were discussing this right in front of the thin infirmary door, so you could hear everything.

"I wish I could stay with Y/N swan, but I have to restock on food," Sanji said, dramatic sadness in his voice.

"Well I don't want to stay here!! I really don't want to get sick," Usopp pleaded.

"I thought the great captain Usopp didn't get sick?" Nami snickered at him as he rambled on to defend himself.

"I need to get cola so I can start some SUPERR repairs on the Sunny!!"

Everyone fought over who would stay, making you feel kinda sad. They really didn't want to stay with you?? Maybe you were a bit of a burden. Just before you could continue your negative thoughts, a voice caught your eye.

"I'll just stay behind."

The commotion stopped and you assumed everyone turned and stared at Zoro, but the shock didn't last long.

"Thanks Zoro-bro!"

"Yeah, thanks Zoro!!"

"Zoro!! Let me run you through what Y/N needs!!"

You couldn't help but laugh at Chopper's explanations, knowing Zoro wouldn't remember any of it. Slowly the commotion died down, and after a little Zoro entered your room.

"I'm assuming everyone else left?" You asked, not wanting to let him know you heard everything.

"Yeah, they won't be long, just restocking," Zoro said as he took Chopper's doctor chair and rolled it towards the side of the bed, sitting next to you. You then noticed that he wasn't wearing a mask, nor was he afraid to get close to you.

"Why aren't you wearing a mask? Aren't you afraid of catching what I have?"

"Eh, not really. I mean its a small ship, we're all gonna catch it eventually, so might as well catch it early."

You chuckled a little at his response...but you wondered why he of all people chose to stay behind...

"So...why did you stay behind? I mean, I'm assuming everyone else didn't want to cause they don't want to catch it...but why did you?" You asked after a bit of silence. He looked off to the side, and as he cleared his throat you swore you saw his cheeks turn red.

"Well...uh.." Zoro fumbled with his words a bit, which he never did, EVER, "I just didn't want you to be lonely...I know how annoying it can be stuck in the infirmary, and especially being sick and if someone else stayed they would keep their distance. And like I said I don't really care about getting sick so I didn't think there was any harm in staying."

It was cute, watching him ramble on, trying to give you a convincing explanation on while he volunteered to stay.

"Well thank you," you said, cutting him off, "It was a very nice gesture."

He almost looked like a tomato, his face turning red. You both talked for hours until everyone else came back. You were better in a few days, but that same day Zoro started showing symptoms. While everyone else again avoided Zoro, you stayed by his side, making sure his kindness was repaid.

[shiro-s2e2-erukinzu]

Anime only watchers and people who aren't caught up with the Manga, BEWARE... Cuz I'm about to discuss Spy X Family Mission 98... You have been warned...! 👌

[SPOILERS AHEAD FROM THIS POINT ON]

This chapter literally broke me in more ways than one...

This chapter is a continuation of Martha and Henderson's backstory from Mission 97, so let's talk about it shall we...?

So when I opened this chapter and saw a radio...:

...I literally got PTSD from seeing it because it immediately made me think of the first part of Mission 62, Twilight's (or rather [REDACTED]'s) past, so I knew that things were about to take a turn for the worst...! 😔

On the same page, Martha asks Henderson what he's doing here and he tells her that there's a personnel shortage, so he got to graduate early. Then, Henderson turns off the radio and says this:

This is just... It's so sad, but true that things, like radios, that were once made for helping others can easily be used to spread hatred and cause harm... It's just not right... 😞

Moving on, after being separated for so long, Martha and Henderson were able to have another tea party like they used to have, but it wasn't long before things started to take a turn... During a school safety drill, Martha asks Henderson if he's excused from being drafted, and he tells her...:

"It may be that even education is powerless now."... 😟

Hearing Henderson say that hurts my soul... But nothing could prepare me for the next few pages...

Why... Why do things like this have to happen... 😣

No, things like this SHOULDN'T happen...! Innocent people dying because of senseless violence, because of war, it's just not right nor is it fair...! And I will always stand by that...!!

Continuing on, Henderson finds out that Martha is volunteering for The Women's Defense Auxiliary and he's upset by this. She tells him that the ballet company she was a part of is going to disband and her dream will go with it, so he scolds her again and she tells him this:

My heart hurts just seeing the anguish in face and in her words...!! 💔

And the heart break continues because Martha overhears that Henderson is going to be married off and she is devastated... But while in tears, she overhears that the dance is coming again, so this is her last chance to tell him how she feels...!

At the dance, Martha approaches Henderson:

Martha looks so cute here...!! 💗 I was so excited to see them dance together, that when I turned the page, something unexpected happened... I started to cry...:

Seeing them happy, even though just for this moment, it reminded me why I love Spy X Family so much... It's for these moments, the moments that most of S×F's cast is fighting for, the moments that we all should strive for...!! There are just so many bad things going on in the world that it makes wish that moments like these could be the norm for all instead of some...!! I just don't understand why must there be so much hatred and malice in the world... Why can't we all live in peace instead of conflict...

Gosh, I'm even crying now just writing all of that... I should probably start to wrap this up...!

So, just as Martha is about to confess to Henderson, this happens...:

...and the chapter ends... 💔😭💔

And that was Mission 98; truly such a heartwreching chapter to read, just like Mission 62 was...

I don't even know what else to say except thank you to Endo... Thank you for making this manga, for getting me feel all of these feelings, for giving me the opportunity to share these feelings with everyone that loves this series as much as I do...!! Thank you from the bottom of my heart...!! 💗

And thank you to all of you that reads this post...!! There's a lot of things that I wish that I could do to make the world a better place, but if this post inspires you in anyway, that's good enough for me...!! 💗

Sorry for rambling, but anyway... Until the next Mission; take care, be safe out there and thank you for reading...!! 🤗 Later!! 💗

[wolfpackss]

Hi, if you can, please write something about Seth Clearwater imprinting with a very playful girl who loves to tease him and make him shy and nervous like lifting his shirt or kissing his cheeks, or else a scenario where they go to a school dance together and he declares his old crush on her. Feel free to change the things you want, thank you so much❤️

I love love love Seth! I had a lot of fun writing this. Thank you so so so much for requesting something. I’m new at this and English is not my first language so I’m sorry for any mistakes. As you can see I went a little overboard with this one haha! Hope you enjoy!

