#as much as you can call this finished at least

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. 1.5 | Spencer Reid x Reader

Okay so, WOW. I am completely blown away by the response to my first fic on here, 120 followers in 6 days are you guys okay? Because I am definitely not :,). While accidents pt. II isnt quite finished just yet (thank you so much for being so patient with me<3 uni is kicking my ass already rip), I thought I'd give you all a small sneak peek, aka the first 800-ish words of the second part. I hope you enjoy and thank you all so so much for the generous feedback so far!! <333 I'll go rewatch my genetics lecture now yippie :,,,,)

here you can read the entire first part, please head the warnings! Same ones apply here. also, if you wanna get tagged in pt. II, let me know in the comments!

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Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

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oh spencer, you weren't quite as subtle as you thought. rip my boy. also whooops another cliffhanger? haha my fingers must've slipped my bad

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[tradgedyinwaves]

tw: emotional neglect, military inaccuracies, one sided relationship, sex, cursing, not necessarily unwanted sex, but not encouraged

You told him.

Over and over.

If he didn’t stop treating you like a maid and fuck buddy, you were done.

“Simon, you didn’t do the dishes like I asked and now I have to do them before I can get started on dinner,” you chastise, moving dishes around so you can get them done. His team was coming over for dinner that night, but he’d made no move to help you.

“Ah, I forgot. ‘M sorry,” he called from the couch, eyes still glued to the game flashing across the screen. You huffed and got to work, mentally creating a list of everything that would need done before the guys arrived in…four hours. Great, you had to shower too. 

Only once you’d finished the dinner and were getting into the shower, did Simon finally rise from the couch. He pushed his way in, joining you in the shower. His massive hands found your hips before sliding between your legs, searching for the little bundle of nerves.

Oh, now he wanted to pay attention to you? “Come on, luvie. Let me feel your tight cunt on my cock. I know how much you love my cock,” Simon grunted against your ear, his fingers dancing over the most intimate parts of you. And you let him.

Let him take what he wants because at least, he’s paying attention to you, right? You sigh as he slides into you, feeling the familiar burn and stretch. It’s quick and dirty. He pulls out to shoot his seed between your legs and down the drain. You don’t finish and climb out of the shower to let him finish in peace. 

You stand in front of your closet, opting for a black dress that flaunts your curves but still allows you comfort. Stepping out of the bathroom, fully nude as he uses a towel to dry his hair, he grunts when he glances at you but makes no effort to compliment or even really look at you. 

“I thought I asked you to do the laundry. You know I have that court marshal and Price will have my head if I don’t look presentable,” Simon rants from the bedroom, looking for the ONE button up he owns that he wore earlier in the week to a meeting with some big wigs that the higher ups wanted them to meet. 

The issue was that you were currently bedridden and unable to leave the bed for more than a few minutes to use the restroom or grab food. You’d been laid up with a case of pneumonia that led to bronchitis, making breathing difficult, let alone doing your boyfriend’s laundry. 

You didn’t answer him, rolling away from the closet and curling into yourself. He’d not even been taking care of you, citing that he couldn’t afford to get sick. What if he needed to be deployed, but he was stuck in bed because he was taking care of you? His reasoning was fair, but you were his girlfriend. Shouldn’t he be more worried about getting you well?

It was Simon’s last night home before being sent on a mission. You weren’t privy to where he was going or how long he’d be gone, but that was normal. Something you’d adjusted to when you started dating the man. 

Normally, he’d at least stay home with you the night before. Maybe a movie or something before he’d fuck you into the mattress for three minutes, leaving you unsatisfied. But he tried right? 

This time though, he was throwing his leather jacket on and grabbing the keys to his bike. “You’re seriously going out with the guys you’re shipping out with instead of staying home with me?” you cried, tears slipping down your cheeks as you finally broke from the quiet ways he neglected you. 

“Sorry. They wanted to have a good night of drinking before we’re forced to be sober for weeks on end,” he reasoned, barely even giving you a glance before coming over to kiss the top of your head then disappear out the door. 

The door clicked shut and you heard the key turn in the lock. 

When Simon returned two months later to an empty flat and all of your things missing, he was stunned. Finding the note and your copy of the flat key laying on the coffee table had him collapsing on the couch as he stared at the two sentence note you'd left. He’d taken you for granted for too long, neglected you when you deserved the world. 7 words to shatter his world.

“Don’t come looking for me. I’m done.” 

[ikilledyvette]

(Realized I was never gonna finish this long ass 9-1-1 fic before the premiere, so today I’m doing the seriously condensed version for Tumblr—which I still have to break into two parts, ffs.)

It’s Thursday afternoon, three days before Father’s Day, and the atmosphere at the 118 is grim. Gerrard is gone, at least, and everyone celebrated with cake—specifically, a Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead! cake, complete with a chocolate house crushing little black boots—but to everyone’s surprise, Buck isn’t exactly welcoming Bobby home with open arms anymore. He hasn’t forgiven Bobby for resigning in the first place. Making matters worse, Margaret and Philip Buckley are flying in for the weekend. Also, Eddie is depressed because Chris hasn’t called since he left for Texas six weeks ago, and Eddie doesn’t expect to hear from him on Sunday, or possibly ever again.

Hen tells Eddie Christopher will forgive him. “He’ll come home. He just needs a minute.” Eddie says that six weeks is a hell of a minute, but Hen persists. “You’re a good father,” she says, ignoring Eddie’s humorless laugh. “You messed up; I’m not saying you didn’t. But that doesn’t negate all the good you’ve done, too. Kids, they want you to hear them. They want you to show up, so when Christopher calls, pick up the phone and listen. You two love each other, Eddie. It’s going to work out.”

But Eddie’s gaze just drifts to the kitchen, where Bobby is quietly looking at the stack of uneaten fire-engine-shaped mini-waffles that Buck refused to eat, even though he’s the one who bought Bobby that ridiculous novelty waffle-maker in the first place

“You ever think maybe love just isn’t enough,” Eddie says, and Hen isn’t sure how to answer that.

*

Meanwhile, Chimney, thankfully, has the day off and is drinking a beer with Tommy. (Hen, left to deal with these weird morose vibes at the 118 by herself, quite rightly considers this a betrayal and has appropriately sworn revenge.) Chimney and Tommy talk a little about their own families: Tommy hasn’t spoken to his dad in years; meanwhile, Chimney finally gave up months ago after actually telling his dad how he really felt about being abandoned. He just needed to hear his father apologize once, just once—but he couldn’t do that, not even that, and Chimney decided enough was enough. 

Tommy, who’s only ever met the Buckley Parents one time (but has quickly clocked to Buck’s wildly shifting moods whenever discussing them), asks Chimney how much of a disaster this weekend is likely to be. Chimney tells Tommy that—apart from big family secrets and the general emotional trauma—every time the Buckleys visit, someone comes close to death: warehouse fire (Buck), lightning strike (Buck), viral encephalitis (Chimney). 

