#and i'm still not entirely sure i'm happy with the result

[thatgoddamngingerundercut]

BTS Memories 2016: Making of Blood Sweat & Tears MV Jin and V

[topaztimes]

Hi this is a vent post! Continue scrolling if you'd rather not see that

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

red wine | f. odair

masterlist

summary: you and finnick spend the evening together at a party in president snow’s mansion. hidden feelings reveal that things are much more complicated than they seem.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: alcohol use, mentions of alcoholism, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, minor angst

notes: i'm really proud of how this one turned out. someone better enjoy it.

word count: 1.3k

The entire room was buzzing, a party at Snow’s Mansion in full swing. People were chatting, laughing, and dancing, and yet all Finnick could focus on was you. Your rosy smile. Your sparkling eyes. Your laugh that rang like a perfectly pitched bell. He had never heard anything more harmonic.

Drunk on sweet red wine, your head fell back with every word that left his mouth. His natural wits and humour only seemed to heighten your amusement.

“…such a liar!”

“No, I’m serious,” Finnick urged, grinning. “Go look if you don’t believe me.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but you couldn’t stop. After winning the 70th Hunger Games, you thought happiness was something impossible to regain. Many visits to the Capitol resulted in you meeting the famous Finnick Odair, who, over the course of many months, had gained your friendship and showed you that light could still be found in the darkness that was being a Victor.

“Fine, Finnick. I believe you—President Snow has cats dressed in little white suits running around his mansion.”

“Thank you!”

You weren’t sure how you ended up talking about Snow’s cats. You weren’t sure when the wine had seeped into your brain, making the subject so irrationally hilarious. All you knew was that it didn’t matter what Finnick was talking about. What mattered was that he was talking about it with you.

Throughout the night, all types of women had thrown themselves at him. Beautiful women. Old women. Women who were surgically enhanced to resemble animals. But he rejected them all to stay by your side. Another girl came swooping in, asking him for a dance. She was incredibly attractive, her eyes dark and sultry, her hair pin-straight and hanging at her waist.

Her ensemble was entirely made out of fur that clung to her body, complementing the whiskers that were embedded in her face which made her look feline. You thought for certain he would whisk her away.

But once again, he proved you wrong.

His hand fell on your hip, pulling you into his side. “Sorry, honey. I’ve already got a dancing partner tonight.”

That sobered you up a little.

The woman pouted, her whisker implants drooping as she left in the opposite direction.

You glanced nervously at the large hand still cupping your hip before looking back up at Finnick. “I am not dancing in front of these people.”

“Why not? You’re a great dancer.” He smirked. “Remember that time I walked in on you dancing in one of the bathrooms? That thing you were doing with your hips?” He blew out a breath of air.

Warmth flooded your cheeks. That had been the first time you met Finnick. You were a borderline alcoholic back then, having just become a Victor and all. Still, dancing in a bathroom was tough. Having the Capitol’s heartthrob catch you was even tougher.

“You know, your face is almost as red as that gorgeous dress you’re wearing,” he teased.

Everyone at the party was weighed down with extravagant and obnoxious attire which, to Finnick, resembled aliens trying to impersonate human fashion. But not you though. You wore a simple floor-length silk dress that was the colour of blood. There was nothing remarkable about the gown, yet Finnick found it to be the loveliest thing he had ever seen—a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else’s ridiculous artificial outfits. Or maybe it was just the person wearing it that made him feel this way.

You hiccupped. “I’m just trying to achieve the monarchy look.”

He shook his head, still grinning. “You mean the monochromatic look?” Your expression morphed into one of puzzlement as if you were trying to figure out the secrets of the universe. Finnick chuckled, swiping his thumb across your warm cheek. “Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart. You’re very drunk.”

“Only a little.”

He watched as your eyes closed, swaying on your feet. There was a small smile on your face, seemingly absorbing the lively atmosphere around you. The thumping music; the sound of laughter, and the warmth of alcohol buzzing in your brain. If the entire room weren’t swarming with his customers and the President’s guards, he probably would have kissed you. And if you were in your right mind, he probably would have confessed his feelings too.

Too many variables worked against him. So, instead, he cleared his throat and said, “Maybe you should call it a night. Before you end up in the bathrooms again.”

You laughed, eyes opening again. He laughed with you, but your drunken mind failed to notice the deep affection his gaze suddenly held. A lot of things had slipped past you that night. If only you had seen them; things between the two of you would be so much more different. Less complicated. More true.

Finnick helped you gather your things, shooing away every man who asked to take you home on your way out. Somewhere along the way, his hand had interlocked with yours. This you noticed. The wine only seemed to enhance the butterflies fluttering around your stomach. It sent sparks up your arm, beginning in your fingertips which rested between his knuckles.

Eventually, he had successfully assisted—half-carried—you down the palace steps and into the backseat of your ride home.

“Don’t get into any trouble without me, Finnick Odair,” you said, looking up at him from your seat.

His dimples grew deep with a genuine smile, dishevelled hair blowing in the soft night wind. He rested a hand on the door. You wished he would step into the car with you.

Once more, he gently brushed his thumb against your cheek. “Never without you, sweetheart.”

A subtle confession. And then the door shut.

Finnick watched the taillights fade into the dark as you disappeared down the long driveway. Gone. Until the next party, that is. Or maybe even before then, if he finally gathered up the courage to convince you to flee Panem with him. Only then would he be free to pursue his feelings for you.

Johanna, who had been threatened into coming to the party by the President, found Finnick at the bottom of the palace steps, solemnly staring into the darkness. She stepped beside him. He didn’t seem startled; he barely even noticed her presence.

“You okay?” she asked flatly. When Finnick said nothing, she tried again. “You two looked friendly tonight.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked. Was it that obvious? Who else noticed?

“Johanna,” he finally acknowledged her existence. “If I asked you to put an axe in my head, would you?”

“Not that I wouldn’t be happy to do so, but why, may I ask?”

His hard-set lips quirked at the question. Why? Shades of red flooded his mind like an open floodgate. Crimson of a silk dress. Cherry of painted lips. Pink of blushing cheeks. All of which flowed through his red-blooded veins and straight into his heart.

Laughter in the tune of a perfected melody echoed in his ears, the image of a beaming smile accompanying it. Then there was the voice, “Don’t get into any trouble without me, Finnick Odair.” He hung onto every word that voice spoke. All the philosophical thoughts it had spoken aloud; the nonsensical wine-drunken babbling, and the gentle whispers that longed for a simpler life which he had the honour of being trusted with. Your voice. Your words.

Everything that made you who you were—that was the answer to Johanna’s question. The reasoning behind Finnick’s next words.

“I’m in love with her.”

Surprise briefly flickered across Johanna’s features, then returned to their usual monotony state. “Well… that’s not good.”

“No,” he spoke, his eyes lingering on the ominous white roses that lined either side of the driveway. “It’s not.”

part two

[tblsomedoodles]

Here's an art/info dump about this stupidly cute idea that's been rotating in my brain for three day.

(the first comic here is just how they first met. they ended up in the same alley, pestering the same cat without noticing. Then the cat left and they notice they're not alone lol)

(Second is Donnie 'talking' with Mikey for the first time. He only uses Mind Mend to communicate and is just as surprised as Mikey to find it worked on him. (it has only worked with Leo before this))

I'll put the rest under a break b/c i will be going off about this and i don't want it to take up your entire feed.

I'm jokingly calling this "Mikey's Imaginary Friends" though that might change if i continue this.

Basically it's this, the twins grew up with Draxum while Raph and Mikey grew up with Splinter. Neither set knew about the other (b/c splinter though they were dead and didn't want his two remaining kids to worry about it, and Draxum was too focused on fixing his lab to pay much attention to the twins.) So, imagine Mikey's shock when, at age 8, he's out exploring topside (having snuck out) and runs into two more mutant turtles (who also snuck out and are exploring.) Thus begins an ongoing sneaking out to meet up thing between the three b/c Mikey's excited to have new friends and the twins are just as fascinated with Mikey as he is with them.

And before you ask, "hey, why doesn't Mikey tell his family about the two other turtles?" he does. Raph thinks he just made up some imaginary friends so he plays along but doesn't believe they're real. Splinter, on the other hand, thinks he's talking to Hamato ancestors due to some very big miscommunications (that i'll probably draw out at some point b/c it's silly)

Twins background wise, i'm still thinking through a lot of it, but i'll put my thoughts down anyways.

Draxum knew that training the twins at a young age would be counterproductive, so he doesn't train them beyond some basics a few times a week. Other than those sessions, he leaves them alone with their less-than-stellar caretaker, in favor of rebuilding his lab. The caretaker doesn't do much for them beyond give them food and very basic school like lessons. Beyond that the twins are left on their own.

they come to the conclusion that the only people that will care for them is themselves. They discover Mind Meld very early as a result of this and will not talk verbally b/c they found out early on with their caretaker, that if they tried to talk, they were just ignored anyways, so what's the point.

(I'm also thinking Donnie might be deaf or hard of hearing in this, with the pair of them using Mind Meld as a way for him to temporarily hear through Leo and thus keep Drax from finding out. but i'll have to do some more research before i decide for sure/figure out the specifics)

as for Meeting Mikey

That's why they became so fascinated with mikey. B/c mikey was the first person that treated them like a person and not a job or an incomplete experiment. (He's also so happy and bright, they can't avoid getting drawn to him lol)

Mikey's probably the only one they verbally start talking to, even after they teach him mind meld. (though Leo's the one to pick up on that more than Donnie. Donnie doesn't do much talking at all outside mind meld).