“Are you serious? You wanna take me to the dance?” Seth could feel his cheeks warm up and he began stuttering a little. “I mean, if you want to. If you don’t that’s okay, it’s just I mean” Seth rambled on and it made you giggle a little. The last dance of the year, your last year. Your last chance to tell him how you feel. “I mean it’s the last dance and I’d like to spend it with my best friend” Seth blushes as he finishes his sentence. You slightly wince at the last two words but manage to smile. “Last dance, Seth. You and me” you share a smile.

You and Seth have a little complicated relationship. You are playful, sarcastic and very spontaneous while he’s very shy, quiet and soft. He’s always nervous about everything, even if it’s just talking to you. You are just friends but that doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings for the boy. The feelings started very early on in your friendship. You saw him evolve from a boy into a man.

Little did you know he’s feeling the exact same thing. He’s always so shy but knew you were right for him the moment he saw you and it all became clear the older you became. You are no longer the little girl he fell in love with, you are the woman he loves. And he plans to do that for the rest of his life, starting with the night of the dance. The perfect setting.

Three weeks later you’re waiting in the living room of your home with your parents who are beaming at you. “You look so beautiful sweetheart!” Your father holds up his phone to take picture number 300. You roll your eyes at their enthousiasme. “He’s here!” Your mother rushes to the front door to let Seth in. He walks in and you let out a small gasp as you see him. He’s wearing a black tux with a white undershirt and black bow tie. He’s holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a small box in the other. He hands your mother the flowers, giving her a small kiss on the cheeks and shakes your fathers hand.

“You look absolutely stunning” he leans down to kiss your cheek and you beam up at him. “I know right, I’m wearing a dress. I mean, that’s something” you joke and he smiles back. You look at the box in his hands and he opens it. A gorgeous corsage is laying there, matching the color of your dress. “How did you -“ you abruptly look at your mom who looks away sheepishly. You and Seth grin at each other.

The entire evening is full of laughter and jokes. You tease Seth throughout the evening and he just blushes or looks away smiling. When the dj announces the last dance of the evening, Seth takes your hand and leads you to the dance floor. “No stepping on my feet, Clearwater!” You laugh at him as he puts both his hands on your hips. He softly squeezes them as he laughs with you. “Just dance, beautiful. And listen to the lyrics while your at it” he whispers in your ear.

The song More than friends by Meghan Trainor and Jason Mraz comes on and when I listen to the lyrics I softly laugh. “You trying to tell me something or?” You try to joke but you fail miserably when he looks at you with a small smile. Your heart starts beating rapidly against your chest and you can feel your hands become sweaty.

“Yeah I am, beautiful. I have this stupid crush on you that turned into so much more. This is my last chance to tell you how I feel and I though maybe this would be the right moment. I love you, I think I always have. I don’t want to be your best friend, I want to be more. I want be the one you think about when you wake up and when you go to sleep. I want to be the guy that you point at and say “that’s my man” when you’re with your friends. But i get it if you don’t want that or if you don’t see me like that, I mean” you cut of his rambling and push your lips to his.

“I’m yours Seth, always have been” he smiles and kisses you again.

Last dance, last chance. And you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[aingeal98]

Hi, so I was reading some of your Stephanie Brown meta & kudos, serious props yours is excellent. I also noticed you seem to be among those who picked up on the worrying undercurrent of Stephanie's relationships with older men. So double kudos for that.

Especially as its one of those things that tends to get glossed over in fandom & I am unsure at times if some writers even grasped what they were doing. Though that may say more about how girls tend to be treated/viewed as adults rather than children, teenagers or victims, save when its convenient to judge them as such.

Sorry not sure where I am going with this, but I think your stance it from that "Five ships that won't happen" section of the Steph ask as well thought out and covered a lot, so third kudos just for tackling that heavy topic so deftly and efficiently.

Ah thank you! Stephanie's relationship with men is so fascinating to me because she's been hurt so many times and the dissonance between her canon and fanon versions are pretty grim yet interesting. Like in early canon she was the Faith to Ariana's Buffy, the Veronica to the Bettys that were Tim's other love interests at the time. And various writers had various ideas about why she was the way she was, a common theme being that she had difficult relationships with the men in her life and had been hurt in the past. Be it a villain, a friend of her fathers, Cluemaster himself, or a shitty clearly too old guy named Dean. I don't think it was meant to be a pattern, more likely just individual ideas about trauma Steph suffered in her past that ended up turning into a consistent trait.

So you've got an abusive father, at least two cases of SA that I can remember (her babysitter and Black Mask), a pregnancy with clear subtext that the father was older than her, and the general way Batman treats her.

Not to mention she was a minor when all this happened. Like Steph has so many issues that she deserves the chance to unpack but instead they've just kind of... softened her down. Like her Batgirl run was the first chance she'd gotten to be the actual hero instead of The Girl in a story written by sexists, and she deserved every second of that. There had been too much injustice done to her character and her Batgirl run did a good job at setting the baseline for giving her a decent narrative. But afterwards, the New 52 could have delved more into her psyche instead of leaning into her waffles and sparkles fanon characterization. But because the New 52 is the worst, it didn't. And now here we are.

It's one of the reasons I'd really love to write a story about Steph realising she's bisexual, because I think in some ways her view of men are due to feeling trapped by heterosexuality and the patriarchal society. It's hard to explain fully without going into a whole other meta but the way she reacts to Tim showing her bare minimum decency is heartbreaking. Like yes men are awful and have been awful to her but she still likes them, she's going to settle down and marry one eventually right? She just has to find the right one, and Tim didn't treat her like complete garbage so he might be it for her!

And then for her to realise that no, she doesn't. She can marry a man if she wants to but if she wants romance there's also women... I really think bi Steph could be so much more than a simple "Oh hey I like girls now cool lol." Like it would shake a significant amount of the misogyny she's internalised and directed towards herself, it could alter the view she's taken of the world, and it would allow her to see her past trauma through a different lens, maybe with less subconscious self hatred.

Sorry this turned into a giant ramble haha, but thank you for the ask!

