#do you know how strong you have to be to be able to think like this? to always ALWAYS see the bright side of things

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: 18+ daddy kink, sexual content, phone sex

"Whit do ye think, LT?"

Simon vaguely hears Johnny's voice. It's somewhere in the background, something he's not dialed into right at this moment, since they're not in an active situation.

For now.

Instead, they're all holed up in safe house with shitty mattresses, shitty couches, and thin walls crowded inside a concrete box. Simon's on his back, on the couch, flicking through his camera roll, picture after picture of you and the baby filling the screen. There are new ones, ones you've sent over the last three weeks, and when he fires off a text to let you know his phone is on for a little bit, you send a video back almost immediately.

"That the wee one?" Johnny says from over his shoulder, and Simon nods, clicking play.

"Okay Ry, let's show daddy," Orion's on his tummy in the living room, holding his head up, staring at you behind the phone. He's giggling a little, smiling, wriggling around, and you place one of his toys just out of his reach, to the left. "You can do it bub, come on. Daddy wants to see." There's more encouragement, Orion rocking back and forth on his belly and kicking his feet-

before rolling over completely onto his back.

"Good job bub! What a strong boy." You pull him into your arms, his back to your chest, legs up over yours, and turn the phone so the video shows both of you. "So, that's a thing." You smile, and kiss his head. "Think we'll have a crawler on our hands soon." Something sad flickers in your gaze and you chase it away. "Anyway, we uh... we miss you. Call tonight?" A knot forms in his throat, and he practically leaps off the couch, making for the back door. Johnny calls after him, but he pays it no mind.

>Can you take a call now?

>You just missed him, I'm so sorry. He's asleep :(

>That's okay. I want to talk to you.

>Okay, sure.

"Hello?" You're not quite whispering, but your voice is still soft, careful, and he closes his eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey. How are you?"

"Fine. Can't believe he's rolling over." You stifle a small laugh.

"I know. He's going to be crawling soon, I can feel it. Keeps trying to push himself up with his arms and scoot his legs forward. It's cute. He looks like a seal." You sigh, and he gets lost in it, honey sweet spiderweb trapping him in the middle, tangling him up for the feast, your fangs already deeply embedded in his flesh.

That's what you are. Something under his skin. Something possessing him down to the marrow. A man who only takes orders from one other-

willing to say 'how high' if you would only say 'jump'.

He hears his promise every day, every night, ringing in his ears.

Johnny thinks he's flipped a switch somewhere. Gaz says he's more bloodthirsty than he's ever seen.

John just smiles at him, a knowing look in his eye, a mutual understanding.

He's going home, no matter what. If he has to kill every single soul he comes across, that's what happens.

He made a promise.

"Hope he waits." He tries to control the rough scrape of his voice, but it's still there.

"I'm sure he will." You're gentle in your reassurance, kind. His kitten.

"How's he doin' otherwise?"

"Good. Fussing has calmed down a bit, thank god, but I think he misses daddy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you pause, small intake of breath, a barely there gasp. "I miss him too." He takes a cursory look around, and then drops the tone of his voice.

"Y'miss daddy, sweet girl?" The two of you have been dancing around this, for the last week. Since landing at the safe house, he's been able to call almost every night, sometimes he catches Orion when he's up and sometimes he only catches you, and recently, you've been engaging him with sexually charged late night conversations that make him jerk his cock behind a locked door somewhere, and come into his own hand.

Feels like a waste. He wonders if you'd let him get you pregnant again.

He doesn't even know if you can have sex right now, to be honest. He knows you tore, badly. Knows you had stitches. Knows you're probably still nursing the wounds, physically and mentally.

That's okay. He'll wait. He'll wait as long as he needs to. For this. For you.

He doesn't know where the change came from either, but he's not complaining. Or questioning. He's indulging and dreaming and telling you to reach into your pajama pants to touch yourself for him while he's tossing off on the other end of the line.

If he had to guess, he'd say the distance has given you some sort of courage, some sort of emboldenment to feel it out, gain comfortability.

The killing makes him extra rank, fills him with ardor for you, for his life now. He's always felt purpose, devotion, to his job, the 141, but now, there's a higher altar to lay himself at, a higher calling.

Getting a ring on your finger, for one.

"Are you in bed mama?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Gonna play with your pussy for me?"