They also come out of their shells (hehe) a lot as they interact more with Mikey. Before they met him, they acted more like automatons, even when alone. The more they socialize with Mikey, the sillier these two get. Leo learns about puns and starts going mad with them, Donnie starts happy stimming about thing (which he has either been suppressing or just never had the urge to do before.) Basically they stop acting like little creepy statues and start acting like kids.

Honestly, it's just a cute idea with the kiddos meeting each other and Mikey inadvertently socializing his not-well-socialized brothers.

(also, the twins wear masks b/c Donnie doesn't like the smell of the city and he's worried about germs. Not for any ninja reasons, what so ever.)

Alright, that's it for my info dump. maybe more later? Maybe not? Depends on how much longer these kids keep my attentions (though right now, they're doing a pretty good job at it lol)

[counterpunches]

source

Caption:

[[@else: I suppose it's time to tell my abortion story. Of the abortion that didn't happen, that led to me.

A lot of anti-abortion people put words & thoughts into the mouths of the unborn.

Well, I'm one that was recommended to stay unborn, who got born, and here's what I say.

My mother found our very early in her pregnancy that there was an extremely high risk to her if she continued.

Terminating the pregnancy was floated by one of the doctors. It would have been legal due to the risk to her, but heavily stigmatized.

Her family was deeply Catholic. She was deeply Catholic.

She did not terminate. The risk became a reality.

So I'm here, and she's not.

I'm glad to be here.

It is hard to put into words the gratitude you feel to a mother who sacrificed herself entirely for you, and I'm not going to try here.

Because I'm also very angry.

Without in any way taking away from the courage and selflessness with which she bore her situation and which she showed in all aspects of her life

I don't believe she ever really felt like she had a true choice.

The stigma, the religious dogma, the judgement - everything she'd ever known - told her she could not save her own life.

Her parents would have, however sadly, believed she'd go to hell. Her family and friends and community would have judged her.

Everyone she'd ever loved believed it was wrong. And so she believed it was wrong.

Needlessly.

I don't know what choice she would have made if it had been a true choice.

Maybe she would have chosen me anyway. Maybe she would have chosen to stay for her two already-existing children and for all those who loved her so deeply.

But she should have had a real, true choice.

Would I trade being here for that?

In a heartbeat. Without hesitation.

My siblings could have grown up with their mother.

My grandparents could have seen their beloved daughter live out her beautiful life, instead of mourning her every day until their deaths.

Her brothers and sisters would not still thirty years later feel the pain of losing the sistre they loved so much.

She could have continued to bring the light to the world that she had always brought, that I have heard so much about.

My father perhaps would not have descended into the grief & guilt that destroyed him, our relationship with him, the innocence of our childhoods.

Now, I think about how my young nieces & nephews will grow up without her, without the kind of grandmother I had. That pains me too.

I grew up in the devastation of her death.

I've watched the consequences of it play out for thirty years.

I can see what might have been differently if she'd had a true choice and it snatches my breath away, to see the suffering that didn't have to be for the ones I love most.

I know that it is not my family, but it is also profoundly difficult to know that it is because of me.

Or to be more exact, because the world did not allow my mother her right to a true choice, and my being here is perhaps a result of that.

It's not a burden I'd wish on anyone

I wish that I could have told her. It's okay. Stay. Live. Be happy.

I wish I could know that she knew that that was more than ok.

Don't I want to be here? Don't I want to be alive, aren't I glad to live??

Now that I'm here, sure. But had I never been, what would I have lost? Nothing.

You can't miss what you never had. Can't lose anything when you never existed.

There's no pain or loss in not existing.

I didn't exist then, to want anything. I didn't exist to hope or wish or fear anything.

I didn't exist back then. Not me. There was a possibility. An idea, a hope maybe. Some cells, a process in her body. Not me, any more than a sperm was me or an egg was me.

*I" didn't become until much later. Til I was born.

My mother wouldn't have taken anything from me or cause me any pain by living for herself, because I didn't exist to lose anything.

There was so much pain, so much loss in losing her. Loss that will ripple down generations.

So I will say to my dying breath, as the person who only lives because she didn't abort, that whatever she thought or chose or did not chose, she should have had a real choice to abort.

That she should have felt that aborting me was valid and good a choice as not.

Everyone should feel that, and have real access to enact that choice without obstruction or shame or question.

Whether it is their actual life at risk, or not. A forced pregnancy can be the death of many things, not just the end of ther person's life.

Having me took away from the world everything that my mother could have given it.

Forcing someone to have a child against their will can take away what that person could be and bring if they had their choice, whether they live through the pregnancy or not.

Most of all it takes away their right - their inalienable right - to choose how they live their life in their own body.

A non-person, a hypothetical future event, the birth of someone who doesn't exist yet, doesn't have that right.

Other people, who claim to speak for the unborn do not have that right.

We all lose so much by it. It can cause such pain and suffering, for child-bearers, for children, for everyone.

Do not pretend to speak for the unborn.

Do not pretend to speak for the children born against their mother's will.

Do not pretend that you care for them while you hide misogyny behind dogma.

My mother deserved her right to a real choice.

Everyone does. Unconditionally.

As the child who could have been aborted, I tell you - to oppose that right, let alone work to criminalize it, is unforgivable.

I'd like to emphasize because I didn't say it loud enough in the original thread:

There doesn't need to be a tragic story or a threat to life to make abortion ok.

It can be simply because you don't want to have a child. That's all. You still have the right to a choice.

I told my sad story because:

a) it is important to me to counter the rhetoric of anti-choice folks, that claims that if the unborn could speak they would be anti-choice

b) forced pregnancies can really f*ck up lives in many ways and that needs to be recognized.

But:

There shouldn't have to be a tale of woe to justify bodily autonomy.

It's a right. An absolute right. It should be protected by law.

That's it. That's all.

Last thingL I want this point to be heard, but I don't particularly want to deal with blowing up on twitter.

I will probably lock my account down at some point, but I would like this still to be shared. Maybe use an unroll app and share from there if you would like to.]]

[embers-of-the-oldest-lore]

@photomatt So I've noticed that you and the tumblr moderation team at large seem to view trans women as inherently sexual and in violation of the sites community guidelines by virtue of existing and before you start crawling through my side blogs and find That I do in fact have some content that is not tagged as well as it should be to remain in line with the strictest interpretation of the community guidelines on my sideblog, please know that I understand this and have come to terms with the fact that making this post will result in you taking advantage of this and removing my side blog and likely my primary blog as well.

However before you do this, I want to make sure that you have a full understanding of what you will be removing and in a grander sense what you have destroyed either through negligence or intentional malice by unfairly moderating Trans women on this website and allowing their harassers to thrive.

The girl in this picture was young and scared and trying so hard to be the man that she was supposed to be even though It meant pushing down a part of herself that was more real than anything she had ever actually lived before.

But then she found tumblr and was exposed to experiences like hers and people like her and was able to slowly become herself for the first time in her life. She had a joy and peace on this website that she would never be able to find in her real life.

It took time but eventually that joy and peace and freedom and exposure to so many other scared girls like her gave her the ability to finally admit she didn't have to or want to be the man that her family expected her to be. This is the last picture of her before she finally stopped giving up.

And it didn't happen all at once

There were problems, and stumbling blocks

But she had this site to come back to and find community and joy and she finally had herself

And now she's free and happy and full of so much joy.

She is so full of Love, and happiness, joy, and compassion for herself and the people around her

She lived and thrived and still finds so much joy in this community that saved her life.

I have found love, and kindness, and partners and friends on this hellsite. Most importantly I found a community. One that you would see destroyed. I know you don't actually care about any of this. You don't care about the unfair moderation on this site. You don't care about the trans women that are desperate for community. I don't think this is going to change your mind either. If I exist to you at all, it's only as a nuisance. You're just going to find some excuse to wipe my entire existence on this site that I have called home for twelve years away.

But i'm not really doing this for you.

I'm doing this because I hope that before you have the chance to wipe every trace of my exsistence from this website that some other girl that is just as scared as I was when I joined this community is able to see that there is hope, that things do in fact get better and that we can thrive and find family and a community. Part of me hopes desperately that Tumblr can continue to be a place for scared girls like I was and an even smaller part of me believes that this might find some place in your heart and take hold. But even if it doesn't, we will always find community. We will always find a place where we can become ourselves and find love and happiness and safety with people like us.

And to that scared girl

It gets better

I promise

: Your sister

[tomiyeee]

donnie had. SO. much concept art lol. i really enjoyed the whole design process though. his base design is very difficult to work with because of the battleshell, but it gave me a lot of chances to get creative and i'm happy with the results :)

(also as a disclaimer so i don't get asked about this: i don't have motivation to finish raph or the wish art for donnie, so i'm just posting what i've got)

i didn't annotate these as much since there'd be a lot to write, but i'll write out some of my thought processes and go into some detail about his final design below the cut if you're interested! (it's long. i'm talkative 😔)

1st row - first iteration; much more literal 1:1 translation of his design into a fantasy setting. very steampunk-y. ended up completely scrapping it because, simply put, he looked more like an npc than a playable character. obviously, several features did still carry over throughout the design process :3 also wanted to imagine his attack pattern cuz i thought it'd be fun to incorporate his spider arms.

this was actually the first design of any of them i'd come up with! i've definitely learned a lot about genshin's character design style since then and i think it shows 😂

2nd row - playing around with the idea of a floating battleshell (rather than a backpack-like one in the the show & first version), inspired by nahida's cape. also hard light constructs/attachments. was leaning too into the sci-fi and rectangular motifs with the design, but i liked the idea.

3rd/4rth rows - concepts for his final outfit and shell designs (the colored/more-detailed pics are the more finalized ones). took a lot of inspiration from sumeru this time around. it's a lot sharper, shinier, and less rectangular than his og aesthetic, but i think it's more in-line with genshin's design philosophies.