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

thank you

kieran is a decent shot but is terrifying with a knife (people are not that different to fish). 110% he would win a 1v1 knife fight every time and thanks to army training he's pretty decent at disarming people in hand on hand combat. would take a knife to a gun fight and have a chance of winning

probably taller than 90% of the gang if he actually corrected his posture

his parents died when he was a proper baby only 8 or 9 and he pick-pocketed to survive along with a bunch of other urchins like the saint denis gang. he's still pretty good at it and is really good at being stealthy/light on his feet despite his stature (helpful for not getting noticed by the crueler VDLs)

he also became a pretty good liar and con artist as part of living on the street and getting out of trouble when caught (this is heavily inspired by how differently he treats gang members, happily tells karen he is a baby to get sympathy, people-pleasing 'whatever you say miss with mary-beth, needles arthur back a bit when they go fishing)

probably has a touch of the old imposter syndrome because he never really had the chance to figure out who he was he's just been focused on survival since since day 1. he loves horses because he doesn't have to worry about what mask he has to wear with them

he's frankly not sure how old he is on account of how young he was when his parents died. he enlisted for the army when he looked old enough, in reality he was probs only 17 and barely got in based on his facial hair, which he had never shaved a day in his life since it started growing (hc late 20s/early 30s in game)

he was in the infantry division. consistent food and routine after a decade of fighting for scraps and being spit on? he loved it. very upstanding, attentive, kept his uniform clean and sharp. was there years before he saw active combat. then he fucking hated it. refused to follow orders. was not dying over land. was not shooting at unarmed people. dishonorably discharged. would have deserted if they didn't.

looks like an absolute fucking baby without facial hair and would sooner bite someone than be clean shaven because he hates it

gets very irritable when he hasn't had a cigarette for a while. has picked cigarette butts of the ground for a quick hit. would have broken faster about six point cabin if they offered him a cigarette.

lying through his teeth about his time with the o'driscolls. he was probably with them closer to a year, and a little higher than bottom-rung. got to pick and choose what missions he went on, talk to colm directly, most knew his name ect. i cannot see him having the balls to argue with colm o'driscoll himself unless he had some level of protection/seniority within the gang esp given the circumstances of how he joined. he was trusted enough to ride off on his own without running off?

in saying that. he was definitely considering running off in colter. at no point does he try to fight arthur. no way he wasn't armed. just oh no i am being abducted this is v bad. don't give me food for weeks? still like you more than colm can i stay with you pls

AHHH!!! I READ THIS THE DAY YOU SENT IT BUT I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO RESPOND BECAUSE I WASN’T REALLY EXPECTING PEOPLE TO ACTUALLY SEND IN THEIR HEADCANONS, THANK YOU THESE ARE WONDERFUL!

:D You explained these all beautifully and I feel like I couldn’t say much more, but I’ll try to “yes and…” everything you said because I feel it is worth exploring these ideas you proposed. Long HC ramble under the divider.

1) I don’t know much about 1800’s military training but I can see Kieran being a knife guy like you said. He has a custom knife in game (at the very least he has a custom pistol). Him being good with a knife makes me think of how he comes off as unarmed from a distance but harbors a wicked knife up close. I am sure he mainly uses his knife for cutting fishing line or whittling sticks in his free time. He used it for cutting up animals he hunted while with his past gang. That knife has gotten him through a lot, it’s practically an heirloom at this point; it kept him alive and is one of the few things he fully owns and kept from his youth.

2+3+4) lanky scary guy is stealthy!! Yes!! I would like to mention how no one in the VDL gang noticed Kieran wandering off and getting a gun belt from a corpse during the firefight in A Social Call Mission. He did all of that AND was swift enough to save Arthur. I agree that he was very young when his parents died. I more so think 11-13 in my HC but that’s just because I feel like the stables would rather kick out a tween/teen than a little kid. This blends into your 4th point about being a con artist. Kieran knows his strengths and weaknesses. He knows that people see a scrawny little boy before they see him as a thief. Squirming and squabbling can be enough of a distraction to get away with things.

I don’t have a good explanation for how Kieran did this since he can’t leave camp, but while I was playing, I saw Kieran donated a jewel necklace to the camp funds (and not to brag on his behalf, but he donated WAY MORE $$ than the other members 🤭). Kieran still can pull his weight in pickpocketing, even in game. I imagine he does it without straying too far from camp by pretending he is sick or hungry and thirsty on the side of well traveled paths and getting close enough to strangers to swipe something. It’s subtle enough to not draw attention to camp, yet effective enough to be worth it in the long run.

5+6) I agree on imposter syndrome! One hc I have is that Kieran was raised an only child while traveling westward to California with his parents meaning he had no consistent kids his age to be with. Even in the military (where he SHOULD be surrounded by his peers) he never really connected in a genuine way. Being roughened up by being an outlaw after that just made it harder to emotionally connect since so much required not breaking down if a group member dies. It’s odd; Kieran is unwilling to be vulnerable, but he isn’t this stoic wall. Instead he has this decoy vulnerability?… he’d rather people see him as a weak guy if it gets him out of a physical hurt yet he won’t be vulnerable if it means running the risk of being emotionally hurt.

7) I know very little about 1800’s military (and my cursory research has been shallow thus far) but I imagine it was better than being homeless and orphaned! Food, shelter and routine, like you said. I imagine Kieran was an obedient and hard working kid; helped his family with horses, fishing and hunting. Pre-outlaw Kieran felt conflicted about killing people. I mean… he joined the army so he isn’t clueless that he had to kill, but killing on paper vs actually killing is very different, plus he was a puny teen without a fully developed brain when he enlisted.

Once Kieran became an outlaw, he had to make some sort of peace / find some silver lining to killing. You have to have morally dubious ways of coping with being an outlaw or else you go mad. One way was him (guiltily or not) finding some thrill in gunfights or knife fights. Made him feel good for once about being an easy to underestimate guy. He got to taunt, shout, and watch his enemies faces contort in pain and horror.

8) the facial hair stuff!! I agree that Kieran likely looks like an exhausted young adult under all the scruff. I imagine Kieran has put value into his unkempt looks. He does care for hygiene (source: he says it in cut audio) but he can’t bring himself to trim his facial or head hair because he feels it is the only thing making him a man. Like you said, imposter syndrome, he doesn’t feel like he’s an actual adult who has his life together. I’m sure Kieran has some out-dated ideas of what makes a man (out-dated by modern day standards). Stuff like being strong, a provider, hairy, deep voiced, etc. Kieran isn’t many of those things. Having a snaggly beard is his tiny grasp on meeting what he wishes he could be. I also think he hasn’t cut his hair that much because of a lack of salons while being an outlaw.