"Oh god." You groan, but it's breathy, wild on the other end of the line, a whole world away.

"Tell daddy what you're doing, honey." He's rock hard, so much it aches, but he's not going to fulfill the burning need right now. He wants to be focused on you. "Are you touching yourself?"

"Y-yes."

"Does it feel nice?" You whine. "Rubbing your pretty little clit f'me, making it feel good?”

"Oh my god- yeah."

"Daddy's so proud of you, sweetheart. Taking such good care of Orion. Taking good care of yourself, making yourself cum since he can't be there to do it for you." You moan, unintelligible, nectarous melody on the wind. "I wish I was there. I think about the night we made our baby all the time, how you looked spread out on your bed, taking all my cum like a good girl."

"Oh, oh-"

"Took my cock so pretty, mama. Did so good, fit me like a glove." You're panting, tiny, bright whines slipping free, and he knows you're close. "Don't stop. Let me hear you." He orders, slipping a palm over the swollen mass of his cock.

"Fuck, daddy-"

"Keep going honey, come on." He can nearly hear your teeth grinding.

"I'm cumming, oh- daddy, I'm, I'm-" There's a shuffle, a high pitched gasp, and then you go silent, breathing heavily into the phone.

"Good job, mama."

He's sour by the end of week four. Muscles tight from the agony of being away, awful visions, nightmares, rotting the frontside of his brain when he closes his eyes.

The balaclava is heavy with blood now, everyday. Red stains white, fetid and curdled, trying to strain through his teeth.

They've moved from the safe house. The phone calls are only a dream. He turns his phone on for five minutes every other day, desperate to download the photos you're sending, only to get one out of the ten. Can't text you back.

At night, he stands outside with his chin tilted up, orientating himself with the skies, searching for Orion in the cosmic chaos. It takes time, too long, but eventually he spots it, south west in the sky, glittering alongside the moon. His stars. His moon.

John tries to temper him. "You'll have to get better at this, if you're planning to stay, Simon. It won't get easier, but you can ease the ache."

It's never been a question about staying, he's served the 141 for far too long to give it up now. The want is incredibly selfish, but he doesn't consider himself the other kind of man, the one who would take a desk job or sacrifice his duty. His life's work, essentially.

He's not a good man. But he's yours. He won't have it any other way.

Kyle's got a girl at home now, he tells Simon. Maybe we should introduce them, ya know LT? Give em someone to lean on, when we're gone. A brilliant idea, if he's ever heard one. Though he's not surprised. Gaz is the top of his class in everything.

He and Johnny speed run through the last part of the op, raining hell down upon everyone in his path, and he finally sees that crazy glint in Soap's eyes, the one that's been missing this entire time.

"Was fun, LT." He slurs the night before exfil, glass of whiskey lax in his hand. "Almost sad to be goin' home."

Not too long ago, he might agree. But now that he's staring down the barrel of five and a half too long weeks, he can't wait for it to be over.

>Hey

>Hey omg, I've been worried.

>All's good. On our way to base now. Gonna shower here, change. Alright if I come over after?

>Yes.

He’s a livewire stepping off the bird. Three paces behind Gaz, he’s trying to type out a text to you, hardly paying attention, spreading his stride to close the gap between him and the showers.

“Hey darling.” Gaz is wrapping someone up in his arms, pretty little thing with dimples, Simon barely glances up-

And then nearly trips over his boots, tongue tied to see you standing behind Kyle’s new girl, sundress swinging at your thighs, Orion babbling away on your hip.

His bag drops.

He sprints.

“Ah!” You shriek as he tugs you into him, lifting you and the baby with an arm under the plush of your ass. “Simon, oh my god-“ you curl forward, free hand gripping his shoulder, and he presses his mouth to yours.

“Missed you mama.” Your top teeth bite into your bottom lip, bashful and sweet. “You too, bub.” You kiss him again, longer this time, ignoring the whooping from Johnny in the background.

“Welcome home.”

[dragonsholygrail]

*rolls into chat*

Hi. I'm sharing this because of your last post btw

Firefighter centaur!

Reader has to help him get all the gear off after a long tiring day because that's a LOT of hair for someone who works with fires and accidents.