“Maybe don’t go up in a helicopter till they’re gone?” Chimney suggests, and Tommy says, “Jesus,” and gets another beer.

*

Back at the 118, things have gone from bad to worse. A call leads to Buck recklessly risking his own life to save someone. He walks away with only a few bruises, but Bobby yells at him for nearly getting himself killed. Buck snarks that he must still be that young, impulsive hothead after all. Bobby, a bit at a loss, tells Buck that he has come a long way, but he can’t put himself in danger just because he’s angry at Bobby. 

“What is this really about? You can talk to me, kid. I’m here.”

“Right,” Buck says, scornful. “You’re here. For ... how long again? Seven more, I think you said? No—no, you never actually said, did you? That one’s on me. Right, Cap?”

The bell goes off, ending the argument. Bobby tries to talk to Buck again after the shift, but Buck is already out the door. He barely gets any sleep that day before he and Tommy drive over for The Big Family Dinner. Tommy tries to talk Buck into staying home, suggesting they go tomorrow night instead, but Buck insists it will be a Thing if they don’t go.

Dinner goes badly. Margaret and Phillip aren’t intentionally rude or actively malicious, but there’s still a thread of casual biphobia in much of what they say: Evan’s always going through these phases. Well, if it’s not a phase, Evan, you must have known; how could you not? Please don’t misunderstand, Tommy, of course we like YOU. Very much! Yes, Tommy, thank you for your service. We’re just saying, Evan likes to throw us for a loop now and then. Really, Evan, you’ve had so many girlfriends you’re basically straight, aren’t you?

Buck finally loses it shortly after Maddie goes into the other room to check on Jee Yun. Margaret suggests that while she’s happy that Buck and Tommy are happy, of course—happy for now, at least—she’d just hoped Buck would’ve started to settle down by now, get serious about someone, rather than start experimenting. Phillip also jokes that he’d thought Buck had outgrown making bids for attention, and Buck just—snaps. 

“Why did I have to work so hard to get your attention again? Right. Cause it was too hard to look at me. Cause I was the reminder of what you lost, the screwup you got left with. Maybe if Daniel had grown up and turned out bi, you’d—"

—and Margaret slaps Buck across the face. 

It shocks everyone, very much including Margaret, but when Buck finally blinks and glances at his dad, Phillip automatically moves to stand behind his wife, silently taking her side. Buck, a bit dazed, mutters he’s sorry and tells Chimney not to tell Maddie what happened, right before Tommy all but pushes Buck out the door and drives him home.

Buck, still a little shellshocked, mostly can’t believe he said what he said, insists he shouldn’t have gotten that upset, and tries to brush off Tommy’s efforts to comfort him. Tries to get him to leave. Tries to distract him with sex when Tommy refuses to leave. Tommy, not having any of it, sits Buck down and talks a little about his own childhood, how he’d run away from home after his father had found out Tommy was gay, how—broken and bleeding—Tommy had never called, never looked back. Buck protests it’s not the same because Margaret and Philip aren’t abusive, have never hit him before tonight, aren’t really homophobic—at least, not in the same way—and also, Buck deserved that slap. 

“Who throws a dead kid in their parents face?” Buck asks, miserable.

“Someone who lived under the shadow of a brother he never knew about for 30 years?” Tommy asks, then takes Buck’s hand and makes Buck look at him.

“Look, maybe it’s not the same. You’re never going to convince me you deserved it, Evan, not any of it—but what I’m saying is, when people repeatedly hurt you? You don’t have to look back. You don’t have to keep trying. You can, if that’s what you want—but you don’t have to forgive anyone just because they’re family. That’s not what being a family should be. And, for what it’s worth, that includes Bobby, too. Just ... maybe consider what you’re actually angry about—or if it’s even anger you’re really feeling here—before deciding to cut him off for good.” 

Slowly, Buck sinks into Tommy’s side. Tommy wraps an arm around him. Kisses him gently just above birthmark.

(Part II is finished, coming tomorrow or the next day)

[tengensangel]

Fade into you.

Boxer!sevika x topside!reader

a/n - I really hope you all enjoy this fic! English is also not my first language so I’m very sorry for any mistakes! Anyway I love sevika so much I want her so bad.

Wc: 1258

It was just another day for you, you had just finished up classes and were on your way home from college. Being a nursing student was definitely not easy. You got home and greeted your mother and fed your cats, ladybug, and Leo. You head up to your room and set your stuff up so you can start studying and doing assignments when you get a message from your friend Sam.

Sam <3: be ready at 8pm tonight, we're going out with the others. Wear something cute ;).

You wanted to decline the offer, but you knew how stubborn Sam was, so you just sighed and agreed. You study for the next couple of hours before you decide to get ready to go. You really had no clue as to where you guys were going, you just hoped it wasn't anywhere dangerous. Walking to your vanity, you start applying your makeup, deciding to go for a natural look. After all that, you decide to put on some flare jeans and a black tank top, deciding to just leave your hair as it is. After getting ready, you get a text from Sam letting you know that she and the others are here. You weren't really close with Sam's other friends, but it was fine. You sneak out of your bedroom and walk over to the meet-up spot. You spot Sam and run over to her.

“Hey Sam! Where are we going exactly?” You were curious. Sam was never the kind of person to tell you where you were going until the last second. Her answer surprised you.

“We miss goody two shoes are going to zaun aka the under city to watch an underground fight!” Sam said very enthusiastically. You gave Sam a look that said ‘what the fuck?’ but she just ignored it before dragging you and the others down with her. Was this really a good idea? Probably not, but you don't want to look like a loser in front of everyone or Sam, so you didn't say anything. After a little bit, you guys arrive in the undercity. Everything was different here. The people, the buildings, the atmosphere, everything. Staying close to Sam while she's taking you to your destination.

“Sam, is this safe at all?” “Oh absolutely not. We're here though!”

Looking at your surroundings, you notice how there is a boxing ring dead in the center. Did she just take you to see an illegal boxing ring? You notice that there's a bar and dance floor off to the left. God, could this night get crazier? Taking hold of your arm, she takes you guys closer to the boxing ring. People started piling in and crowding around you all, you saw people placing bets and getting drinks. Maybe you should have declined Sam's offer.

You can't hold that though for long before the announcer starts hyping the crowd up. You see one big man enter the ring, but you don't even focus on him because you see a woman enter the ring and shake off her dark magenta-coloured robe. She must've been 6’3 at least, her short brown hair tied up in a bun. Her muscular body looked like it had been sculpted by the gods themselves, her scars made her look intimidating, but in a perfect way. The announcer introduces the man to the crowd, but you don't care, being too focused on the big muscular woman standing in the ring, finally he calls her name.