9) I honestly forget most of the characters in RDR2 smoke… but I agree! Growing up with a smoker as a parent who tried to quite cold turkey a few times, I know how hellish withdrawal is on a person. While in Colter, tied up, Kieran was the most bellicose because of withdrawals peaking (upon other things). I feel like some point between his parent’s dying and him joining the outlaws was when he took up smoking.

10+11) Kieran was DEFINITELY lying about how involved he was with the O’Drisc, agreed. I see him as being with them for likely 6 months to a year. Maaayyybe more but I feel like Kieran ran with his prior gang for most of his adult life. To me, Kieran is fibbing a half truth when he says he wasn’t close with Colm and he was merely a stable boy. He WAS that, but with being an obedient, hardworking chore boy, he was kept around long enough to make it up little by little till he was on missions out of camp collecting supplies or defending territory/camp. Kieran was always a pawn, never someone Colm actually cared for. Kieran was just the least-annoying gang goon Colm could bring into the mountains to watch the horses in the cold stables. The fact Kieran was even spotted by the VDL gang was bad luck.

I don’t know why he is riding out of the camp solo before Arthur catches him ;-; my best guess would be Kieran was going to meet up with other members but when a fight with the O’Drisc vs VDL broke out in camp, Kieran took it as his chance to get the fuck out of there.

On the topic of getting the fuck out, Kieran didn’t fight as much as he could when Arthur got him, I agree. When his life depends on it, he will fight like a cornered animal, all knife slashing and wild-eyed. Whether Kieran fights or goes limp and pleads pathetically depends on the situation. When Kieran fled from the O’Drisc camp firefight, he knew he wouldn’t last out there unless he got off the mountain. Being snatched and dragged to an enemy camp was better than dying of exposure. I mean… everything in his life sucks. Kieran gets no easy options. Sometimes he just has to go limp and be tied up and see where life brings him.

His relationship with Colm is interesting. I don’t think Colm cares very much about Kieran (keep in mind I don’t actually know Colm’s character well since I haven’t finished the game). From what Kieran describes of him, I feel it was all things Kieran observed or eavesdropped on while doing chores or sitting around the camp. Who knows tho! I am open to the idea that Kieran was of higher rank and indeed had more reasons to talk with Colm directly. I don’t know much about the O’Driscoll gang inner workings.

Ah!! Once again, thank you so much :) I love all your headcanons and it was a blast brainstorming about your ideas.

[wrrrenff]

Our First Valentines

Stardew Valley Elliot x F! reader. Synopsis: You and Elliot have been dating for a few months now. Being the romantic he is, Elliot went all out for the woman he loves of this special holiday. Warning: n/a

Valentine's day was approaching. Everyone with a partner in the valley was practically buzzing with excitement, speculating what plans their loved ones have planned for them and sharing what they themselves have planned. It was sweet. You had never really had a valentines day that was more than a 'fancy' (chili's) dinner and sex right after. Not that you hated that, it just wasn't anything magical. You were very happy to have probably the most loving boyfriend you ever had to spend the holiday with this year. Thinking about your time together, you started preparing you gifts for your man.

In his cabin, Elliot was busy at work making Valentine's preparations. He has always wanted to go above and beyond for his love and now was his chance. How could he not celebrate the greatest person he has ever met? You're the woman who changed his life, became his muse, inspired him to finish his novel! He got up extra early to begin preparing, going as far as to travel to Zuzu City to get supplies for today. After hours and hours of work, it was almost time to pick you up at the farm for the big night. Elliot walked over to his mirror, made some final adjustment to his outfit, and he was off.

Just as you finished up putting yourself together, there was a knock on the door. "Coming!" You put on your shoes and headed to the door. You were greeted with you devilishly handsome boyfriend. He was wearing a play on his normal attire. A sleek red blazer, a white button down, a vibrant green tie that paired nicely with his matching slacks and a pair of dress shoes. As you were taking him in, he was admiring you just as much. You decided you wear a beautifully fitted red dress that showed of all your best assets and a pair white heels that extenuated your legs. He wanted to drink you up, but he resisted like the gentleman he is. "My darling, you look incredible. Like a work of art." He took you hand in his and kissed it leaving you a blushing mess. "You look so handsome my dear." You replied, walking up close to him to give him a proper kiss. Elliot composed himself. You were not making it easy to control himself. He extended his arm to you. "Shall we?" You accepted him arm and you both headed off towards his home.

Arriving to his shack, he leads you in an you notices the lengths he went to celebrate your relationship tonight. Candles decorated the room, flower petals trailing around the room, the table set with a lavish meal, and the ting that impressed you the most, a bouquet of white lilies, apple blossoms, baby's breath, red camellia, honeysuckle, and of course, red roses. Elliot had told you about the language of flowers after researching it for his book. After this, you two would use this language to send each other meaningful messages. You were speechless. You turned to Elliot and captured him in an emotional hug. "You didn't have to do all of this. Thank you so much. I love you." Elliot pull back from the hug and locks his eyes onto yours. "I would walk to the ends of the earth if it would make you smile. This is nothing." You both laughed at his cheesiness.

"Now I feel like my gift to you is dumb." You looked at the ground feeling embarrassed. "You don't have to give me anything princess. You being here is plenty." Before you could worry much more over it, you handed him a carefully wrapped box. He opened it up to reveal a few bottles of squid ink. Now was Elliot's turn to be speechless. You worried he hated it so you started rambling. "I'm sorry. I know it's lame. I just remembered you mentioning when you got to try writing with squid ink but couldn't keep doing it due to the rarity and expense so I thought I'd raise some squid on my farm and-" Before you could realize it, Elliot and set down the gift and captured your lips. The kiss was filled with with so much love and adoration for you. It almost brought you to your knees. "Y/N, this is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. You truly are the best thing to happen to me."