*welcomes into chat with open arms*

And omg this is so good!! (I went off, my bad!) I also had to re-write this entire thing when I was almost done because my tumblr crashed and I’m absolutely devastated but worth it for firefighter centaur.

Imagine firefighter centaur works in forest fires so it’s all the more dangerous and on such a bigger scale when he does get called in. Which of course makes reader even more nervous whenever there’s a fire.

Constantly pacing the living room of your shared home, biting your nails, with your eyes latched firmly on to the tv. Not being able to look away for even a second. Just waiting to hear any news about the crew of centaur firefighters as they come in and out of the blazing flames.

Your heart drops heavily into your stomach as you catch sight of him, being able to recognize him anywhere. You find yourself unable to breathe as you watch your partner jump over a burning trunk with ease. All while carrying a handful of nymphs to safety. A couple in his arms and a few riding his back.

Watching your partner be so heroic like that takes your breath away. Or maybe it’s just because you’re relieved he’s alive. Either way it sends a violent need to thrum through your body. A need to go to him and be near him, no matter the risk. You don’t hesitate for a moment and you’re out of the house before you can even turn off the television.

There’s barricades all over the place when you arrive at the scene. Your eyes search frantically around the area, looking for just one feature that you’re familiar with to find him. But your heart is hammering within your chest and your mind spins with more horrible ‘what ifs’ by the minute.

Given your state, it was no surprise to you that he found you first, calling out your name. You whirl around till your eyes fall onto him. Both of you immediately start heading toward each other. You meet in the middle, arms wrapping tightly around each other. Your firefighter centaur smells so thickly of smoke you want to choke. But none of that matters because he’s in your arms and in one piece. No matter how much of his fur is singed.

“What the hell are you doing here? You could have been hurt!” Your partner shouts, sounding almost as frantic as you feel. He leans back enough to cup your face in his hands, looking as though he’s wondering if this is real.

“I saw you- I saw you come through the fire. And there’s so many things on you that it could’ve caught onto. I had to. I had to come. I had to see you and make sure…” you ramble on, words spilling from your mouth. Your mind unraveling now that you know he's sate. "You're alive."

His face softens considerably and he brings you back into his arms.

"Well you got here just in time. I think the fires coming down anyway." He holds you tight and you clutch onto him just as fiercely. Using his strong hold to assure yourself he's really here.

After you both get back to the firehouse you slowly and gently help him take off all his gear. You can tell he's seriously exhausted. Eyes drooping, shoulders slumped, and tail swooshing lazily.

You let him relax as you get started on cleaning up and preparing his gear for washing. It's a rigorous ritual all on its own and you know he's in no state to take care of it right now. But when he blinks his eyes open and realizes what you're doing, it doesn't stop him from trying to do it anyway.

“Hey, stop that. I can do it fine,” he sluggishly tries to interrupt, not wanting you to do his work for him.

All you have to do is shy away from his mindlessly wandering hands, bringing his gear with you. Unintelligible grumbles leave his lips in response.

“I know how to do it. Watched you so many times it would be an insult if I didn’t. I got this,” you assure him.

After all he went through he doesn’t have the energy to fight you on this. When he doesn’t reply you go back to helping situate his gear. You hear the heavy clops of his hooves and a moment later his arms are wrapping around you from behind, his head resting comfortably on top of your head.

“Thank you,” he says softly, those two words alone dripping with appreciation and love for you.

The firehouse is empty, you two being the last ones left to finish up for the night. It’s in that moment, his body curled up around you as you help him in a way that means more than he can describe, that it was as if neither of you had ever felt safer.

[luckykiwiii101]

A Tendency To Kill…

And It Takes One To Know One….

Hey Upper East Siders.

Words out that it’s been…6 months since you’ve been sitting on your ass, procrastinating. Maybe that why it’s so flat…

Wait…you haven’t been procrastinating?

What a shame. When B built a bridge, it all came crashing down. Well maybe, the bolts weren’t strong enough.

Persist once. Shame on you. Persist twice. The blame’s on you. Persisting is nothing if you aren’t out to persist forever. Because your persistence should result in the 3D also showing you proof later…meaning that you can’t just “stop” persisting when it’s right in-front of you. If you know what I mean.

But what’s “persisting” if you don’t take it seriously.

If you ask me, you’re too bold playing around with the only thing holding your hope for a bright future. Or any future at all.