“AND TO MY LEFT IS THE ONE AND ONLY SEVIKA FROM THE UNDERCITY!!!”. After that, the crowd went absolutely insane. She must be very popular here then. He then tells them it's time to fight. Before the man can get any hits on Sevika, he gets knocked out. 45 seconds, 45 fucking seconds.

The crowd goes absolutely crazy, crazier than before. The announcer announces her as the winner and after that some people leave, some stay and go to the bar. You let Sam know that you are going to the bathroom and that you'll be back soon. You were so unfamiliar with this place, so you kinda assumed where the bathroom was. You find a red door and a similar one beside it, so you assume these are the bathrooms. You push the door open, now seeing Sevika was not on your list for tonight. There she was in her shorts and tank top, her hair now down a cigarette in her mouth. She's looking you up and down, yep, and that is how you get beat up and die!

“I'm so sorry I thought this was the bathroom! I'll leave right away!” she had to understand, right? It was just a mistake, yeah, an honest mistake.

“Relax dove, you look like you're about to pass out or something.” What? Did you just freak out for no reason at all? She's just chilling with this? Feeling relieved, you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. Sevika just continued to look at you, she couldn't lie seeing you in that crowd made her feel a sort of protectiveness for you. It was weird because everyone knew that Sevika never had relationships, she was a person who fucks and leaves. Sevika knew you and your buddies were not from around here, she'd never seen you before. Your friends have come here before on multiple occasions. It almost made her mad to see you here. You shouldn't be here.

“Name’s Sevika. You probably know that though, Dove. What's your name?” Oh, she wanted to know who you were.

“My name is Y/n. Yeah, I saw you knock that guy out in 45 seconds! That's actually insane.” she lets out a little chuckle and getting up, she walks over to her. She noticed the confused look in her eyes. She really shouldn't feel this way towards you. Why does she feel like she wants to know absolutely everything about you? How your days are spent or how you like your coffee. God. She needs to snap out of it. Love means weakness, Something Sevika can't have. She's only ever known violence in her life and she's never really questioned it. You felt her lean down a bit. She tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I should go now, Sevika, my friends are probably waiting for me.” you fidget with your fingers, feeling a little nervous under her eyes. She backs up after a bit, giving you space. You really wanted to see her again, not wanting this to be the last time you two met.

“Come see me next week, Dove, I'm up again.” you nod and leave her room. God, what did you just get yourself into? Is this finally your way of rebelling against everyone in your life? Why did you feel this way towards Sevika? She's from the undercity, and she's a fighter, and you were the complete opposite. It'll pass. I mean it has, so you can't fall for someone who's from the undercity, can you?

You spot Sam and the others and practically beg for her to take you home. You felt tired and a bit overstimulated. you got to your house, and climbed the tree that's by your window and sneaked into your room. If your parents ever found out you were out this late they'd probably ground you for life. You hop into your bedroom and change your clothes before hopping into bed. The last thing on your mind before you drift off is sevika.

[ninjaturtlemaniac]

Parasite? Happy Broppy Day!

Poppy stuck her head into the doorway.

“Branch?!”

No response.

Next room?

“Branch?!”

The emptiness of the half built room made her voice echo.

She continued down the hallways. There's quite a few rooms he could still be in.

Lots more rooms than I remember being in the plans. More places to hide! I'll have to note the best spots I find.

“Braaaanch! I love hide and seek as much as the next Troll but no one has seen you all day and it's getting dark~!” She called out in a singsong voice.

She stopped in the main ballroom. The construction Trolls were finishing up for the day and packing away their equipment.

One of them noticed her in the doorway.

“Queen Poppy, did you need something?”

“Have any of you seen Branch today?”

“I saw King Branch this morning!” A Troll further away from them shouted.

“Wonderful! Where did you see him?”

“North edge of the village.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“I tried, he wouldn't let anyone near him!”

“What do you mean?”

“He told us he had very important King duties to attend to and he shouldn't be disturbed. Which is fair, if I had important King duties I wouldn't want to be disturbed either.”

The trolls around him nodded in agreement.

“Thank you everyone. Everything is looking fantastic. Please have a good night annnnd you know what? Take a rest day tomorrow.”

The trolls cheered with high fives and praises for their Queen as they left.

King duties? North village edge?

Poppy tried to think what would be upsetting Branch that he would be avoiding everyone.

If Branch was here, he would be able to figure out what was upsetting Branch.

She tapped her chin as she made her way to the north edge to find clues.

Poppy hadn't gone this long without Branch around her since he was still living in…

The Bunker!

Once she knew where to go, Poppy was at the hatch in no time.

She grabbed the handle and pulled.

Nothing happened.

She knocked.

No response.

Maybe he's not here?

She thought about leaving but then noticed the pile of dirt next to the hatch.

Almost as if the hatch had been opened recently and the build up of dirt had slid off.

Good work me!

Poppy knocked loudly on the hatch and called out his name over and over.

“Go away!” a muffled voice shouted from below her.

“Branch it's me, Poppy!”

“Poppy, go home! You can't be here! It's not safe!”

“Not safe?! Branch what's wrong? Let me help you! Please let me in!”

Poppy pulled harder on the handle.

“I can't!”

“Why?!”

“Cause I'm dying!”

Poppy didn't let go of the hatch, but she did stop in surprise.

“Branch, this isn't funny. You're scaring me. If you love me you will open this hatch!”

“It's because I love you that I will not open this hatch!”

“Whatever is making you feel like you're dying, we made a promise. In sickness and in health! Remember? I'm not leaving!”

They argued back and forth over and over for a while before Branch stopped responding and descended back down his elevator.

An upset Poppy rushed back to the village to find Branch’s brothers.

She was able to reach Floyd and Boom's pod first.

They were able to calm her down long enough to get a vague explanation of what was going on.

They decided Boom would go and get the other brothers while Floyd went back to the hatch with Poppy.

After a while all of the brothers as well as Boom were all attempting to help Poppy get Branch to open up about why he thought he was dying.

At the very least they were trying to get him out of the bunker.

They all had very different ideas.

“Branch, it's Bruce. I'm going to count to three and you better hope that this hatch is open by the time I get to three. ONE…. TWO…”

Clay crossed his arms “Bruce, stop. I can feel Branch rolling his eyes from here.”

Floyd pulled a sleeping Angel out of his hair and handed him over to Boom.

Angel immediately began fussing.

Floyd sat down next to the hatch.

“Branch, okay, you're sick. I understand that and I believe you.”

Floyd winked at Poppy.

“But how do you know YOU are patient zero? You might have picked it up from someone in town?”

There was a long silence before he finally responded.

“…..Maybe?”

“So why don't you tell me what kinda sick you are? Poppy can check with everyone in town to make sure it doesn't spread any further.”