After that, you both headed to the table to eat. You had complimented his cooking, surprised at how good it was considering Elliot claimed to be a terrible chef. Sheepishly, Elliot admitted to having Gus cater your dinner. It didn't matter at all to you though. Just the amount of thought put into the night was enough to solidify this is the man you were meant to spend your life with. The love and care he has shown you time and time again only supported this. After your incredible dinner, Elliot put a record on the vinyl and you two danced for a while. It felt perfect. Everything felt perfect with him. Swaying in his arms, you couldn't imagine anywhere else you'd rather be than here with him.

[stormyweaver]

okay so it's like 5am, and idk why I spent over five minutes trying to come up for a title for this when I remembered it's a fucking stand-alone drabble type... thing. i'll catalog it and everything else on my blog later.

ANYWAY!

This idea wouldn't leave me alone (as a few of you already know, you cuties <3 thanks for listening to my rambling LOL) and I finally had the insomnia-induced drive to finish it. I just think Al and Vox deserve some slice-of-life stuff with sneezy shenanigans thrown in every now and then.

Enjoy!

~~~~~~

“I still don’t get why you dragged me to the fucking Recreational Center of all places. And on a Saturday? Seriously, we could be doing literally anything else right now - y’know there’s an early morning special on hammerhead sharks that I’m missing because of you…”

On and on, and on and… well, Alastor wasn’t sure if he could stand much more whining. At the very least the twitch of his left-eye would soon become permanent if he didn’t put a stop to things soon. 

Thankfully he didn’t have to use actual force, for the signage above their heads read that they had arrived at the correct room. 

Though the moment Vox’s gaze caught onto the flyer posted over the door, he immediately went back to griping. “Cooking-- Cooking class? You signed us up for a fucking cooking class?! What the hell, Alastor?! I literally could be at home if I wanted to learn how to cook!”

The skin beneath his eye jumped once before Alastor whipped his gaze to Vox with a speed that seemed to startle his companion. “Why don’t you tell that to the three separate pans I’ve had to replace due to your abysmal cooking attempts, hm?” It was technically three pans, and one very antique dutch oven. In a show of rare generosity, he had given them to Vox after finding no use for them himself. And regretted the decision entirely. Not to mention that he very nearly burned the kitchen down in one instance. Oh sure, it was Vox’s apartment, but so long as he insisted on having Alastor over for meals, he wasn’t going to be taking any more chances. 

As was expected, Vox pouted and crossed both arms across his chest in a huff. “I already told you, those were shitty quality pans, and–”

“One was cast iron, Vox. You nearly melted a cast iron skillet. Do you have even the slightest notion of how horrendously unskilled one would be in order to manage that?”  No response, aside from Vox’s pout deepening. “That’s what I thought. Now come along, we don’t want to be late!”

– Though Alastor had thought it impossible for Vox to act any more petulant, once the class had started his companion seemed to make it his mission to act like an absolute child for the remainder. While Alastor himself didn’t require any new lessons in the kitchen, he did enjoy the act of cooking far more than anyone else present seemed to. Granted, most were here for their inability to cook but unlike Vox, who was slumped onto their small counter and grumbling about whatever inane show he was missing out on, the rest of the class was actually paying attention and at least attempting to make progress. Curious how even in Hell, sinners were still trying to improve themselves. Well, they did have to eat, Alastor supposed. 

The dish they were working on today was effortlessly simple - scrambled eggs. How in the Nine Circles anyone could manage to muck up this dish was beyond him. Though apparently some had already managed to try by whipping the shells into their mixture, just barely caught by their instructor. 

Alastor tutted, then gazed down at the recipe card in his hand and wrinkled his nose.

Ingredients: 

2 eggs

Salt to taste

Just salt? Well, that certainly wouldn’t do. For a halfway decent scrambled egg, one needed to employ at least pepper - not to mention a few other ingredients he personally utilized to give the scramble a bit more kick. Not needing any permission, he began pulling out the various spices and vegetables he required. Prompted by the movement, Vox had finally stopped his sulking and looked to the array of items with a raised brow. “Why do you have so much out? The recipe only has two ingredients, Al.”

“Ah, so you have been paying attention! Certainly could have fooled me,” His grin widened as Vox glowered at him, “If you’re going to learn how to cook, then you must learn how to cook properly. Certain recipes require a personal touch, my good man.”

Vox snorted. “Was this whole thing just an excuse for you to prove how ‘superior’ your cooking skills are to the teacher?”

When Alastor gave a noncommittal hum, Vox tacked on, “I’ll take that as a yes– wait, cayenne? In eggs? I’ve never–”

“Of course you haven’t, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. You simply can’t have eggs without spice, it’s unheard of! To those with good taste, obviously,” Alastor plucked the small container as Vox watched, unimpressed and definitely uncertain, “Just a dash is all it takes. It really does bring out th–”

Though he’d only used a single claw to tap the small cylinder, he bristled as the top popped off, the dark-red powder pouring out into a heap onto his otherwise cloud-like scramble. Well, fuck.

Vox didn’t even bother trying to hide his amusement, snickering as he gazed at the mishap. “Just a dash, huh?”

“How irksome…” Alastor sighed, but decided there was no use crying over spoilt eggs. While he began prepping another batch, a tentacle rose and deposited the ruined ones into the trash bin beside Vox - a bit too roughly, if the cloud of spice that rose up from its depths was any indication. 

“Jesus, Alastor– kff! Kff! You couldn’t have warned me?!” 

Alastor rolled his eyes, his smile having grown a bit more tense. “Do you mind? I’m attempting to salvage what’s left of his mediocre class, now hush.”

“God, you’re such an a– KFF! A– hahhsshole…” Vox’s voice trailed off into an unsteady gasp, vents bristling as the clouds of spice enveloped them. He tried to get a hold of his breathing, but it continued to sputter out until, with a sharp inhale, he ducked down against his forearm.

“eh’IZZSCHHH!!!” 

The sneeze would have been enough to startle Alastor, and he did twitch a bit from the volume, but what caught his attention was the lights flickering above their heads. That was… unexpected. “eh’IZZSCHH’ue! heh’IZZSCHH’t!” One of the overhead bulbs cracked before shattering, causing a few sinners to yelp in surprise. Alastor’s gaze flickered back to Vox, who was sniffling and rubbing at the center of his screen with a grimace - and a hint of embarrassment. And the small but detectable haziness that signified he still had to–