The only way to persist is, with a tendency to kill.

Woah woah woah!! Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves here and unleash the murderers roaming tumblr.

What I mean is…murder the old state. Until it no longer exists. Replace it with your new state.

You’ve already created the monster that you call “yourself” today. So what makes you think you can’t create another one. Except, this new one will be more in your favour. Completely in your favour.

Done with being nice. Because look how ever so far that’s gotten you…

You’re out to kill. (Metaphorically incase some of you illiterate dumb fucks can’t get this information into your brain, as usual, because if you did, you’d be sitting in your mansion right now, or wherever you desire, just anywhere but your lazy arse).

A wise girl once said, peak failure is the moment you’re too lazy to get off your metaphorical arse and persist, even though it doesn’t require getting off your physical arse. How embarrassing. Now how do you stoop that low….into your couch. You’re leaving a dent. It’s been ages. The springs must feel a new awakening when you finally choose to get up. If you get up. Don’t you feel butt hurt? Like literally? I cant imagine. How will you be able to do anything? Instead of running on treadmills and getting absolutely nowhere, quite literally. Instead venture into your mind, and actually get somewhere. You know you create your reality. Yet you refuse to…

The old you no longer exists. The old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now. And I mean literally. Get the hell off your phone, and start applying instead of scrolling tumblr searching for answers you already know the answer to.

You haven’t truly persisted if you haven’t drowned the old state in the new state. You’re somebody else now. And if you ever return to your old self, then you never truly claimed your new state. Only call yourself a success when you actually persist. And currently, by the looks of it you aren’t.

Cmon, try it. You’ll start to like who you become along the way. Wouldn’t it be satisfying to give yourself what you deserve?

Well either way, it’s not my problem what life you choose to live. Nobody’s going to shake you out of your trance when we all leave with our success stories, and you’re just…here.

And if books could kill, we wouldn’t wanna be you…since all you really seem to do is look for more info in them. It’s about time they bite your face off. You’re supposed to be attending Constance Billard/St Jude’s private school, not Hogwarts.

I hope I don’t see you here instead of enjoying your summer with your dream life. How many summers have gone by? I’m losing track. Well I guess some things never change…especially you.

- gossip girl

[kingkaizen]

hi, I love your works <3. would you by chance be open to writing about kashimo? if so, could you possibly write a smut about overstimming him while riding him 🤗🤗 thanks in advance

∘ a/n: thank you my love <3 that means so much to me, i hope you enjoy!

∘ ft: kashimo

∘ includes: overstimulation, riding, praise

“Fuck, please d-don’t do this to me.” Kashimo’s desperate voice broke through his lips, eyes struggling to stay on you. He felt too good, your wet cunt moving rhythmically above him. It was almost suffocating, your hungry walls squeezing him in and refusing to let him back out. You could feel his tip hitting your sweet spot over and over again, the feeling becoming addictive as you continued to show him no mercy. 

Although he may be one of the strongest, even the strongest can fall. 

Kashimo is in complete disbelief, how could he allow someone like you to get him in a position like this?! Making his guard go completely down, letting you control the pace. He already came twice at this point, with no end in sight. 

“Aww Hajime, you doing okay? You want me to stop?” Your sweet voice almost pissed him off. It felt patronizing, having the nerve to ask him if he’s okay knowing damn well what you’re doing to him. 

“I-I’m fine, woman” Kashimo scoffs, “just enjoying how well your pretty pussy takes all of me, I’m so proud of you.” His sudden praise turned you on, at least that’s what he thinks from the way you pulsed around him. He began to feel his body tingle, balls tightening up.

“Go ahead Haji’, cum for me again.” As much as he couldn’t stand being told what to do, he couldn’t help but let go. He filled you up so well, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he thrusted up into you. Kashimo felt so pathetic, he couldn't believe that he's just allowing you to tell him what to do like this. However, he couldn’t even fight it if he wanted to, the warmth of your cunt causing him to feel so overwhelmed.

“Baby,” Kashimo lets out in a shaky breath, hands on either side of your waist. “I can’t a-anymore.” 

“Yes you can, handsome.” You lower yourself onto him once again, watching him groan in overstimulation as your walls squeeze him further. “What happened to my strong man? I thought you of all people would be able to take it.”