5th row - not entirely sure why i went through all the trouble of making a 3d model for this. i mostly just thought it'd be fun and good for reference. i was right, but i don't know what to do with it now lol. can't be bothered to be a perfectionist about it though, so don't look too closely at it 😭

6th row - incomplete thumbnails of his burst/wish art. not super sold on that "wing" design in particular, but i do like the idea of his shell splitting and deploying hard light weapons/rocket launchers/etc sort of like in canon.

battleshell/misc notes - i'm thinking his battleshell is controlled using the pink sensor on the back of his coat, possibly in combination with his headset. it floats behind him by default and is sturdy enough to protect his back, but he can also freely fly it around like a drone if he wants. the holes on the side are mainly for the spider arms and the banners(?) and handles(?) with the blue/pink gradient are made of hard light and only appear when the shell is in use.

i imagine like in the series, his tech here isn't necessarily very reliant on his vision/powers; much of it he likely made himself long before he received a vision and he just uses his vision to enhance it.

his burst is a barrage of missiles from his shell that lock onto an enemy and deal a large burst of electro damage in an AOE. not sure if i want his skill to be a deployable or some sort of electro-infusion/boost 🤔 maybe something that involves deploying his shell to boost his damage while leaving him vulnerable, like a glass canon? though i'm not sure he'd be that sort of risk-taker... 😅 dunno! his signature weapon would totally be his tech bo though.

that's about all i can think of. thanks for reading!

[ganem-ouchie]

We're three if we count the devil. And we can always count him.

Reused a concept of a drawing from a month or so ago, and somehow I'm still not entirely happy with the result. If I end up doing a third redraw just love me for who I am/j

[ Old vs new comparison under the cut]

Oh gee oh boy it sure,, desaturated, (dont mind the stag it just likes to be included 🥰🥰)

[celaenaeiln]

Hello, hello! It's been a while!!! Hope you're well. I had this hc about how Batfam is susceptible to manipulation, but only if it's Dick doing it. Like the blind faith he commands, there will literally get everyone ready to get him what he wants without him actually having to do anything. Like of anyone asks for a reason: "Dick said so". That's enough.

Just wanted your opinion on this

Omg hello!!! It’s been so long!! I’m so happy to hear to hear from you again 😆💕❤️!!

Hc that Bruce being completely susceptible to all of Dick’s manipulations due to the sheer faith he has in him? ABSOLUTELY!!

It’s so friggin true I’m pretty sure this is borderline canon if not canon already!!

Because here’s the thing: from the dawn of Batman comics to now, through all the changes that have occurred, there has only been one thing that remains constant and that is the fact that Bruce trusts Dick unconditionally.

There are MULTIPLE scenarios where Bruce confides solely in Dick and he actually worries heavily when his only companion leaves:

The Brave and Bold (1955) Issue #197

"My only real friends know me as Batman...Dick, Alfred, Kathy Kane...except..what do I do when Dick graduates college...and Alfred retires...and Kathy gives up being Batwoman? What do I do...when I'm finally alone?"

Bruce...that's a whole lot of pressure and expectation to put on a kid a decade younger than you..

But the point still stands because Bruce needs Dick. In the beginning of the Batman comics, there wasn't even Alfred around. It was just Dick and Bruce and they lived in an entire mansion together by themselves and had dual responsibilities of Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne as well as Batman and Robin. It was quite literally only the two of them in their own world. They went on adventures you wouldn't believe and had things happen beyond people's wildest imaginations. The Golden Age was a fever dream that encompassed only the two of them. They didn't have anyone else and they didn't want anyone else.

Dick pulled Bruce out of one of the worst times of his life when he was just Robin and Bruce pulled Dick out of depression during his. This resulted in a unbreakable bond. It's a deep kind of unshakable, irreplaceable love and profound trust that they have in each other that the other will only and always be there for them in the worst of times of their lives and the happiest of ones as well.

It's that kind of devotion and attachment to each other that established their relationship for decades. Every single timeline has consistently kept this - "You're my only one." - kind of relationship between the two of them.

Batman (2011) Issue #2

Bruce knows that of everyone he's ever met, Dick will always be the one to know him and hear him.

There's another comic panel that stuck out to me too-

Titans (2008) Issue #1

"No one knows about them except Bruce, Alfred, Tim. Barbara knows about a few. And ofcourse me."

Bruce only trusts three people - Alfred, his current robin, and Dick.

So consistently and unconditionally, it only comes down to two people at ALL times. For another example, during Death Metal, when the entire Justice League is hunting down Batman and the Batfamily, Bruce would only entrust the deadliest weapon in the world to one person and the entire league knows it.

Dark Nights: Metal Issue #2

Bruce just has pure faith in Dick for everything. He is the one person that Bruce believes will never do any wrong and he's the one person he always believes and believes in. Period.

Titans: Beast World Issue #1

Whatever Dick decides, it's the final word.

So that is why Dick is the only person Bruce is susceptible to. He never questions Dick in the comics ever. He's questioned every single person he's ever worked with about their intentions but never Dick. So Dick tells him the world is ending then the world is ending for Bruce.

If Dick tells him that red is an awful tie color, then it's an awful tie color that Bruce will never wear.

If Dick tells him to slick his hair back, take a break, be more compassionate, have faith - Bruce will do anything and everything. And this has been proven time and time again for the most menial situations to the most serious ones.

While everyone looks up at Bruce for answers and orders, Bruce will look to Dick and what he says, that's what they'll all do.

And here's the thing - the entire superhero community doesn't rely just on Bruce for commands, Dick is shown to have an equal weight. A single person has the equivalent weight of the Justice League. They will do what Dick says regardless of what Bruce says.

But the point is Bruce's utter faith in Dick gives him privileges. Anything and everything Dick decides, that's the answer, logic, and light of very reasoning to Bruce because Dick is the very source of existence for Bruce. In Forever Evil he almost let the world die intentionally because he felt that there was nothing to the world if he couldn't save Dick. At times he's fought Dick over his personal choices but every single time, without fail, he comes back literally two issues later to tell him sorry and you're right and we're going to do it your way.

Dick could let the world burn to fucking ashes and Bruce would stand by and clap and praise him. That time in the Blockbuster arc? Where Dick passively killed a man and started self-harming? Bruce roughly grabbed his face, got real close, and told him in his darkest voice that he doesn't give a flying fuck who dies or who Dick kills. As long as Dick doesn't dare hurt himself.

Dick can tell Bruce anything he ever wants, lie or truth, big or small, and Bruce will believe it with no doubts and no questions asked. That is the weight of his faith in him. Of course if someone does ask why he chose to do something a certain way? He can just say, "Because Dick said so." And as you called it, that answer alone will be enough. For everyone.

Don't be fooled by Dick's submissiveness to Bruce's commands. Bruce is holding him by the neck, but he's holding Bruce's leash just as tightly.

[hells-wasabii]

A/N: So Side Order is fun, but I've been reminded that I totally suck at skill based games. But yeah! This was absolutely written for my own self-indulgence. Nothing more to say, really. Not that often where i write the reader taking the lead, but eh Anywho, enjoy, or don't, up to you

Character: Velvette

Type: Fic (Velvette x fem!reader, Fluff, Spice)

Warning: This isn't fully NSFW, but it is spicy, so I'm still gonna put it below a cut!

An early morning ambiance filled the kitchen. The sound of the coffee machine brewing a fresh pot for the two of you just feet away. There was a nice little drone of music from the speaker on the counter, some softer song that you couldn’t remember the name of at the moment. But honestly, who could blame you? Right now, however, your mind is far more focused on more important things.

You were like putty in her hands, she knew it, you knew it, and you both knew the other knew it too. But there was no denying the fact that she was also putty in yours.

The kisses had started as nice and slow as the morning itself had. You were perfectly content taking your time there in the kitchen. The overlord’s lips were honestly like a drug. You really couldn’t get enough. Plump and soft, and all yours too. 

Only, much to your dismay, Velvette began to pull away. You hoped the little displeased sound you made was enough to convey said disappointment.

“Babe,” You offer a hum in response, chasing after her lips, trying for just one more kiss as she pulls away. Your eyes flutter open, finding the influencer staring back, eyes half-lidded and clouded with lust. Oh. You could practically feel the heat pooling in your belly at the sight. 

“Fuck, Imma need you to kiss me like you mean it.” Velvette all but growled out, she really did have a habit of being impatient, didn’t she? Oh, but when the tables were turned, the overlord had no issue with dragging things out if only for the hell of it. You start to open your mouth to throw back a retort, but the influencer is quick to shut that down.

She yanks you closer by the collar of your shirt, a gasp leaving your lips before she reclaims them in a fervent kiss. You were quick to return the kiss in kind. Teeth clanking together did little to deter either of you.

And suddenly there’s a hand slipping beneath your shirt, trailing up your side. Fuck, the way the overlord dragged blunted nails up your ribs, her hand purposefully brushing the swell of your breast before making its way back down. You couldn’t help but gasp, giving the overlord ample opportunity to slip her tongue in, more than happy to reexplore the already charted territory. 

You let your hands leave their place on hips, your fingertips grazing the fabric of her shorts as your hands trailed past the hem. You relished the way she shivered as a ghost of a touch trailed along the smooth expanse of thigh that lay beyond. Hooking your hands behind her knees, in one swift movement, you had lifted her onto the counter. Velvette responded in kind, wrapping her legs around your waist to keep you in place. You could swear that you felt the influencer roll her hips as she did so.

One of your hands soon found its way into her hair. You gave a gentle tug and the resulting moan was music to your ears. Fuck, your heart was absolutely pounding away in your chest. You weren’t entirely sure you’d be able to stop yourself from letting things escalate right there in the kitchen. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time, either. It wasn’t until Velvette nipped at your bottom lip that you realized just how deep you were in.