“……..Well…”

Poppy silently cheered that Branch was finally sharing what was wrong.

“My hair, it's somehow oily and dry at the same time but also changing shape at random. It's flaking and itching and it's making my whole body hurt! I have split ends! I've never had split ends! I haven't been able to find what it is in ANY of my books on diseases and chronical illnesses but that just means it's more important you guys stay away!”

Bruce sighed as he looked over to Boom. Angel’s cries had woken Phoenix and John Dory was trying his best to help Boom soothe them.

His eyebrows shot up.

How did he not think of it sooner?

“Branch, have you been getting sharp aches down your neck?”

“…Yeah?”

Bruce chuckled deeply.

“Bro, you can pop open that hatch. You're not gonna get anyone sick. I promise.”

“How can you promise that?”

“Becaauuuuuse I've had this before!”

A series of mechanical knocking sounds were heard, before the hatch finally lifted slightly.

Branch's eyes appeared just below the lid.

“…You have?”

“Sure have! Thirteen times!”

“THIRTEEN?! And it's not contagious?”

“Not in the slightest!”

“What is it then, if it's not contagious, is it genetic?”

“ HA ! In a way, yes!” He grinned. “Come on out, Branch. I'll show you.”

He hesitated, but Branch lifted the hatch all the way and slowly stepped out.

The group was able to collectively let out the breath they had been holding.

Poppy launched herself at Branch and held onto him tightly.

“Okay, what's wrong with me, Bruce?”

Bruce gestured for Branch to lower his head so he could look in his hair.

Branch hesitated but slowly lowered his head.

Bruce gently pushed his hands through his brother's hair.

The thick hair tried to push back but Bruce was able to get to the particular spot.

It confirmed his theory.

He smiled widely and laughed.

He held the hair open with one hand and used the other to invite Poppy over to look for herself.

She blinked in confusion at first.

A knot?

…

Wait?

A ‘KNOT’ KNOT?!

She gasped and looked over to Bruce for confirmation.

He nodded.

“EEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEEEE!”

Poppy squealed!

Branch was startled out of Bruce's reach.

“What?! What is it?! Is there like a parasite or something?! Someone better tell me or… I'll do something, I'm not sure yet!”

“Branch, you silly Troll, it's not a parasite, it's a baby!”

Everyone around them gasped!

“A….a what?” he said shakily.

Bruce put a hand on Branch's shoulder.

“Branch you're hair is forming an egg!”

Branch's eyes darted back and forth, waiting for the punchline.

He touched his hair slightly.

He thought back to everything that's happened.

It actually made sense.

“An…. an egg… I.. that's… wow… Poppy”

“Branch?”

She held out her hands, inviting him to take them.

“I'm so sorry Poppy. I just-”

“Stop right there mister! You did what you thought you had to do. You were willing to cut yourself off from the world to keep everyone safe.”

“You're not mad?”

“Oh believe me, I am so mad right now!”

Her voice became much softer as she stroked his face.

“But at the same time, how can I be mad right now?”

“We're…having a baby” he laughed through small happy tears.

Poppy held his face and they shared a sweet kiss.

Poppy grinned wide as her body became jittery.

“Pleasepleaseplease pleaaaase! Can I get excited now?”

He smirked.

“I'll allow it.”

And Poppy burst!

“AHHHHHHH! AN EGG! WE'RE HAVING A BABY! GUYS WE'RE HAVING A BABY. I'M GONNA BE A MOMMY! BRANCH IS GONNA BE A DADDY!”

Everyone cheered excitedly. Shouting their congratulations over each other.

Poppy jumped between each brother, hugging them tightly in her excitement.

“AHHH! WE HAVE TO TELL VIVA! But oooooh we should probably tell Dad first. Then of course I have to tell Bridget, but then…”

Poppy continued listing off everyone they should tell. She wasn't telling anyone in particular, just kinda listing thm to herself out loud.

Branch received hugs and congratulations from each of them as well.

This was definitely better than how he thought the night was going to go.

Branch looked over to Floyd and Boom holding their two sleeping babies in their arms.

He smiled sweetly, suddenly being able to picture a similar future, with he and Poppy and their own kid.

[honeygrahambitch]

Imagine Maeve (will and hannibal's daughter) coming home from a friend's house and saying something sort of "Mike's mom makes the best pasta carbonara."

Will subtly tries to leave the room and maybe hide under the bed but before he can leave Hannibal has already eyed him.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yes, I really need to-"

"Mike's mom makes the best carbonara. Even better than her half italian dad."

"And he's started..." Will says and lets out a long sigh. "Did you guys finish your project?" He asks trying to change the topic.

"How is her recipe better than mine? Maybe I can learn something from Mike's american mom."

The sarcasm in Hannibal's voice makes Will consider all the exits in the room. The window seems to be the best option. If only Hannibal's hand wasn't resting on the small of his back as a reminder that he is staying there for the whole talk.

"I think she said she uses cooking cream?" Maeve replied, very much aware of the fact that she cannot escape either.

"Did you hear that, Will?" Hannibal says, "She uses cooking cream and then has the audacity to call it carbonara."

"Don't you do that as well?" Will asks before realizing he sentenced himself to the death penalty. Even the look on Maeve's face is pitying him.

"I have cooked that for you for at least fifty times, amore." Hannibal says, not even looking at him. "You always watch me cook yet you imply I would commit such an atrocity? Really interesting statements coming today from my daughter and my husband."

Will clears his throat and comes up with something. "When I'm watching you it's very difficult to focus on the food. Especially if your sleeves are rolled up."

"Dad..."

Will gave her the "I'm saving our asses" glance.

"And anyway, when I was saying that Mike's mom makes the best carbonara I was just trying to make you cook that tonight. It was mediocre compared to yours."

Hannibal looks from one to the other, the same innocent puppy eyes.

"You're safe for now." He says, even though the look in his eyes is still stern. "And yes, I will make Carbonara. And not because I need to prove a point but because you need to forget that mediocre taste. Will?"

"Yes?"

"You can watch me if you are so much into it."

[f1-unpopularopinions]

Okay this is a rant

Fans project onto the drivers waaaaaay too much. They push their own emotions, personalities, and points of view on whichever driver is their favorite and try to force everything they say and do to fit that. It’s why there is so much Lando and Oscar hate right now. The fans are desperate for those two to be what they want them to be, usually soft uwu boys. And the minute they deviated away from it, especially Lando, everyone labeled them as evil or arrogant. I’m not even a Lando or Oscar fan and I can see that.