“Hehhh’hih!! ih’KZZSSCHH!! Fuck, I-I can’t– ‘TZZSCHH!” This time, a sharp current of electricity shot out from Vox’s frame, Alastor nearly missing getting zapped by side-stepping just in time. He could see the energy still skittering along Vox’s trembling shoulders and, judging by how his little mishap had already caused one bulb to break, Alastor wasn’t planning on being responsible for potentially shutting power to the whole building. 

Huffing, he all but yanked Vox by the wrist, and soon the duo were teleported back out onto the sidewalk. Vox staggered forward, still unused to Alastor’s means of travel and fixed him with a watery-eyed glare. 

“Again - a little warning next t– t’hhh’hehh! t-time– hAHH! AH’IZZSSCHHH’HUE!” Unfortunately, Alastor had still been close enough to Vox, and he flinched as he felt the energy course along his arm, prickling his skin, frizzing his hair– oh, that insolent little–

Apparently Vox had already gotten the hint and took a generous step back, palms up in a sign of submission. “S-sorry, I can’t control it!”

“I’m aware,” Alastor ground out, attempting to smooth out his hair, “Was all that really necessary? If you truly wanted to leave, you could have at any time, you realize? Instead of making a spectacle of yourself?” 

“It’s not my fault! That damn spice got into my vents, and- snf! Ugh, it still is, I think… fuck, it itches.” He continued scrubbing at his screen, the middle now saturated a soft but bright pink in contrast to the typical teal. Despite his irritation, it pained Alastor to admit that the sight of Vox sniveling and embarrassed almost made him feel… eugh, sympathy. Almost. 

That inkling of unusual emotion switched to slight panic when he heard Vox’s breath catch again. 

“F-fuck– ehh’heh! hhEH’--NHH!”

The sudden pressure of Alastor’s finger against his screen was almost enough to startle Vox out of his sneeze, and he blinked a few times before heaving a shaky sigh. “I’m… I’m good, now… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Ever.” He emphasized the word with a flash of his demonic form, but Vox’s fear gave way to a deadpan as he watched Alastor wipe the hand he’d touched Vox with along his jacket. “Well, I’m a bit put off from eating at the moment. Still, it is a lovely morning. Perhaps a walk in the park would be suitable for clearing your… vents, hm?”

Vox nodded. “Sure. So long as there aren’t any flowers, I’m all–”

“On second thought, I’m leaving. Ta-ta!”

“Oh come on, Al! I was joking!” It wasn’t like there was actually ragweed in Hell… right?

[lesquatrechevrons]

TCW Multigenerational timeloop AU

@cacodaemonia and @anxiousotters thank you for asking about the AU! 💖💖💖

it’s all because I am fascinated by what kind of societies/communities the clones would foster given the chance, time and space to do so and also because I wonder what happens to those survivors of o66 that we don’t hear about (and have not died T_T). And lastly, because I Am Not Immune To The Grandfather Paradox and how this can play out!

TLDR: surviving clones recover, rebuild their numbers & raise each other in a liminal place away from The War. Things are so every cycle the Oldest Generation will pass away and be reborn as the Youngest; knowledge needs to be taught from generation to generation. No one knows (not even me) if this cycle will break one day, but the clones do understand that every few cycles the stars are in position for them to mess with the GFFA time continuum. Will they? If yes, how? If not, what does this cycle of rebirth mean for the culture they choose to create?

Much longer rambling (and super rough sketches! At the end!) under the cut!

The rambling explanation:  

I have 2 versions in mind:

The one with no legends characters (straight TCWs only), would probably need much ‘hand-wavy’ will of the force: some of the survivors find a pocket of time (inner core planet/sheltered galaxy like exagol that follows its own rules) and ~something~ causes them to be reborn at every cycle; example, you have old Dogma teaching a teenage Boil holding a toddler 99. In 40 years Dogma will be reborn and the cycle begins again. Plus, (vague idea) there is a temporal window that will allow them to ‘come back’ but only in the 10 years before and 10 years after TCW. They (I) don’t know if there are conditions to meet that will break any of their cycles. 

the one with some Legends characters, what they find from the clones genetic research jumpstarts the hope to “fix” the galaxy. They find a remote planet in the inner core, set up embryo batches much like Kamino, raise themselves communally, wait their chance to understand ‘what is their purpose’. I would think Spar is around (instead of dying, sharing Jango’s memories in a sort of ‘Postmortem: what went wrong’), as well as Mereel (given he and the RepComm cast synthesised the cure). And I still like the idea of a time window, except this time is ‘with the power of pettiness, revenge, and this apocryphal force temple I found’ flavour, and it would allow them to mess with the TCW until they get the outcome they want. 

So, my many questions that I am rotating for both AUs are:

In AU #2, which outcome would ‘strategy trained’ classes vs the troopers want for 3 millions of themselves? It would be an occasion to think about how different clone classes (Nulls Alphas CCs CTs etc) think of what ‘fixing’ something is. Also what kind of society do you create if your role is determined by your body type? And if you don’t have external stressors like pure survival, would you allow diversity? Would you level the playing ground by giving new generations access to the same modifications you have?

Would there be non-clones around? (It would be fun if every ‘Window in time’ cycle the clones grab a few key people - and see how they impact things).

In both AUs, if you could learn at the knee of a previous version of yourself, would you still be you? Maybe they have batches of clones eligible to ‘be’ one of ‘the originals’, chosen based on tests (because the early generations all they knew was testing). If you could prevent your future-past self, would you? How would a ‘4th generation Ponds’(from either AU) behave, if it was raised and taught with the experiences by previous versions of himself and the mistakes he made to try and save his men/Mace/Boba?

Would they enforce command top down (as this is all they have known), or would they learn/discover other ways to organise themselves? 

Do you isolate yourself from the galaxy? Or do you live as if one day you will ‘rejoin’ it? And if you think that you need to ‘prepare’ for something, will you? Will you run? Will you allow those that do not want to fight (Slick, Cut), to not to?

NOTE: I realised that I didn’t mention any specific ships or characters because I tend to think in terms of worldbuilding first and this idea is so… formless… I can’t even begin listing of who would drive the narration here. I’m imagining a choral cast because rocks are hewn by hammering them one hundred times, rather than one single hit.

And the… very rough… sketches!! Mistakes abound. As you can tell I’m going for a vibe of ‘teenagers without the canon terrible stressors’.