Ah, so it was escalating, escalating. Well, this is certainly one way to start a morning off, you thought.

You break the kiss, instead choosing to press a kiss to her cheek, an action that makes the influencer’s cheeks shift in a smile. Oh how infectious it was, you thought as you continued on. Soon your lips met the overlord’s neck, leaving a trail of opened-mouthed kisses and bites. Sucking on  with the full intent of leaving behind marks. You made a mental note to admire your work later when the little blotches formed properly. And just as things were really starting to get interesting, the both of you were promptly interrupted by the sudden buzzing from the front pocket of Velvette’s pants.

That damn phone. Whatever it was, was it really more important than this? 

“Ignore it,” you whispered against her lips, and you could feel the smirk she gave in response. You let it give you the smallest shred of hope that she’d do just that. But in reality, you knew better. Really, you weren’t surprised, nor even truly upset when Velvette pulled back just enough to whip out her phone to see the caller ID.

“Fucking Vox.” Velvette hissed, scowling down at the cellular device. Message after message popped up on the screen, not only from Vox but Valentino as well. You swore under your breath, and just like that that little shred was gone. Oh, you could kill those two. Velvette It was unbelievably tempting not to move, just to keep the influencer pinned on that countertop, but that would hardly be fair, now would it? After all, it wasn’t her fault that ��Vox and Valentino could barely handle shit themselves’ as she had so eloquently put it. 

So, begrudgingly, you pressed a final kiss to black-stained lips before beginning to pull away. Only the overlord followed your lips, recapturing them with her own. This one was slower than the kiss before, and you recognized it for exactly what it was. A promise of more to come later. This time when you parted, you were able to pull back to allow Velvette to slide off the marble countertop, admittedly in a bit of a haze, your cheeks flushed. Using her phone camera, the influencer took a moment to check her makeup. Luckily it wasn’t too bad, nothing deserving of a touch-up, at least.

“We’ll continue this later, pretty girl.” Offering one last peck to your cheek, the overlord grabbed her keys from the counter. With a little show of blowing a kiss and a wink, Velvette turned towards the door, her hips swaying as she went.

Positively unfair, was what it was. 

You swore that one of these days you’d kill that television man yourself if he continued interrupting the two of you like this. At least you had the satisfaction of knowing that Velvette would lay into him the moment she walked through the doors of the Vee Tower.

[savannahsdeath]

SOCCER!ELLIE WILLIAMS X CHEERLEADER!READER

PART 3THREE

part 4four

part 2two

mdni please<3

summary: ellie hoped to get her reward even though she didn't win the match, but someone really looked forward to ruin her plans, and potentially, change your whole life

warnings: i think its minors safe?? mentions of cheating tho !!

writers note: meow meow its a short chapter again plus everything happens pretty fast cuz im impatient🩷

you watched as the both teams shook hands, acknowledging the game's conclusion and the tie.

ellie ran over to you and the other cheerleaders, smiling. she looked exhausted, but she was still happy to see you.

"you know, i could still use that kiss." she joked.

"but you didn't win." you smirked, handing her your water.

you remembered how just yesterday you hated her for taking the bottle, and the fact you're the one offering it now was hilarious.

she also seemed to think about that, as she hestitated before drinking it.

"yeah, but..." she stopped to completely down the liquid in just a few sips. she must be really thirsty. "but i didn't lose, either."

ellie looked around. "she's somewhere around here, isn't she?" she asked with a smirk, and you instantly knew who is she talking about. "i need to shove these results in her face."

you shrugged and tried to change the topic. "anyway, back to what i..."

ellie looked you up and down before cutting you off. "one kiss. it's all i want."

she raised an eyebrow at you, clearly expecting a response.

"so is that it?" you chuckled. "you just wanted to make vi mad?"

ellie defensively raised her hands. "no, no. that's just a great bonus."

you laughed at ellie's response, but you knew that there was more to it than that.

ellie had spent the entire match trying to win your recognition. she didn't just want to make vi mad. she wanted to win you - your attention.

"fine." you agreed with a smirk. "i shouldn't, but i'll give you your hard-earned kiss."

you reached out towards ellie, bringing her slowly closer and closer.

you could both feel the anticipation in the air. ellie's breath hitched, and she held her breath as you both moved in for the kiss. your mouths met softly yet passionately, as your lips pressed together and ellie's tongue explored your mouth. you could feel her excitement and her desire for you, and you began to feel the same for her.

the cheering from the crowd faded away as the two of you were caught up in the moment.

a sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted you. you pulled away, heavily breathing, to see vi.

"i just wanted to congratulate you, ellie." she clicked her tongue and crossed her arms.

vi was clearly annoyed by the situation, as she looked at her rival with disdain.

"why do you always take things too far?" she asked ellie. "this match was supposed to be about scoring goals, not about scoring dates."

you both stayed silent, not wanting to start an argument. but maybe it'd be necessary.

"i'm glad to see you two having such a great time together." she said dryly, giving ellie a hard stare.

it was clear that vi was still trying to win you back, and it was also clear that she was bitter about the situation.

ellie looked annoyed by your ex's comment, as she knew exactly where vi's anger was coming from. ellie's face was still flushed from the kiss, but she didn't let it bother her.

you didn't even notice when other students and players left the field, leaving you almost alone.

"thanks for your concern, but we don't need it, alright?" ellie replied, rolling her eyes.

"you should be careful with her." vi warned ellie, sternly looking at her. "or you'll end up like me, being known as a cheater."

her rival laughed, shrugging it off. "not going to happen."

she pulled you closer, almost as if she wanted to keep you away from this.

"why so sure?" your ex put on a mockingly curious expression. "maybe you're feeling safe because you're the one who made up this little gossip?"

your eyes widened at vi's accusation.

"you did cheat on me, don't deny it." you shook your head.

"oh, of course i did!" vi sarcastically smiled. "did you never wonder why the first ones to call me a cheater were people from ellie's team?"

as soon as vi saw she got to you, she simply walked away, mumbling a proud; "i see you two have some explaining to do."

"ellie..." you started softly. "just tell me- is it true?"

she looked down, and for a moment, she seemed like she was about to lie. but then she took a deep breath and sighed.

"yes, i did." she looked at you and shrugged. "i was jealous, okay? the only thing i could think of was to sabotage her, so i made up that whole story about her cheating to get you to spend less time with her." she frowned, looking away.

"i'm sorry."

not only you just found out you broke up with someone you loved because of a false rumour, but it was ellie who spread it too. the same ellie you cheered on for the past months. the same ellie who, you thought, hated you the whole time. and here you are, finding out she's the one who ruined your relationship, because she liked you.

you were in disbelief. you felt stupid, and hurt. but more than anything, you felt betrayed by someone you, well, didn't really care about, but trusted. because you met up everyday after classes and no matter how much you pretended to hate her, you knew a lot about her.

ellie saw the look on your face, and the weight of her antics got to her. you never saw her so... vulnerable before.

"i'm so sorry." ellie repeated, her voice awkwardly quiet. "you have a right to be mad at me, but, please, keep in your mind that i didn't do this to hurt you." she took a step towards you. "i just...i liked you, and i didn't know what do you see in her."

"i need to-" you hestitated for a moment, taking a step back to make up the distance between you both. "i need to think about- everything. alone."

she opened her mouth as if to speak, but you cut her off by raising your hand.

"i know." you nodded.

you didn't know what was she thinking - that no one will find out eventually? you didn't know how is it possible her team just played along, making everyone in school believe it too. you didn't know how did she even come up with this idea. but you knew what she was going to say, you knew she's sorry. she already told you two times. enough.

it's good to know you're not the only hurt one, though.

"i know." you repeated, quieter this time, and it seemed like you were whispering it more to yourself than to her. because that's how it was. you were trying to convince yourself you do know and you understand.

she fucked up, really, but at least she knew that.

you could hear a quiet "m'kay." and the sound of a disappointed sigh.

so guys what do we think?? are we being in a generous mood and forgiving ellie?? are we trying to give her a little lesson?? <3<3

TAGS: @wandasromanova @bellaramslover @aouiaa @glennns-blog @elliewilliamsfuckbuddy @iheartsadiesink @ximtiredx @coff1nn @jowdann @simpforellie @iveofficiallylostmymarbles @skylerwhitwyo @pinkigirl @islalips @ratdungeon @okayyesbutno @dinoastronaut @ucannotcompare @elyonz @lesbiantothemoonandback @lovejuliettq more i cant tag for unknown reasons:(

[disaster-theysbian]

Gotta say, I've been out as a lesbian for 3 years and nonbinary for a year and a half. And I've noticed something.

Just because someone *always* gets your name and pronous correct, and angrily calls out anyone who forgets, doesn't necessarily mean they support you.

Conversely, just because someone struggles to remember your name and pronouns, or can't wrap their head around gender neutral/neo pronouns at all, doesn't necessarily mean they DON'T support you.

This is applicable to any situation really not just queer shit. Watch what people do, not just what they say, and you will find your friends. Someone might shower you with compliments and have common interests with you, but what happens when you tell them no? Do they get angry when they are corrected? Do they have kind things to say about other people?

My colleagues wouldn't know a gender-neutral pronoun if one hit them in the face with a dictionary, but they make sure I've had a lunch break and get home safely. They have my back if I have a difficult patient. They defend me against other staff members who like to create drama and bitch about people as if they're still in the school playground. If someone has something to say about me being a big ol' queer, they make it known that discrimination has no place in our unit.