Famously all drivers are extremely competitive, willing to do whatever it takes, think theyre the best, and are assholes on the track. You can’t be in f1 without those traits. But so many fans refuse to admit that and the minute it becomes clear that this is the truth and not whatever fantasy they created, they freak. It’s beyond ridiculous. You should not be a fan of f1 if you can’t handle this. Cause yes, the drivers will say rude things, they will be arrogant about their skills, they will be bitchy about team orders, they will get pissy when they lose, they will usually not get along with their teammate, they will snipe at each other in the press, they will push too hard and hit each other on track and then claim it wasn’t their fault. That’s what happens. That’s fucking f1.

I’ve watched this sport get slowly santitized as the years go on, as new fans come in and decide the things they don’t like must be changed. It’s ridiculous. So now all teammates have to be best friends. So now team orders are evil. So now a driver being upset they didn’t win in ungrateful. So now a team is heartless for cutting an underperforming driver loose. So now all the drivers must be perfectly behaved little princes who are always happy, and grateful, and kind. I cannot imagine how frustrating and demeaning that is for them. I would rip out my own hair if people treated me like that. But no, if a driver expressed frustration with this I can almost guarantee fans would call them spoiled or ungrateful.

And on top of that all they have to contain, you have cameras shoved in their faces wherever they go. Any video you find of a driver, and their are at least five cameras not even a foot away from them. And people scream in their face, and grab them, and expect them to give them time because theyre a fan. Every movement is scrutinized, their facial expression and body language are over analyzed, people make assumptions about their relationships and lives, and they can’t say boo about it. It’s been like this to a smaller extent for years of course but it’s just exploded since honestly DTS. If I had 30 people shoving merch at me screaming my name, I signed it, and then some asshole on the internet made a whole video about how I wasn’t pleasant enough when I was getting mobbed and treated like a commodity I would explode.

I guess to finish off this super long take, I just want to say that f1 drivers will never be what you want them to be. So either fix your expectations and let them be human or stop fucking watching.

Send us your unpopular F1 opinions!

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

two weeks of peak season down, thirteen to go! due to some fortuitously timed cancellations i actually did hit my dream of being a week ahead on prep work (well, at least on answer key making) on tuesday of this past week. it didn’t last long lol (partly due to i was being Insane which seems to have calmed down some knock on wood) but i’ve caught up some more and i’m pretty sure i should be able to get back to a week ahead tomorrow morning while catching up on industry.

this past week i worked about 35 hours, which does remain on the high end for me. i have also tutored every day since last sunday which is not my favorite although both my incredibly far friday night student (i’m talking bay ridge… back to queens that is a commute the length of a feature length movie…) & my saturday kid are taking this week off, which is a huge relief lol. meanwhile the content development side gig continues slowly wrapping up, which is the main reason i am still mostly ignoring everything outside of work i can ignore - i’m basically racing the other active developer for claiming the last few available sets, of which there are 6, although i am not racing very fast because i don’t actually have that much time to work on them and i also am trying not to push my brain into the burnout zone… last fall when i was really actively trying to get on more even financial footing i was very ungenerous about giving my brain time off and it led me to feeling very bad inside all the time for a long while! this year i feel like my goal is really just to get through the season without feeling bad. do what i need to do and not freak out about it, which also entails not putting pressure on myself about things i don’t need to do. perhaps next year my goal will be to do that and also stay in touch with my hobbies and bigger picture goals and such lol. but in the meantime i am being very relaxed with myself about if i want to just read people on reddit talking about john mulaney’s ex-wife’s book everybody hates or whatever, although this week i do want to finish the patrick radden keefe book about human smuggling in chinatown i have on ebook hold.

i played mario kart with some friends & acquaintances this week, i didn’t bail on opening free store even though i kinda wanted to. i have not updated my little habit tracker in A While but i worked out 5 times again this week & hit my step goal; i had to take an extra rest day yesterday due to silent migraine keeping me in sitting jail but today’s was a bodyweight routine so hopefully i can go straight into the one i was set to do tomorrow, since i do really like the friday/sunday rest schedule. i am very stressed about two of my kids’ score trajectories lol but the one whose mom made me do a phone call (why) to be like “yes i have seen students in his position improve no i can’t really promise more than that” just kicked ass on a practice test which was a relief. even though i am spending so much time Highlighting and Content Developing and Admin Doing (my least favorite work task that no one makes me do but me is updating their little homework google docs… but like so often i end a session being like well ok i will see if i can find a worksheet to link you on circle graphs….) i still am actively getting a kick out of my cozy fall routine where i can sleep late and do work in bed while drinking coffee until i’m awake enough to work out. my room is still very messy but it’s literally whatever. if this is the week things start feeling crazy it will only be 13 weeks of craziness which is quite survivable! but also i don’t think it will be (although, like, famous last words, so knock wood!).

[firstprincehornyramblings]

Good afternoon everyone, I'm here and ready to go. Thank you to @tailsbeth-writes and @thighzp for the tags. I started a new Wip, because I have no restraint, but at least I'm working on most of the fic's equally, so you get a snippet from Hairstylist Henry and a peak at the new wip. Under the cut because it's long and a lil spicy

------------- Hairstylist Henry and his (least) Favorite Client

“Hazza, your strumpet is texting the salon automated messenger.” The sigh that Henry heaved was loud enough to be heard a state over. Of course, Alex was texting the salon, why wouldn’t he be? And of course, Pez had to know about it, because both of them had the booking app on their phone. “He couldn’t bother to confirm his appointment, but he can text us to tell me that a single hair is out of place?” the blond complained, taking out his phone, broom handle resting against the opposite shoulder. “That’s not why he’s texting, poppet.” The text that Henry saw when he opened the app was simple, one reply to the receipt and total, to the automated ‘thanks for visiting’ message: ‘Is this your personal phone or is it the company’s number?’ Against all better judgement, Henry inhaled deeply and typed a reply: ‘Hi Alex, this is the number for the salon’s booking service. If you would like to reach me personally you can at 212-924-7178, thanks! See you next time, have a good evening.’ “I saw that!” Percy called from the front of the salon as Henry finished sweeping up.

(no one text that number i made it up but it's probably real please thank you) -----

SNEAKPEAK AT NEW PWP WIP

“I want to fuck you,” Henry panted into that kiss. “You wanna top? I mean, I’m down, just clarifying,” the brunette pulled back with a grin, looking over his boyfriend. “Yes, but- well..” for a moment Henry seemed to fumble with articulating his own words, “I also want to bottom, but I want to top too. Can we do both?” “We can do anything you want, baby,” Alex’s hands found the blond’s waist, kneading at soft skin and gently pulling their hips together, “Actually, I mean that. I’m so proud of you, the way you stood up for yourself today. I think you deserve anything you want,” he hummed, leaning in and pressing soft kisses to the blond’s jaw, “So you’re in charge. This dick is yours; this ass is yours, and this mouth is yours. You use me however you want, sweetheart. I don’t like it, I’ll pull a red or yellow, otherwise, you call all the shots. How does that sound, your majesty?” “I think,” Henry began before reaching between them and wrapping his hand around his boyfriend’s cock, “That’s an excellent idea,” he purred, “Come on!” That was instantly followed by Henry walking toward the bed, tugging the brunette along, gently of course, but very much by his cock. Alex laughed, and waddled, but aside from a ‘hey!!’ put up no protest; perhaps because he secretly loved it.