Wow!! This is so much more than I thought I had to say about this AU! I always get stuck on such big questions that I can’t answer (I am just not a plotter enough to make them a believable story), as well as the sheer mountain of material I need to read (RepComm, the games, so many episodes in TCWs…)(I need 72 hours long days!!!)

but if you have any feedback, or if you want to play in this sandbox, please do feel free to do so!!! <3<3<3 And thank you if you made it this far in my rambles!!

[thecampjuicebox]

Imagine how frustrated Haarlep would be with themself if they legitimately fell for someone. I think that might be the only way to fluster the dirty fiend. Lust and passion and indulgence, they know how to deal with. But love and tenderness and even the smallest inkling of emotional intimacy? I imagine Haarlep wouldn't hate it, just hate that they don't know what to do with it.

I mean, just imagine Haarlep puzzling over someone complementing their wit and just enjoying their company. Imagine Haarlep reacting to receiving aftercare for probably the first time in a long while. Imagine Haarlep receiving a thoughtful gift (like maybe Haarlep off-handedly mentions wanting to pursue a hobby and they later find supplies needed for said hobby gifted to them) with no string attached or any expectation of paying back the gift-giver. I would eat that kind of stuff up as if I were starving.

Anyway, thank you! Sorry for the paragraphs! Rambling over! Bye!

OKAY WAIT

You are truly on to something here. Haarlep fluff is my weakness and I am so so so so so excited to write about it whenever I get the chance. Baby deserves some lovins too!!!! (Might do a few parts to this, but for now I think Tav giving Haarlep a lil bath after sex just sounds so sweet)

Inferno Pt. 1

Pairing: Haarlep (m) x Tav (gn)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

POV: 3rd person

Warnings: Fluff, angst, very light smut, mutual pining, trouble accepting genuine affection, slight game spoilers (this fits in a weird spot canonically)

Chests heave in the throws of passion, sweat and sex mixing into a scent cocktail of epic proportions. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth, Tav and Haarlep ride the waves of their pleasure, completely enraptured by the sounds and heat between them. Frantic thrusts rattle the large bedframe holding the mattress up beneath them, Haarlep's wings creating a protective cocoon around their otherwise vulnerable bodies. It's become a normal occurrence, the two of them. Late nights. Early mornings. Enjoying each others' company and the animalistic fuck sessions they've grown so fond of. With Raphael constantly being busy after the fall of the absolute and Tav finding a new home in the House of Hope, Haarlep searched for newness. For "fresh meat to feast upon in trying times", as he put it originally.

Tongues wrestle for dominance in a display of conflicting power, Haarlep's hips quickening their pace to chase his end. Quiet grunts break through the warm air of the boudoir. Breaking their kiss, Haarlep takes a moment to stare down at Tav, a strange and unfamiliar warmth trickling through his limbs. Strange.. But almost comforting. Tav whispers sweet nothings into the cambion's perked up ears as they both finish and topple over the edge of ecstasy, Haarlep collapsing in his usual way against Tav's tired body. Trembling arms snake around Haarlep's torso as the two attempt to find oxygen once more, gentle fingers dancing along his spine, feeling the rise and fall of each vertebra and ridge on his hot skin. Now they lie there. Quiet. Enveloped in each other like lovers, a concept that is all too foreign to the Incubus. Love. Lust; Haarlep has known for centuries. But love.. Love is so new. So fresh, like a deep bite or the stab of a dagger. Sweet words and caring gestures typically feel like salt in the cuts. Not with Tav, however. Everything feels natural with Tav. Organic and gentle. As he relaxes into the being beneath him, his mind wanders. Their quiet breaths and the thumping of their heart nearly lulls him to sleep. A tired Tav slides their way out of Haarlep's grasp to move toward the bath, the sticky residue of sweat and spend coating their skin in an uncomfortably thick layer.

"Mm, care to join me, Haarlep? I hope it's still warm.. Hells, we're in the Hells.. Of course it's still warm."

Tav chuckles sweetly to themselves, their air of comedic cluelessness forcing Haarlep to crack a smile. The incubus lifts his head, eyes narrowing on the naked elf before him. A bath? How romantic. A shiver rumbles down Haarlep's spine at the thought and he stands, sauntering slowly toward the tub, fingers reaching out to wiggle into the eternally hot water.

"Wouldn't hurt, I suppose.."

The two settle their aching bodies into the water and Tav immediately moves closer to Haarlep, fingers searching the edge of the tub for a bar of soap and a rag. Haarlep's eyes flutter closed and he focuses on the warmth around him. The steam. The scents enveloping his senses. The gentle swish of the hot water as Tav moves about the tub. Why is Tav.. The soft brush of a soapy rag across his chest startles Haarlep from his rest, his hands moving out to quickly guard himself from the assumed intruder of his space. Panic creates a flurry in this chest, pupils blown wide. His wings spread out and fling water out of the sides of the large tub. Tav gasps loudly and takes a step back, teeth clasping down onto their bottom lip, hand barely keeping a firm grasp on the slippery bar of soap they'd used to lather the rag. A mixture of embarrassment and shame paints the saddest expression on their face and Haarlep's fluttering heart falls deep into his stomach.

"What in the Nine Hells were you just doing?"

"I was trying to.. Wash you.. I'm sorry, I-"

Regret settles itself into the crows feet at the corners of Haarlep's eyes. He frowns at the frightened elf, wings settling into the water now after their terrifying display just moments ago. Large hands reach out to Tav's wrists and tug them closer, the bar of soap slipping and falling into the tub, a small splash coating Tav's lashes in water. Haarlep chuckles. A sound Tav hasn't heard in such a genuine manner. Is he upset? Worrisome eyes lower to the rippling water between them. The reflection of Tav's face on the surface forces their eyes closed anxiously. The rag remains clutched tightly between both hands now, suds and bubbles slipping out through the cracks in their fingers and spilling into the water beside them in a mountain of sweet smelling foam.

"Well don't just stand there. Keep going."

Confusion bubbles up in Tav's throat but they oblige, approaching the sleepy cambion with the rag once more. Little swipes clean the mess from Haarlep's chest and he lets out a content sigh. He's never been taken care of this way. He's never been taken care of at all, as a matter of fact. The feeling is both comforting and so disgusting. He lies rigid now, lids blinking as he stares up at the ceiling, his hands carefully resting on Tav's hips to keep them steady in front of him. The rag moves carefully up his neck now. Gentle strokes swipe away the sweat from the night's previous activities. Pausing for a moment, Tav fumbles for the bar of soap. They huff in frustration as it slips comically out of their hands and back into the water multiple times, droplets of water landing all over Haarlep's chest, face, horns, and wings. He grins and swiftly reaches for the bar, sinking his claws into the slippery surface.