My best friend in the whole entire world forgets my name and pronouns every day. When the organisers of her therapy group changed "men and women" to "people" and "he/she" to "they" in order to be more inclusive, there was outcry. Everything from the "it just doesn't sound right" grammar-policing nonsense to the "f*cking special snowflakes are offended by everything". She came down on them like a ton of bricks. She said if the organisers hadn't told them that it was changing, that they wouldn't have noticed. She told them they obviously haven't loved someone outside of the gender binary and they were missing out. She then told them how she had seen me grow and develop since I came out, and how in awe she was of the person I had become. No, she doesn't understand it at all, but why should that mean that she can't be there for me and appreciate how happy I am to be able to be me? Why should that mean, because you lot don't understand it, that someone with the same issues as the rest of the therapy group feels unsafe and unwelcome and doesn't get their issues resolved? As a result, a few of them changed their minds, INCLUDING HER OWN FATHER, and the rest at least shut the hell up about it.

ON THE FLIP SIDE...

A queer person who used my correct name and pronouns delighted in making me walk on eggshells, inventing reasons to be angry with me, convinced me I was a terrible person and even went as far as to try and turn me against my own therapist. They tried to tell me that my therapist only said I was a good person because she was paid to, and that because they themselves had a psychology degree that they could tell I had all these complexes and needed to work hard to be a good person, and it was unlikely I'd never get there. (I chose to listen to my therapist and stop being friends with this person).

A queer person who used my correct name and pronouns continued to do things that made me uncomfortable when I asked them to stop. Never said in as many words "you're not allowed to hang out with your friends" but conveniently had an emergency every time I had plans, and accused me of being uncaring if I needed my own space. They knew I had difficulty asking for help, but still got angry with me when I asked because I didn't ask "soon enough".

A queer person who used my correct name and pronouns told me they would look after me and they didnt. .

A queer person threatened to misgender me MORE when I corrected them.

I'm just saying, that if you choose to yeet everyone who doesn't get your name and pronouns right... that doesn't necessarily make you safe. We live in a very binary world. As much as we want that to change, it won't if we ignore or shout at the bits we don't like. (Believe me, I've tried).

[qqueenofhades]

I'm having a bit of a rough mood from seeing that the judge in the Georgia case dismissed some of the orange motherfucker's charges.

Can I get some your ever-insightful perspective on this, and if there's still hope for prison time for something? Anything at all?

I can offer a few pieces of context on this, yes. First, the judge did dismiss a few of the less-substantiated and secondary charges against Trump in the Georgia election interference case. However, these charges were primarily related to "soliciting others to make false statements," i.e. how he enlisted others in the purpose of overturning the GA election results, and do not contest or impact upon the actual fact of election subversion (which is at the core of the prosecution). The judge also openly invited the prosecutorial team to re-submit the dismissed charges with more substantiated evidence and clearer testimony, so this wasn't a from-the-bench hack job like the ones Aileen Cannon keeps running in the Mar-a-Lago classified documents case (seriously, when can we appeal to the 11th Circuit to get her taken off? WHEN???) Which, considering that this is a Republican judge appointed by a Republican governor (Brian Kemp) is a good sign.

In short, this wasn't the judge saying "all these charges are bogus and inadmissible," it was the judge saying "I'll dismiss a few of these for not being as well substantiated as the others, but please resubmit with revisions/improvements and I will be happy to consider them again." And while I am not a lawyer, it is my understanding that prosecutors typically bring a multiplicity of charges, including some that might not ultimately stick, in case of this exact circumstance where some of them get dismissed/required to undergo judicial review/are otherwise ancillary to the central indictment. Which, in this case, is still intact. So no, Trump is 100% not "getting entirely off the hook" or "no longer under investigation in Georgia" or whatever else. I'm sure the GOP will try to spin it as such, but ignore them. The Trump "find me 11,780 votes" phone call to Raffensperger and the rest of his Georgia election interference has not been dismissed, and the RICO case still largely exists as first filed.

This is also a good sign that the judge won't order Fani Willis dismissed and the case completely shut down, as the Georgia Republicans have been trying to do with their hit-job inquiry into her personal life. If the judge was leaning toward dismissing Willis/the case entirely, this could have been a lot more sweeping intervention, but it doesn't look like he's going to do that, and in fact offered them an invitation to re-submit and make the case stronger. So that actually bodes better for the chances of eventually securing a conviction in the Georgia case, if the prosecutors have to go back to the drawing board and make sure everything is airtight. It's probably helpful to see all this in the above light and to understand that all legal cases drag on for years, with forward progress and setbacks. Especially this one, which is unprecedented in all ways.

However, I need to warn people again about thinking that Trump will be tried, convicted, and imprisoned before the election, and that this will spare us from having to vote against him or otherwise electorally dispose of him. SCOTUS, to nobody's surprise but still our disappointment, agreed to hear the Trump immunity case in late April (instead of just accepting the DC Circuit's opinion), and while they're likely to rule against him, that still creates another months-long delay. Importantly, though, the Department of Justice has announced that the "no legal proceedings 60 days before the election" rule does NOT apply to Trump, as he has already been indicted and the cases are currently being litigated. If they had decided that the 60-day rule applied, all trial proceedings would have to be frozen in the first week of September, but since not, they can continue into October and November. If the 60-day rule had been upheld, it would have drastically increased the odds of Trump avoiding trial entirely before the election, as few prosecutors would have wanted to proceed when they knew that there was an automatic kill switch built in. But if the DOJ holds to this, Trump could literally be on trial on Election Day itself. Which is good, obviously, but still: it will not be the magic solution. We still have to vote for Biden.

As I have said before, the stakes in 2024 are simple. The criminal trials will not get rid of Trump before the election. There will be another election that is Trump vs. Biden and therefore one of them will win the presidency. If Biden wins and Trump loses, Trump will be out of delay options and will go to prison almost 100% as all his criminal chickens come home to roost. If he wins, we will be fucked for generations to come. Vote accordingly.

[shadesoflsk]

MILLION DOLLAR BLOODLINE — Adam & Eve

A political candidate has been found dead and a well known agent is working alongside you. Check my million dollar bloodline masterlist for general warnings.

Chapter 1

pairing: Vampire/Agent Leon x Fem Detective reader

warnings: Rivals to lovers (Kinda one sided at first because reader doesn't get along with men) misogyny, sexism (from the press) gore, violence, death, suicide, blood, mentions of kidnapping and experimentations, fucked up government.

author's note: Hi! So, this took me longer than I expected lol. I had to delete and redo so many parts but at last I'm comfortable with the result. This is basically an introduction to both characters hence the name I gave to this chapter. I hope you guys like it.

Blinded by the constant flashes of cameras, numerous police officers make their way out of the tumultuousness of journalists and reporters who have gathered —in the name of informing— to be the first ones to publish headlines that will surely raise more commotion in the already horror-stuck citizens.

Thank God the scene of the crime is away from those prying eyes that won’t hesitate to snap a picture or two just for the sake of popularity or being contacted by those trashy and shitty newspapers that fall into the sensationalism homicides and crimes attract. 

The eighties are certainly… one of a hell decade to live in. Exuberant neon lights and flashy outfits weren’t enough to silence the crimes that were occurring each day in a city led by white-collared dicks who are ‘better than anyone else.’ The citizens’ words, not yours.

It was easy to despise everyone right now. From those politicians who share their condolences but deep down they have the same fucked up ideal and sentiment—they were happy their enemies keep dying. To the obtuse and short-sighted journalists who kept asking the same questions.

Not even your disdain and witty answers could push them away to the hell hole they came from. Catchy and well-sold tabloids were their objectives and you were the perfect subject to them. A woman in the eighties being the leader of a politic-related case? Oh God, the newspaper loves dragging down women.

Misogynistic terms were chanted even more than the national damn anthem. “God, spare us from a woman leading this case!” “Is this a new gold digger searching for a politician that isn’t dead?” Those were the most ‘tame’ titles they could come up with. However, rumor has it that directors and journalists love calling you names. Ultimately, those whispers die down as soon as the window from your Porsche 959 rolls down and the flashes of cameras turn your way.

“Ma’am we received news that the body you found was in fact, Mr. Clark. Our Major Candidate. Is there any clue this time?” The young journalist asked you. He was definitely a rookie, that ma’am that fell so easily from his lips, and his stance gave it away. Maybe you could be softer with him, aggressiveness was starting to wear you off.

You take out your sunglasses, the snaps of the pictures get harder to bear but for once, you try holding eye contact with this said journalist. In his gaze, you admire his inexperience and eagerness to get something out of this conversation.

Sadly, there’s nothing to offer from a lifeless body and a pool of blood that could flood the entire apartment of the deceased.

“It’s still unknown. We shall wait for the forensic team to provide us with the results of the autopsy.” Your voice is uninterested, an automatic reaction each time a question is asked. 

“So… The police department is once again showing signs of inability to complete a case?”

Fuck them all. All of them.

A few hours ago, you had received a call which informed you about the disappearance of a candidate, a major candidate. Of course, a crime would occur when the elections were just around the corner. A perfect scenario to bring the already most famous and glamorized case in the decade more mystery and gore.

A disappearance meant a homicide, it would take just minutes before you were notified that a body had been found. 

And you were right.

Eventually, a coworker of yours informed you—with an annoyed expression on their face— that a drained body was found in an apartment. 

Working on two cases simultaneously was definitely tiring, and it was starting to show on your face. On one hand, multiple crimes are occurring in Raccoon City, all of them involving people from high society: CEOs, ex-presidents, and candidates. Idle good-for-nothing people who can wipe their asses with a one hundred dollar bill, to put it simply.

Difficult to deal with was an understatement. Everyone at the police station knew one thing though— someone important is leaking information. This said individual doesn’t want to get their hands dirty with blood. Acting like a vendetta, in the darkness, they are cleaning the government in a way.