YAY TAGS (no pressure tags darlings)

@taste-thewaste @eusuntgratie @henrysfox @mikibwrites

@softboynick @catdadacd @sheepywritesfics @henryspearl

@basil-bird @caressthosecheekbones @henfox @onthewaytosomewhere @anti-homophobia-cheese + literally anyone else I'm sleepy and forgot, or anyone who sees this and wants to tag me, I love reading yall's stuff. <3

[xmads-omensx]

It's Okay, I've Got You

Noah Sebastian x reader One Shot

Masterlist

Word Count: 1,736

Content Warnings: Swearing, fluff, slight angst if you squint, thunderstorms

Summary: Y/N has never let Noah stay at her place, and she has never let herself stay at his. Noah gets to the bottom of it one night when a thunderstorm forces her to stay at his place.

Noah and I had been dating for around three months, but hadn’t spent the night at each other’s places yet. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to be able to stay over at his place, or for him to stay at mine, but I just hadn’t made that leap yet.

It wasn’t for Noah’s lack of trying however. He had asked me if I wanted to stay over after movie dates at his place, dinner dates that ran late int the night, even driving aimlessly after getting a drive-thru meal.

He had stayed late at my place, clearly hinting towards him staying the night, but I had always played as being completely oblivious to it.

One night in particular, he was sprawled out on my sofa, with me curled up in his side as we talked about how his tour that he had just finished had been. He was visibly exhausted and all that he wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep “for at least twenty seven days” as he had said to me when he walked through the door of my apartment.

I felt his breathing start to slow as sleep overtook him, and as guilty as I felt about it, I started to shake his shoulder to wake him up. His eyes fluttered awake as he gave me a sleepy smile. “Sorry baby.” He grumbled.

“Do you want me to call you a cab?” I offered, rubbing his arm affectionately. “You probably shouldn’t drive home if you’re this tired honey.”

“I can just crash on your couch if you’re cool with it?” He said, fighting to keep his beautiful brown eyes open.

“No, Noah you need to be in your own bed. You’ve just come back from a big tour.”  I tried to convince him.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But I’m so fucking tired.” He mumbled sleepily.

“Noah, I’m calling you a cab.” I told him, grabbing my phone and booking an uber to take him home.

“Baby I promise I’m fine on the couch.” He tried to convince me.

“Noah. You’re going home and that’s the end of it.” I huffed, frustrated.

I felt guilty for doing this to him, but I didn’t want to have to make up some bullshit excuse and this was the best I could think of. he was just back from tour after all, and a night in his own bed would do him some good.

Truth was, there was a reason that I didn’t want him to stay, and why I couldn’t stay at his place, but I was too embarrassed for him to find out. It all came to a head one night during a terrible thunderstorm that began whilst myself and Noah were curled up on his bed watching Demon Slayer together.

I heard the pitter-patter of rain on the windows and didn’t think much of it. I had always liked rain and it didn’t seem so bad that it would stop me from driving myself back home when our date was over.

Noah pulled me closer into his side as the rain got heavier, making me feel so much cozier and my heart warmed at his action. He kissed the top of my head and rested his cheek there. “Rain’s getting heavier.” He whispered.

“In that case, I should probably head home before it gets worse.” I started to pull away from him as I moved to gather all of my belongings.

“Baby no, just stay.” He protested.

“No, Noah, it’s fine. I don’t live far and the roads will be quiet. It’s fine.” I grabbed my phone charger and shoved it into my bag, moving to grab my phone and car keys off of his bedside table. Before I could, Noah grabbed my hand and placed a kiss on the back of it.

“Please baby, I want you to stay. Plus you hate driving in the dark.” He tried to convince me.

“It’s fine. It’s a short drive. I’ll send you a photo of me with a spoon on my head or some shit like that so you know I’m home safe.” I said with a laugh.

“Baby it’s raining.” He said.

“It’s not that bad and I’m sure it’ll pass soon.” I replied.

As soon as those words left my mouth, a huge crack of lightning lit up Noah’s bedroom, followed by a huge crash of thunder.

“Okay, you’re definitely not going anywhere.” Noah stated, standing up and walking towards his wardrobe. “I’ve got some clothes you can borrow and then you can head back to your place tomorrow.”

I couldn’t control the fear that overtook my body as tears involuntarily fell down my face.

“Here’s an old shirt you can borrow…” Noah trailed off once he had turned back round to face me. “What’s up baby?” he walked over to me, placing the folded shirt on his bed, before taking me into a warm hug.

“Nothing it’s fine.” I mumbled into his hoodie.

“It’s not nothing if you’re crying babe. What’s going on?” He pushed.

“It’s embarrassing and you’ll laugh at me.” I said, looking at my feet.

“How about you get changed and we get into bed and we can talk about it?” Noah suggested.

Feeling defeated, I nodded my head and shuffled towards his ensuite bathroom. Locking the door, I looked up into the mirror and saw that my eyes had started to become puffy and my makeup had started to run. This was so fucking dumb.

After wiping my face clean with some of the makeup wipes Noah had bought when I started to hang out at his place more, I realised that I was going to have to tell him my deep, dark, embarrassing secret.

Accepting my defeat, I unlocked the bathroom door and opened it. I was greeted by Noah already sat in bed with a warm smile. The room was now only illuminated by his LED lights that were turned on a warm orange.

“Feel better baby?” Noah asked softly. I nodded weakly in reply, walking towards the bed. I hopped up and curled up with my head resting on Noah’s chest.

“You want to talk about it?” He whispered. I shrugged my shoulders. “It might help to talk about it.”

“It’s embarrassing and you’ll laugh at me.” I sighed in defeat.

“I swear to god, I won’t laugh. I would never laugh at you, beautiful.” He reassured.

“Imscaredofthedark.” I quickly mumbled into his bare chest.

“Hmm?” He questioned. “What did you say baby, I didn’t hear you.”

I sighed and said quietly, “I’m scared of the dark.”

There was a beat of silence before either of us spoke up again.

“I’m scared of heights.” Noah stated simply.

“What?” Questioned.

“Sorry, are we not just listing things that we are scared of?” He asked with a smile on his face.

“No Noah! I’m being serious. I’m scared, and I was too embarrassed to stay over or for you to stay over at my place and see my stupid fucking nightlight and laugh at me! There! I said it! Happy now?” I yelled at him in frustration.