"Gotcha!"

Laughter erupts from the two occupants of the tub. Genuine laughter. Tav carefully takes the soap from the incubus's claws, rubbing the rag around its surface to create a soapy lather. Haarlep retrieves the bar once more and sets it on the side of the tub as a precaution, a grin from his previous laughing fit still lingering on his thin red lips. For a moment, all is okay. The normal rumbling in Haarlep's brain is calmed. Soothed, even. The rag moves along his cheeks to clean them off. Tav's free hand moves around the back of Haarlep's head to direct him to look at them.

"Don't want to get soap in your eyes.."

"Yes, that would burn like, well, Hell."

Another sweet giggle leaves Tav's throat and Haarlep could burst into flames right there, leaving nothing but a puddle of floating ash in the tub where he sat. He adores everything about Tav. Their smile, the shape of their body, their sweet voice. Their eyes, Gods, their eyes. Piercing and gentle, staring right through him. Reading him like a rare old Tome. Most importantly, their interest in him. Not his cock. Not what he has to offer in the sheets. Him. Haarlep's claws gently rake down Tav's sides, earning a shaky moan from the elf's parted lips. Their resolve falters for a moment before the rag makes its way toward Haarlep's wings, rubbing gentle circles around the cherry colored leather skin. Haarlep sighs happily, his tail subconsciously wrapping itself around Tav's plush thigh. The tip rubs against their sex, making their knees buckle beneath them. With a swift tug, Tav falls against Haarlep, his hands moving to the globes of their ass now to hold them tightly against his lap, one hand moving to adjust their legs to wrap around him. Their eyes meet, and it's like the room around them catches fire. Sparks, lightning, flames, all igniting at once. Haarlep's stomach turns.

The unfamiliar feeling rises up again. It burns in his belly. Snakes its way through his arms and legs. Tingles like Weave in his spinal cord. He clears his throat, pressing even further into Tav while his tail continues the slow back and forth friction against them. The sounds he earns from the specimen against him just fuels his fire and he sinks his teeth into the top of their shoulder, little rivulets of blood pooling in the indentations he left there. With a grin, he licks the broken flesh. Tav writhes in his arms in excitement, reaching their arms up to give Haarlep's horns a gentle tug backward, forcing his gaze to fall upon their needy expression. With a huff, the incubus licks his lips, eyebrows knitting together apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I can't help myself.."

"You don't have to. Not with me.."

[eddiegettingshot]

okay. mourning s1-s4 tim minear anon here. just finished my season 3 rewatch and ohhhhh boy oh boy. honestly I could write so much about that finale alone because s6 and s7 have made me forget what a good finale can be (athough I will say that the s3 finale has me thinking a wholeeee bunch of insane things about the s7 finale like buddie things and how the writing choices are were insane (complementary) that I will not elaborate on here because Im already rambling too much about how good s3 is). but genuinely all the character arcs were SO GOOD this season its insane. athena (hate the copaganda here but the general emotional journey with athena and athena/may): establishing what being a cop means to her -> showing that not even the murder of her fiance could sway her from policing and finally arresting the man that did it -> experiencing something traumatic first hand that makes her question her ability to do the job again. and then may: hating what her mom does, going as far as to write her college essay about it, then insisting on taking the pictures with her mom for prom despite her injuries from policing/not being ashamed of her. and also appreciating it to the point of also wanting to help people but as an acab truther pursuing a different way of doing it (911 operator. also imagine they made may a cop thank god that didnt happen lmao). michaels feeling of loneliness and isolation leading up to his diagnosis, then ending the season by meeting his endgame and knowing he gets to live. buck starting the season being insecure about losing his place with the 118 and being the person left behind again and ending the season confronting the last person who left him + feeling secure in his relationships with the 118. bobby's refusal to let buck do anything at the beginning of the season due to his injury + general recklessness vs doing buck's suggested rescue to save both victims. both the henren IVF/fostering arc AND the hen arc were great and thank god because the henren of it all was seriously lacking before this season. but hitting the girl with the ambulance -> reconnecting with her first rescue -> introducing her issues with Drs and their ability to listen and help patients to their full ability -> pursuing med school SO GOOD. and remember when madney used to get character arcs UGHH soooo good. developing chim + his mom/albert/his dad more. having maddie actually confront what happened with doug via therapy (btw maddie stalker plot good example of how to do an insane storyline well!!). this leading into the love confession and also the conclusion/start to the pregnancy arc they set up in !!! episode 1 !!! them not just dropping the josh arc completely after the heist trauma he suffered and seeing it through to a satisfying conclusion. and like I do have one nitpick in hindsight like the eddie arc was so good up until he got caught in the fighting ring and he cried about the divorce and then it was just never brought up again in favour of doing the mini chris stories in 3x10/3x12/3x15. like you literally had a chance to address and conclude eddie's mourning shannon arc in eddie begins or the episodes surrounding that and just didnt LMAO idk maybe they had plans and it got scrapped for the buck/red/abby arc because connie agreed to come back because really it was the only thing that did not feel concluded relative to literally every other character arc this season. anyways where is this tim. TIM WAKE UP!!! come back and give your characters arcs!!! one thing that is super obvious from rewatching the early seasons is there is still SO MUCH interesting stuff to explore with these characters!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am begging please give eddie a story with a satisfactory conclusion please give maddie and chim stories please stop torturing hen and karen via fostering/adoption please conclude a buck plot in satisfactory fashion please have bobby and athena explore his past properly please make ravi a main

ohhhh my god THIS MADE ME MOURN S3 TOO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 what the fuck COME BACK TIM 😭😭😭😭😭 i want him BACK 😭😭😭😭😭