However, the catch of this case was rather sui generis—not even decipherable. Corruption was the root of all problems and it even showed in various scenes of the crime. Politicians were found dead in certain ways that didn’t match up with their own lifestyles. Suicides, disappearances, homicides without a murder weapon. Someone important must be behind all of this and those victims were merely their pawns.

And on the other hand, a case that seems to get more sinister and fucked up was brimming in the shadows. One that also involved those who justice can’t reach. Besides politicians disappearing, numerous citizens were also missing without a trace. Families were left alone without their breadwinning fathers, without their nurturing mothers, and especially without their loved ones.

The government’s reputation was unmistakable, they didn’t care. Protests were organized without any response or reassurance that a solution would be provided. And then again, the damnation and torment of those who searched through hell and earth was once again brought to them.

Without further ado, you walked out of the police department and embarked on the fantastic journey of seeing another dead body. Not the best sight to see after having your lunch but if you don't go, no one else will. 

You arrived at the scene of the crime and luckily, you didn’t run into any reporters, word hadn’t reached them yet. You showed your ID to the cops that surround the apartment complex, they let you in.

The excruciating silence as you wait in the elevator was always agonizing. It allowed your mind to create the most gut wrenching scenarios. You’re a veteran at this point, you have seen 10 dead politicians over the course of the months. However, it doesn’t get any easier.

The first thing that welcomed you as the door of the elevators opened again was the metallic smell of blood. With a deep breath, you fixed your hair and expected the worst. 

“Good morning everyone.” Your voice rang through the living room of the apartment. There was no trace of violence or self defense, but the rancid reek continued filling your nostrils. Nonetheless, the authority in your voice never faltered, you simply didn’t allow it.

Acting tough was the norm and giving no shit about anyone was the rule that followed. It’s always been like that. You can’t crack jokes or show a smile just like your male superiors can. Bullshit, you thought. People love saying that the 80s are the best, but everyone is fucking misogynistic. 

When you saw that your team had your attention, you proceeded. “Where’s the body?”

“Inside.” A cop said. He was a veteran, the wrinkles forming around his eyes and the one-word phrase told you as much. “There’s a federal agent there, though.”

A federal agent?

It was a matter of time before the government decided to send one of its people. They should have after the first one. But as you already know, they’re scavengers, they don’t give a damn about the country nor themselves. If the death of a candidate could bring more votes to another party, they would close their eyes for the sake of it. 

“Anything I may know before going inside?” You ask. 

“Nothing much. The state of the body is the same as the ones we have found before.” The dull and repetitive tone of his voice was proof of how everyone was getting frustrated with this case. “Although this one really looks like a suicide.”

Interesting, a politician who actually killed himself instead of being killed.

“Thank you.” Your legs worked on their own and strode off to where the body was. The main bedroom. For a moment, you hesitated to turn the knob around. Your eyes were fixated on your red nails —the same color you’re expected to see once you enter the room.

And you were right, your gaze which was now looking at the floor only witnessed the ruby red color that painted the rug. And, as your eyes traveled, you observed the man who was lying lifeless on the floor. 

Your eyes then stopped when you noticed the man who had his back facing you. 5'10 inches with dirty blond hair, black leather jacket that hugged his figure just right. Undoubtedly, the build of an agent yet you couldn’t care less about his appearance right now.

Clearing your throat, you made your presence known. Even though a part of you believed that this man must have heard you as soon as you entered the scene of the crime. 

He turned around and you could see the solemn expression that soon turned into a polite smile. So, the blue-eyed male that was in front of you was the federal agent the government has sent? Interesting.

“Hello. You may be the leading detective of this case, right?” There is no accent in his voice nor a belittling hint in his speech. You were used to being questioned about your position or straight up told not to waste time before you could even identify yourself.

“Indeed.” You nodded before stepping closer and showing him your badge which had your name and occupation there. There’s a moment of silence before Leon speaks again, with a faint smile on his lips. 

“Kennedy. Leon Kennedy.” He stated his name, a muffled chuckle leaving after his phrase. 

At first, you remained expressionless, not expecting this stoic ‘professional’ to introduce himself in a rather comical way. Not when there’s a dead body lying at his feet.

“What are you? James Bond?” You were genuinely dumbfounded. 

“Do I look the part?” He had a hand on his hip, casually standing in front of you. If audacity and lack of decorum had a name, it would have Leon written at the top of a dictionary. “I'd call myself hilarious, though.”

“Kinda goofy, I'd say.” You retorted, walking past him and looking through your pockets to pull out a pair of gloves, the sound of latex being stretched followed your answer. This part was always the hardest, even when the body has been already inspected by the team of criminalists, you ought to re-check.

“Let's keep it at funny.” His eyes darted to where your figure was, the scent of your perfume couldn’t override the constant smell of blood but he could sense the faint aroma of coconut and vanilla.

"So... the government sent you?" You adjusted your gloves as your eyes locked on Leon's. His blue eyes were piercing yet they weren't threatening.

"Yup." Leon crossed his arms as he continued watching you. "Kinda late, I'd say. Mr Clark was... the eighth victim?"

"The eleventh." You corrected him.

"Damn, they keep falling like dominoes."

You crouch down to inspect the body, there’s nothing visibly new compared to the other subjects of the crime. Lifeless eyes, and a nasty open wound on his forehead which resembled a shot. But other than that? Nothing much. 

“Agent Kennedy, I don't think you're being professional.” You absentmindedly trailed off as you checked the candidate’s finger, paying close attention to his nails. Just in case this wasn’t a suicide case and there was DNA left in the victim’s nails.

“You're right.” He shrugged off as he sighed. He had done his part of the job before you arrived, so his presence was no longer required there. However, he stayed. “But then again, do you truly care for that asshole?”

Your ears perked at Leon’s sudden question. Sure, your disdain for politicians wasn’t exactly a secret. Everyone at the station knew about your hatred for the rich. But needless to say, you weren’t expecting the government’s boy to speak in such a manner.

Nor did you anticipate that he knew about you. 

“Careful. Aren’t you supposed to be an agent?” Your demeanor slightly shifted into a more serious one. One that warned him he shouldn’t stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. And while you were a rightful civilian who actually wanted to restore peace in the city. If this rumor reached the newspaper, it would be the end for you.

“Sure. But that doesn’t mean I’m fond of them.” And Leon wasn’t dumb, not at all. He caught the meaning behind those simple yet blunt words. “Or are you going to tell me you like working for your boss?” 

“I’m the boss here.” Your expression quickly turned sour as Leon expressed his own opinions. You just noticed the tick of a clock, a persistent noise that only served to highlight the already growing tension.

See, you weren’t a bland person, far from that. You appreciate jokes and even engage in light-hearted teasing with your friends. Not with colleagues.

But at that moment, antics and pranks weren’t something you easily accepted. Living to be compared to men who were incapable next to you built walls that made it impossible to reach your core, to your true self.

“See? Maybe your subordinates don’t like you.” 

“You should learn when to stop biting, Mr Kennedy.” 

Leon just laughed and shook his head. His eyes stopped being focused on yours and decided to gaze through the large window the room had. The perfect view of the city was in front of him, a perfectly corrupted place.

A welcoming silence—after their awkward banter— set in. You took this opportunity to ask for more information related to the dead candidate. As you let go of his hand, you got up and took off your gloves.

“So… Agent, any background information the now deceased may have?”

“Besides the obvious? Not really.” A sigh slipped from the blue-eyed man. “He had a beautiful wife and beautiful kids. The white picket fence kind of life.”

“Minus the obvious opulent lifestyle he had.” You said.

“Minus the obvious opulent lifestyle he had, indeed.” Leon replies in tandem. 

He shook his head, letting out a sigh you didn’t know he was holding. A headache was already brewing and you simply massaged your temples. The sensation of running in circles was once again setting and penetrating your mindset—there’s no clue to even pinpoint the cause of so many crimes.

“There’s nothing else here. Maybe your coworkers have something you could work with?”

And while you felt frustrated for not being able to do more, you let your irritation die down as you nodded.

As both of you exited the scene of the crime, flashing lights and camera shutters could be heard around the building as if they were annoying bugs that wouldn’t stop bothering you. Mosquitoes sucking the blood out of your systems.

Between noises and judging stares from the journalists, Leon’s stride led him to his bike that was just parked in front of your car. As you could already guess, the lenses of the cameras were getting the perfect take for tomorrow’s diary, especially since people love to read about the woman of the year being close to a man. To assert their sexist stance. 

“Hey,” Leon called you, his voice barely audible as the constant background noise was still pretty much present. “Take this with you.”

A confused expression set on your face as you eyed the manila envelope Leon gave you. Before you could even open it to inspect what documents were in front of you, Leon’s voice stopped you.

“I don’t think it’d be wise of you to open that here.” Your attention returned to the blond man who was now putting on his helmet. Immediately, you pressed the folder against your chest, protecting the contents inside of it.

“What's it?” 

“You’ll know later.” His hands gripped the handlebars, already turning on the engines. “For now, don’t do anything stupid.”

Haunted by the plethora of degrading terms you were called, your first instinct was to roll your eyes as you watched the agent driving away from the building and from the horde of journalists. 

Nonetheless, a part of you couldn’t help but read between the lines. Leon hasn’t been particularly cruel to you like every other cop or colleague. So, his statement could be related to what’s inside the folder.

For now, you simply walked towards your car. Or rather, tried. Ready to be cornered by the starved media while cops attempted to serve as a protective wall around you.

Who am I if not exploited, abused, and corrupted?

A question that used to haunt Leon’s dreams and nightmares. His life purpose has been nothing but being the Government's puppet. Images and memories of being exploited and destroyed build up the man he is now.

Or rather, the beast.