“Wait here.” Noah got out of bed, put a shirt on and left his bedroom. I could hear footsteps pattering down the stairs. I sat back and sighed in frustration. He was going to leave me because I’m so fucking childish and too much of a pussy to be taken seriously by any man ever. Fuck my life.

About ten minutes had passed and Noah still wasn’t back. Oh my god. Was he downstairs telling Jolly and Jesse? They would all be laughing at me too!

There was never a real reason why the dark scared me so much. I knew nothing would hurt me. I guess it was always just the idea of being alone in a space that didn’t allow me to see everything. The unknown aspect of it always creeped me out.

That’s why my grandmother had bought me a nightlight when I moved out of the family home. She was the only one who had ever taken my phobia seriously. She had passed away about a year ago, and no one had ever understood me since, so I just stopped telling people when my nightlight came up in conversation, or staying over at other people’s houses.

Tears welled up in my eyes again and I began to cry softly into Noah’s pillow that still smelled like him.

Suddenly, his bedroom door opened slowly and in walked Noah. His hair was wet and his shirt was drenched and stuck to his chest. I looked at him with an expression of pure confusion. He whipped off his wet shirt and threw it in the laundry basket before grabbing a towel and drying hir hair slightly.

He held out his Bad Omens bag and handed it to me, then climbed back into bed and sat where he previously was.

“Where did you go?” I asked.

“Open the bag.” He smiled down at me, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

I pulled on the zipper and opened the bag. Inside was a nightlight. But, not just any nightlight, MY nightlight. The one from my apartment. He had gone out in the thunderstorm and gotten it for me.

“Do you want to do the honours or should I?” He asked with a smile.

“What?” I replied. Still in slight shock from this romantic gesture.

“Plug it in? Do you want to do it, or should I?”

“Hmm… You can.” I said.

“Hang on then.” He gently took the nightlight from my hands and walked over to the outlet that was next to his bedroom door. He turned it on and it lit up with a soft, warm glow. Noah waked back over to the bed and climbed in. he then reached over to his bedside table and turned off his LED lights, making the room darker.

Noah could feel my body tense up slightly, so he pulled me closer to him and placed a kiss on top of my head.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He whispered as he slowly began to rock me back and forth to comfort me. “Nothing is going to hurt you. Not when I’m here.”

I could feel sleep take over my body as I listened to his calming, steady heartbeat.

That was the best night sleep I had gotten in years.

[starlightsmoon]

[Read at Ao3]

List of poor souls he’s gonna suck some money out of? Check. Excuses of being from some relative of the Toghrul that hit it off with their bird rearing business? Check, he’ll be able to recite the lines in his sleep. Clothes? Simple black shirt that took half of his savings - Oh how he sacrificed for the minimalistic rich aesthetic - He looks like those guys who’d get those mova globes as a toy when he was five. (He had sticks, pieces of glass he called crystal and a pet rock.)

He didn't have it in him to feel bitter about that anymore though. He slurped on way too many pumpkin spice lattes for that.

The birdbrain he’s gonna be swiping from might never have had it before. Gotta pity them for never having a sugar bomb corporate cash grab.

Oh he almost forgot, hair? Looks fancy enough to him. Giving the bristles another swipe in front of the hand mirror dangling from his apartment door and swiping the keys from his beloved plant soldier, Nuggets. 

-

His mark looks as tired and anxious as always, swirling - well, trying to. Obi still can’t believe the guy has a gold bar as a door stopper - the vodka in his hand and though it kinda turns into more of a disturbance to the liquid relief in the cup.

“Hey there.” What was his name again? Oh well, it’ll slide off his tongue eventually. 

The man had been a loser who was probably a bit more into feet than he should be, and had been dabbling in drugs that Obi doubts the guy can actually live after intaking. He’s drank quite a couple of drinks with him for the past months. Hell, the man has made Tuesday be labeled as ‘drinking for the money’ day in his calendar - He kinda admits, even with his totally admirable work ethics, that he loathes Tuesdays now - to his dismay, Torou said she’d love to take it over from him if he didn’t want it. And though he really doesn’t wanna hear any more mommy issues and glorification of drug addiction, he’ll get through it.

“Oh hello Nanaki.” 

He was surprised when Mr. Foot Stuff actually was sober enough to remember his name, but today was special so he’ll give him some props, he normally dialed him when he was down to half a brain and third of manners and a non-existent filter about how much chipped toenails have a charm.

Obi gets seated in the stool next to him - lets the man order fucking champagne for him without his input - and puts his honey filter on. He normally gets lazy with this guy but he’ll have to be on high alert, can’t let him get any second thoughts after all.

“So regarding what we talked about-”

-

-God he’s got the sweetest deal of the century, he’s gonna be ordering those fancy ass kaleidoscopes just you wait.

-

If he survives this, he’s gonna buy Torou a ticket that shitty boy band concert and he’ll make it so that she cries for it. Hell, he’ll even buy Haruka one of those tacky you’re the best dad mugs too. Of course unless he gives him a lecture and attitude then that is gonna be replaced with a your the best dad mug instead.

Not that he doesn’t deserve the attitude though.

But can you blame him? The guy seemed like the best catch he was gonna get there, and cherry on top being that he was gonna get it by just sipping booze. He wasn’t wrong either, just that conning his dad’s company while he was at it didn’t seem like a bad idea.

Who knew that old fuck was running a human trafficking business. 

He didn’t at the least. But now Obi finally got the biggest con of his life, with a boatload of money that he’s shipping to Wistal for it to be Haruka’s problem and taking the railways to wherever his heart takes him cause he has no fucking clue what he paid for at the ticket stand.

But the redhead that’s his roommate seems nice, though it’d be nicer if he could stop looking at her,

-

She’s got a lotta luggage, and she’s so careful with it.

It makes his one duffle bag packed with some clothes and a toothbrush look quite sad in comparison. He regrets selling off the suitcase. It’d make a statement and he would be able to disguise himself as a rich conglomerate, even if he doesn’t have his extra shiny shoes and rocking a plain button-up and jeans, he’d be able to make it work- he’s done it in worse before. Wait, did he pack any shoes at all? 

“Hello.” a meek voice breaks his thoughts, and he can worry about being shoeless later.

“Uhm, is there any issue if I put some of these,” she gestures to her four suitcases and plus one tote bag he can see peeking out from the one plastered with stickers of flowers and beach umbrellas ”On your space?” She points to the tray above him that’s a bit too close to his head for comfort, he’s nearly smacked his head on the damn thing four times already. Thankfully his lightning quick reflexes and prowess triumphs the future bump on his head he’s definitely gonna be dealing with.

She’s already attacking her bottom lip and clutching at her sweater. He’d be a monster if he said no.

“Sure but you gotta tell me one thing,“ he really doesn’t need the space, his luggage was acting as his foot rest just until she arrived. It really didn’t need his permission anyways.

Unluckily for her, he may not have been a monster but he sure is something close to it.

“Do you think a hotdog is a sandwich?”

And judging by the way she tilts her head, furrows her brows and stops her abuse on her lips; He’s gonna be having a fun time.

-

He has confirmed she’s not a psychopath, and surprisingly seems to not want to murder him and throw him out the window for more room to put her suitcases in. Yet. 

And it seems like his ticket and the place she’s headed to have the same spelling, which means he can actually thank himself for once, a pretty lady on his trip to become a nobody doesn’t seem so bad.

 “So, my name is Shirayuki, I’m a botanist, and I really appreciated the help.” he’s sure that lugging around some suitcases was not worth the smile bestowed upon him, - It’s way too trustful for somebody like him - but he’ll have a cute face smile at him anyday.

“Well Miss, you can call me Obi, I’m a guy with many secrets,” Obi earns a giggle that he’s sure that’ll haunt his dreams. 

“And no problem, though I admit I mourn the sight of you struggling to hop around with suitcases.” and before he knows it, his hand reaches out for a shake. He should probably get rid of that-

She clasps his hand, “Nice to meet you Obi.” and suddenly, all words die in his throat.

Her hands are soft.

He struggles not to whimper as the words leave with his tongue without permission, “Nice to meet you too, Miss.”

And her laugh is way too pretty.

[ricky-mortis]

Howdy hello- guess who made a wings au :)

More to come with this eventually- I’m working on my designs for other characters at the moment, but for now we’ve got Red-Tailed Hawk for Curt and Eagle Owl for Owen.

For DMA I had Barn Owl wings because a) Barn Owls are beautiful and I wanted to draw the wings for them, and more importantly, b) Owen would probably want to disguise his wings, and it would make sense if it was as a different type of owl. I just assume he’d dye his feathers in some way or another. Look- just don’t think about it too much.

[giantkillerjack]

Uh-oh! You are like, SOOO awkward!!

You're so awkward that it is occasionally mildly uncomfortable for people!

You're so awkward that sometimes people are confused by you and then there are awkward silences!

You're so awkward ...... that ultimately no one is harmed!!

Oh damn!!! What a vile crime you have committed! What an unforgivable thing it is to make a fellow human briefly confused!

Why, if *I* were ever briefly confused and kind of uncomfortable as a result, I'd be devastated.... by the absolute net zero change in my happiness and health! - From which I might never recover!! Yes indeed! No punishment can ever be enough for you!!

So you better absolutely hate yourself for it.

Better be SO MEAN to yourself about every single missed social cue so you don't forget your horrible crime! Meaner than you'd ever dream of being to someone else for the same thing! This is YOUR responsibility!

You need to show the world that you KNOW you are bad by punishing yourself constantly! After all, think of all the people who BENEFIT from you punishing yourself! - No, really! Think about it! Think about who benefits from your pain.

Think of alllllll the definitely-good people that your definitely-necessary self-torment definitely helps! I mean, you can't just cut off their definitely-life-sustaining supply of your suffering, right?? Sure, everyone else has a breaking point, but you're probably the only person in human history who doesn't, right? Best not to question it probably. Sure, it's a symptom that billions of people with trauma have had, but who knows? You could be a one-in-seven-billion exception. Anything's possible!

Instead, better just accept that idea that bullies carry like guns in holsters - the idea that people who have trouble with social cues deserve to suffer. Better carry on the burden they placed on you until you drop. Aid the cause of the callous by enforcing shame and suffering upon yourself extra hard; try your best to do their work for them. They're very busy.

Better not recognize that you need patience and kindness to heal from your trauma. Better not find out that it was trauma rather than personal weakness filling your head with self-hating thoughts. Better not find out it wasn't your fault.

Better not find out that awkwardness is not inherently harmful or unkind, and, in fact, the people who act like it is *are the ones enacting harm and being cruel.*

Better not get righteously angry when you realize just how much unnecessary damage this has done to you. After all, if you get mad, you might realize you deserve better. You might even feel brave enough to DEMAND better! You might build boundaries that keep you safe! You might make other people think they deserve to feel safe too! And we obviously can't be having that, so...

Better not show yourself even a little kindness a little bit at a time.

Better not make a habit out of it after all that practice.

Better not get confident.

Especially if you can't first wipe out every trace of awkward. (And you probably never will. Because people who experience absolute social certainty at all times tend to be insufferable assholes that enforce the status quo. And you just don't have the stock portfolio for that.)

Better not be confident and awkward because then you might confuse and delight people

- you might accidentally end up making other people feel less shame for their social difficulties

- you might make isolated, traumatized, and shy people feel like they deserve to be included in social situations

- you might even make them feel they can be themselves around you

- you might start loving the effect you have on a room

- you might enjoy conversations more

- you might forgive yourself and bounce back from shame more easily and frequently

- you might come to enjoy some of those moments of harmless confusion you cause because NOBODY expects the Confident Awkward, and that can genuinely be an advantage in social situations

- you might stop apologizing so much.

- you might find that socializing is like a video game: it requires practice but also a safe space for it to be fun and positive.

Or if you can't become assertive and confident, better not remain awkward and shy and quiet, and then love and forgive yourself anyway!

Why, it would be carnage!!

In either scenario, you run the risk of finding out that it's not your fault that safe spaces full of kind people can be really hard to find, create, and nurture. You could end up building a skillset that helps you do those things if you're not careful!

If you start giving yourself even the tiniest amount of grace at a time, you will find that you've accessed a gateway drug with extreme long-term side effects:

- You might realize that it was never your fault that it took so long to like yourself.

- You might realize that you were always worth talking to, even when you didn't like yourself and communication felt impossibly difficult.

- You might realize that you'll still be worth talking to even if communication becomes harder as you age and/or experience disability.

- You might come to know that you deserve to be heard even on bad days when words come slow and blurry.

You might discover that you were always deserving of kindness, first and foremost from yourself.

So. As you can see, it's FAR too much of a risk to start granting your awkward self free pardons for your many heinous and harmless crimes. Better to just leave it there.

[newtness532]

i know that graduating one semester later is not that big of a deal and i haven't made any plans about what comes next so it doesnt even make a difference. so why does it feel just so terrible

[raininyourblackeyes]

My cousin, a published writer, a well-known poet in my country and a literature professor, for whom I've always been no.1 support ever since her first attempts at writing in high school, told me that I must stop writing as a hobby because that's her thing and since I'm writing fantasy mostly my writing could never have any important artistic value anyways.

[b4kuch1n]

dedramatization

transcript

this is, indeed, fanart for @metanoia-blues! just straight up aped a whole scene from the latest episode (ep. 70) to draw into comic form lol. what a time I chose to join back in on the journey