In the search of the ultimate soldier, who would fight against every adversity. A creature that didn’t belong to this world was created. The once human could no longer be classified as one, and he gained the name of a vampire.

His hunger for food was replaced by a maddening and unbearable desire for the vital fluid of blood and his right to die was robbed from him as numerous experiments proved that, in fact, no human weapon could kill him now. 

Leon’s spirit was bonded to eternity therefore dying meant nothing to him. He doesn’t belong to life since his humanity was stripped away from him the moment he sold his soul to the nation. But death didn’t want him either, since now mortality runs away from him as the monster he has become.

It was a statement he grew accustomed to. The world was cruel and he was reduced to a simple and mere battle machine. The best weapon the nation had.

Although, he knew he was far from being the best arsenal the government could come up with.

They were greedy. It's always been that way. And the moment the disappearances started, Leon's nature was once again brought to the surface.

It all started when he once switched to a News Channel. The slow and grim music was playing in the background as the headline read: NEWS REPORT: FATHER OF TWO IS MISSING. Followed by another update that indicated he was the third man who has disappeared in May. 

No hell could be hot enough for whoever was behind all of this. However, Leon was terribly sure that this case wasn’t something orchestrated by just one individual. The anger he had so deeply buried now flourished as a flower. Yet this time it came with thorns that would cut and stab those who wished nothing but to set the world in despair.

He didn’t wait. If he stood still more innocent people would pay the price of being victims of the same destiny he faced. 

— August 14, 1987 —

Mr Clark,

I send my most sincere congratulations to you as I’ve come to know that you’re people’s favorite candidate. I’m so sure your image must be impeccable and flawless to reach such level of popularity. 

However, It’s so strange to me that as a public figure, you condemn those corrupted politicians who indulge in nothing but richness, crime, and sinful activities when your past (and present) does nothing but stain your image. 

But, I’m a generous individual. I’ll give you two options which you can choose from. You come out clean, show everyone the type of sick criminal you are or, you simply end your life. Easy, right?

After all, you didn’t hesitate to end someone else’s.

[ochameow]

⟢ saccharine — nakahara c. ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⟡ pairing: beast!chuuya nakahara ﾉ fem!reader

⟡ cw: mentions of blood and wound, overall fluff, beastzai is not the best boyfie so light angst :( ? not proofread btw

⟡ notes: coochie empty. prolly might go semi-hiatus soon.

⟡ synopsis: Dazai can be unavailable and distant sometimes, but his right-hand man was more than happy to help with your unpleasant predicament.

┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄

You reckoned Dazai was never the most loving partner, and it's understandable when he had the entire Port Mafia on his shoulders. Most of the time, he's too busy having himself occupied with paperwork and trying everything in his ability for his supposed-deceased friend to live— including having to manipulate his subordinates and using them to his advantage.

At times, you would question whether or not he is also manipulating you, if his love for you is conditional and just as twisted as the rest of him.

You only had a single, self-serving wish.

If only he could pay more attention to you. Just a tiny amount.

If you hurt yourself, Dazai wouldn't try to kiss the hurt gone or blow it away with a breath, cleaning whatever scrapes you got and making sure you weren't dying. Most likely, he would send you to the infirmary and leave you with the Port Mafia's physician. In any case, an affectionate Dazai was a strange, disturbing, out-of-character Dazai, anyway.

...

It's not bad- you tried to convince yourself, ignoring the stinging pain at your knee, the crosses from calf to thigh along the joint on your left leg. It's not your fault that you pranced across the halls (which had freshly-mopped floors) to pass time. Your first instinct was to find Dazai- he'll know what to do, right? Unfortunately, you were informed that he isn't available at the headquarters right now. Great. Disappointed and downhearted, you limped your way to the infirmary with your injured knee before—

"You alright there?" You turned around to meet a man, a rather familiar-looking one. Copper haired. Blue eyes. That signature fedora. A high-ranked member, it seemed. You have met him before— his name on the tip of your tongue. The one that interrupted your little rendezvous with Dazai in his office. What was his name again?

"Um... I'm fine, it's just a tiny-"

"That doesn't look like fine to me." He scoffed, making his way to you. He gave you a brief once-over, concern mixed with awe evident in his gaze. A gloved hand rested at the small of your back, guiding you forward.

"You don't seem to know where the infirmary is, do you?"

"I do, it's just..."

"What?"

"Nevermind. May I know your name?"

You did expect him to pick you up and carry you, but perhaps that might cross the line. At this point, everyone in the Port Mafia knew you were Dazai's. Disrespecting you is equivalent to disrespecting the boss himself. And that could result in a bullet through your skull.

"Chuuya. Chuuya Nakahara. I'm surprised you don't remember it." He replied, and you noticed that his voice was rather... gentle, at least more than before, a stark contrast to his brash appearance and aura.

You didn't reply, letting Chuuya lead you to the infirmary.

...

He was kneeling before you, examining your knee with utmost care that it surprised you. He's rather dedicated, you thought as he leaned in to check that there were no serious wounds, holding on to the back of your left calf with both hands. The coolness of his leather gloves hitched the hem of your skirt and skimmed along the scraped area. The grip of his hand around your leg was tight, far more tight than it should be if he's merely trying to steady you.

Still, having someone to fuss over you like you were the most precious thing in the world.. it's kind of nice. Even if he wasn't so vocal about it. You wondered what it'd be like if Dazai were as attentive as Chuuya. How would it be?

"Tell me if it hurts." He reminded you, reaching for something in the cabinets.

As if he could read your thoughts.

You didn't even realize how swift his movements were, bandaging your wound with gauze. The bandages reminded you of Dazai. Supposedly if you were a Mafia member, basic patching-up skills were necessary to acquire.

"Thank you." You mumbled, lifting your leg, and swinging it back to forth. Offering him a small smile as a sign of gratitude, you received a subtle nod from Chuuya.

"It's nothing much. Just be careful next time. Don't want Boss to go out of his way for your silly accidents." He chided, borderline reprimanding.

"I'll try." You mumbled apologetically, and you sulked, looking down at your shoes like a scolded child. "Sorry to bother you."

Neither of you noticed a single red eye, peeking in the infirmary from outside.

© ochameow.𓂃౨ৎ

[legendofmorons]

Hi! Im new to requesting here so i hope im not late or sending you something thats against your rules. I also hope something like this hasn't been requested before.

Could i request some semi-romatic chain x reader (platonic for Wind because he's baby) where the reader needs to go do something (example: shopping, hunting, scouting, etc) and they need one of the links to come with them because they aren't the best at fighting/aren't familiar with this hyrule. So the way they get their attention is by calling for their "Pretty boy". Bonus points if the chain(again platonic for Wind) had a crush on reader!

Idk if you've seen that tiktok audio/video where someone goes, "Pretty boy, with me I say!" "..." "..." "Oh! I'm pretty boy?" "Yes! That came out a bit too quickly-" "...pretty?"

All i can think of is basically reader accidentally calling the link for you choice "pretty boy" subconsciously. The reader could either play it off and the link could tease them or reader can go all in and continue calling said link "pretty boy".

Hopefully that makes sense and/or isn't too much? Also if possible could you make the reader gn? If you don't do it already? Also if doing all of the chain is too much you can just choose specific one's, i dont mind who you pick. Anyways thanks for even reading my request and i hope you have a good day!

I'm happy to do this! This is such a good idea and I'm excited to write it. If I didn't do it the qay ypu hoped let me know!

I went for vague crushing vibes on all of them, but Wind's. If this isn't what you had in mind please let me know!

-In alphabetical order and names are in bigger writing than the story parts

Pretty boy (chain)

Pairing: Chain x reader (seperate), Wind & reader

Rating:

Summary: you call the boys 'pretty boy' these are the results

Warnings:

Other: -In alphabetical order and names are in bigger writing than the story parts

-------

Four

You don't necessarily love going shopping. You don't hate it either, but it's not your definition of fun. So obviously you want someone to come with you.

Four is always fun to have around. He's sweet, and he's surprisingly good at haggling down prices.

"Do you need anything else?" Time asks you, eyeing you over and counting off your weapons for self defense.

"Not really." You say, turning towards the path.

You observe the dirt road before turning your head and calling over your shoulder, "Come on, pretty boy, let's go."

The entire group goes still and silent. They're all staring at you.

Why are they staring?

You replay your words. Oh- shit. You called Four pretty boy.

Well- he is a pretty boy but still!

You turn back to the group, taking in their confused expressions before your eyes land on Four.

Well.... You might as well commit.

"Well? Are you coming, pretty boy?" You ask, flashing a smile to show the playful intent behind the question.

Four blinks a few rides. And then points to himself slowly.

"Me?" He asks.

"Yeah, c'mon, pretty boy."

Four gives a little half fought off smile. "Pretty boy?"

"Do you not like the name?"

"No- I like it."

"Good. Come on then, I could use the company." You say.

Four follows you. It's hard to miss the little giddy pep in his step when he seems almost inclined to giggle.

You'll have to call him pretty boy more often!

Hyrule

"You should take someone with you if you're going to the dungeon. It's better with help." Time says evenly, "And take plenty of fariea and potions. Okay?"

"Okay." You say, "Let me grab my things and I'll bring Hyrule."

"Good idea."

You go to your little space in the clearing, grabbing your bag and making sure you have plenty of equipment. You don't like having to rely on other people all the time. No one does.

You finish getting yourself ready before you turn to Hyrule, "Comr on Pretty boy, you're with me.

"Did you just call Hyrule 'pretty boy'?" Legend asks, a sly look crossing his face.

"No!" You defend, face flushing as embarrassment crawls up your spine.

"It's okay!" Hyrule assures quickly, his own ears tinging with a blush. "I like that name!"

"You do?"

"Yeah!"

You smiles a little, glad he isn't upset about it. "Well... good!"

"Soo.... you think I'm pretty?" Hyrule asks, and his grin is anything but innocent.

"Maybe?"

"I knew it! I'm definitely your favorite."

"Good god." You groan, but you can find it in you to really be upset.

If only they weren't all teasing you the rest of the day. Oh, well.

Legend

You find yourself stuck on middle watch, which is the Worst. Capital W and all. Like for first watch you stay up late, last you wake up early.

But middle watch? You get woekn up and then get to try to go back to sleep later.

Gross.

Maybe someone is awake?

You scan the group, finding what is to be expected at this point.

Time sleeps as still as a log, hand one over the other on his chest.

Warriors sleeps like a soilder, light and still but heavy enough all at once.

Wild, Twilight, and Wind are all in a tangled bunch of limbs. Though to your surprise they managed to pull Four and Hyrule into their cuddle puddle tonight.

Sky sleeps all sprawled out and half out of his sleeping roll.

Then you land on Legend- who seems to be trying to get comfortable. Is he awake?

One way to find out.

"Hey! Pretty boy!" You stage whisper at him.

You don't know what possessed you to call him that. But you did, amd you don't think you're wrong.

He actually sits up, looking to you. "What?"

"Oh good, you're awake!"

"No shit. What did you call me?"

"Uh-" you pause, having hoped he would either not care or not notice. "Pretty boy?"

"That's what I thought. You got a crush on me?"

"I can think you're pretty without having a crush!" You hiss out, face flushing with embarrassment.

Maybe he is right.

"Bummer." Legend says, "Here I was thinking you had fallen head over heels for me. Since I'm your pretty boy.c

"Oh my god. Just forget I said it."

"Nope!" Legend says.

"Whyyyyy?" You groan.

Sky

You are over again pulled into upkeep chores that the quest requires. Which, whatever but you wish you weren't stuck on laundry today.

Laundry sucks with only the river, soap, and sun to do it.

Thankfully, you have Sky to help you. He's such a sweetheart that you really do appreciate his help.

So you settle at the river with the pile of clothes and some soap and resign yourself to the repetitive chore.

You cast a look to where Sky is and call out within much thought. "Come on, pretty boy! Might as well get started."

Sky and Twilight both go still before turning their eyes to you. Both looking fairly bewildered.

Oh. You said the 'pretty boy' part out loud. Whoops.

At least it's just Twilight and Sky here. They're not too bad about holding things against you. Usually.

"Me?" Sky questions, looking fairly confused but maybe just a little flattered.

His ears have a hint of pink on them.

How cute!

"Yeah?" You say, but it comes out a lot more like a question then he'd like.

"I've never been called that before."

"Real? Like- not ever?"

"Never.... I like it, though. Please keep calling me that?"

"Sure, if you like."

"I would."

You smile softly, bit your eyes go back to the laundry. "Well come on, pretty boy. We still have laundry to get done."

Time

You'd ask why you're the one who's always in charge of day to day things like groceries, supply runs, socializing, and all of that.... But you've seen the others try. Some are better in these aspects then others- but you are still the best.

So you're in charge of it.

You've already split the work and have the group gathered around you to hand out the assignments.

"Alright, Four, Warriors, and Sky, you're on weapon inventory. Wild, Hyrule, and Twilight's, you're on market duty. Wind and Legend, you're on laundry."

The others all share looks with their task partners.

"Where am I?" Time asks.

You give a smile when you speak, though you swear the nickname is an accident! "Your with me, pretty boy."

Silence.

Complete and utter silence.

Shit.

You said that out loud.

"Did you just-" Time starts.

You cut him off with a tight voice, "Can we please pretend I didn't?"

Warriors just laughs at you, the ass.

"I didn't say I hated it." Time says simply, though you can see the shit eating gleam in his eyes.

Fuck.

"Great. Well, Time, we're on dishes. "

"I thought I was ypur pretty boy."

You feel your face heat up, but you can even care. Why does je have to tease you? Your heart can't take it.

He's so handsome when he's being a menace. Which is a big problem.

Well also the whole he's being a menace thing. That's a bigger problem.

"You're just being mean to (Y/n)," Twilight says helpfully.

"How? I'm just asking why I went from pretty boy to Time."

You just groan, pulling your hands to cover your face.

This is going to be a long day.

Twilight

Why you're left to babysit the stubbornest Links is still beyond you, and yet here you are for the umpteenth time- babysitting them.

Twilight, Warriors, Legend, Wild, and Wind are scattered about the clearing in groups of one or two.

Thankfully, Wild and Wind are on opposite sides of the area and not collaborating to cause trouble.

Unfortunate you hear trouble before you see it.

"Fan out, get low! Pretty boy with me!"

They all turn to look at you as they drop into crouches.

Oh good. You called Twilight pretty boy. And no one knows who you meant. Great.

You groan because that's easier than dealing with feelings.

"You uh, were looking at me when you said- that name.... am- Am I pretty boy?" Twilight asks, and his voice is a little too thick to be played off.

"Yes. Now get over here we don't have much time."

Twilight does, quickly making his way to your side.

He gets there in time to throw a shield over your heads when the arrow start falling. What a gentleman!

When it's all over you can already feel his eyes on you.

"So uh... I'm pretty boy?"

"Yeah, guess you are." You answer him.

"You think I'm pretty?" Twilight asks, and it's both hopeful and heart breaking to hear.

How can he not see that?

"Of course I do. I have eyes." You say, playing off any and all other emotions.

"So... I'm your pretty boy then?"

You just sigh. At least he's having fun. "If you like to be, sure."

Warriors

You actually don't mind going to town to grab supplies, what you fo hate is pickings who goes with you. Sometimes there's no problem, but sometimes the others get pouty if they don't get to go.

Somethings about socialization? Who knows.

But as you're in Warrior's hyrule, he's coming with.

"Alright, pretty boy, let's go." You say as you turn to look at the captain.

Oh, you said that out loud. Shit.

Maybe he missed it?

"What did you just call me?" Warriors asks, and he looks half confused half endeared.

"Uhhhhh-" You blue screen with nearly no idea what's happening.

But you do register embarrassment blooming.

Warriors takes on a smug look as he asks, "You called me pretty boy, right?"

"Yeah. So?" You ask, failing miserably at keeping your cool.

"You think I'm a pretty boy?" He asks, and you swear his ears are tinkered pink.

Why are his ears pink?

Is he- flattered?

"Yeah... You're pretty. You're a boy. Seems pretty straight forwards."

"That's not usually a name I like."

"Oh. Then I'm sorry I called you that."

Warriors shakes his head and gives you a soft look. Earnest and hinging almost on smitten "Actually- I like when you say it."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, come on then pretty boy." You say, flashing a smile.

"Lead on, (Y/n)."

He links his arm through yours eaaily.

Wild easily.

You find yourself watching Wild as he crouches and waits patiently for the perfect shot. You've been running low on meat lately and you're out here to aid his hunt.

Does ot usually take so long?

You can't tell.

But you would like to have a break from squatting a little behind him.

"Wild." You whisper just barley audible.

He dosen’t seem to here you.

"Wild."

No answer.

"Link?" You call again.

He stil dosen’t respond.

So you try again, "Pretty boy?" You say, words falling out of yourouth without thought or permission.

He stiffens, head whipping around. "(Y/n)?

"Are we even seeing animals to hunt?" You ask softly.

"No- wait- what?"

"How much longer are we going yo sit here? It's been like two hours."

"Twenty minutes. And did you call me pretty boy?"

"Oh- yeah, I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"Oh... Why?"

"I was thinking we should move to a better place to hunt?"

"Oh... Okay."

"Any ideas on where?" You ask.

"Uh- maybe a hill.... Why did you call me pretty boy?"

"It just slipped out. I won't call you that again though, promise."

"No... Uh- I like the name.... I just don't think I've been called that before."

You have a harder time believing that. Wild really is pretty, has je eveb seen his own face?

"That's surprising. "

"It is?"

"Yeah. It is."

"Well.... I like the name, at least from you." Wild says again, his ears tinged pink and a barley hidden smile present.

"Yeah? You don't want Legend calling you that?"

"Not really."

"That tracks, pretty boy. Come on let's move to a better vantage point."

"Okay." Wild says, and you swear if he were a hardened hero and traveler, he'd be giggling.

Wind

You don't mind being put on foraging duty, especially not when the sailor is your companion. Wind has always been so fun to be around. The kid is like a brother to you almost.

He's a few feet away, digging through a mess of greenery that seems pretty weird to you, but he seems happy. And thats good.

"Hey, (Y/n)?" Wind asks, turning his eyes to you.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Are these those poisonous berries Wild showed us?"

You squint as you scrutinize the purple berries Wind holds up. They definitely look similar.

"I'm not sure. Better leave them alone to be safe, though."

Wind sighs, "I thought you'd say that."

"Then why even ask, pretty boy?"

You don't know why you said it, but you did, and he's a cute kid. So whatever. It's honest, at least.

"What?"

"What part are you confused about, kiddo?"

"Why did you call me pretty boy? Is that an insult?"

"No, Wind, it's not an insult. Not from me at least."

"Oh. Good!"

You bite back the laugh that bubbles up from your throat, trying not to he overtly rude. His fave is definitely one you'll remember.

Wind looks pleased, and maybe a little embarrassed. But the glee behind his eyes is genuine.

"So, I'm your pretty boy?"

"Sure kid." You say, trying again not to laugh.

He's cute, in that kid way with the too big grin.

"The others are gonna be SO jealous!"

You do laugh this time, warm and bright, and glad to see him happy.

"Be nice, Wind."

"Never!" He calls as he starts foraging again.