Your words angered him, but that emotion quickly fizzled out as you continued to bounce up and down his throbbing length. The sound of skin hitting skin mixed with his previous orgasms made his head spin. You begin to feel yourself getting close too, watching Kashimo completely unravel underneath you.

“I’m gonna -fuck- gonna cum again.”Kashimo could barely get his words out, watching the strings of your arousal connect and break apart over and over again. Your orgasm hit you without warning, a squeal leaving your lips as you felt your body shake on top of his. It didn’t take long for Kashimo to follow, face scrunching up as he released once more, stuffing you full. 

You leaned over to litter his face in kisses, using this vulnerable state of his to leave as many as you could. He couldn’t help but smile, kissing you back as his hand caressed your face. Before you could react, he quickly flipped you over, sweet smile turning mischievous as he hovered above you.

“It’s my turn now, be a good girl for me would ya?”

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[its-alittleobssessed]

Could you imagine being Dean Winchester and constantly sacrificing everything for everyone else. Your food, your freedom, your happiness, and your free will for everyone else and then this guy comes in. This man who isn’t really a man.

He comes in when you’re at your lowest low. When you have succumbed and given your life, your hopes, and your morals to hell and he reaches you and touches you and says. You deserve good things. Means, I will make sure you get good things.

And you don’t believe him at first but then he says, I rebelled, Im hunted. I did it, all of it, for you. And not so much later, I’m doing this for you, Dean. And few years down the line, he gives up an army for you. And his own life a few times. And it gets to the point where you—who prides themselves on never asking for anything or believing in anything—you start asking him for things. Start trusting that he will provide them. Start having faith in him.

He stays and you realize that you’ve never had to sacrifice anything for that. For him to stay.

And he—this man who literally fell from the heavens—sacrifices all of it, including heaven, for you to stay.

And it is such a stark contrast to what you’re used to. Such an insane flip of everything you’ve ever known, that you don’t know how to deal with it. You don’t understand, don’t know how to handle it, so you try pushing him away. You yell and say ugly things and, once, (though you didn’t mean to—weren’t entirely yourself) you even hit him. And still. He sees all that bad inside you and all the bad you’ve done and he still. He still stays. He still tries to stay.

It messes with your head. Something happens inside of you and you think—you think you might love him. Maybe it’s all the sacrifices he’s done and the fact that you haven’t been able to match him up to them. But maybe it’s his kindness, too. And he’s funny in a weird—no one gets his humor but you—kind of way. He’s strong and capable. A good listener.

And he’s—he’s beautiful, too. Devastatingly so.

He’s good with kids. He gets you. Likes your music and starts singing along to Zepp when its just you two in the car. He’s so much more than what he’s given you (he says the same thing about you) and you don’t deserve him but he doesn’t seem to mind.

It’s the sacrifices that are messing with your head but maybe it’s just him too. Maybe he’s just everything you’ve ever wanted.

He says you don’t have to sacrifice anything anymore. Not with him. And for the first time since you were a kid—it’s true.

[amoremainslayer]

What do you think zb1's favorite positions are

THEIR FAVORITE POSITIONS

Pairing : Ot8 zb1 x fem!reader

Genre: smut, drabble

Warnings: nsfw under the cut, nsfw for gunwook (scroll or block me if you feel uncomfortable)

A/n : no bc this got me thinking hard🤭🤭 Also the kendrick vs drake beef got me GAGGED

Jiwoong - Doggy

Jiwoong is obsessed with your ass, that's a fact. His hands are always on or close to it. Be it putting his hand in your backpocket in public, or having him hold your hips, his fingers dangerously close to the soft flesh. Obviously that also counts for when the two are intimate. He's always grabbing onto your ass, loving the way it felt beneath his fingers. Just the sight of you bending down leaves him hard, so he obviously loves fucking you from behind. His hands spanking your ass every few thrusts as your skin slapped together. It felt like heaven to him, seeing the way your back arched and your ass jiggled with each movement.

Zhanghao -Cowboy

Hao is the definition of switch. He loves being the dom, calling you names and thrusting into your cunt. But he also loved getting teased by your hand throughout the night. One position that gives him both the chance to be dominant and submissive is cowboy. He loves having his hands on your waist, letting you fuck yourself on his cock. The way your chest bounces with each thrust makes him want to take them into his mouth (and trust me he does). But he can also hold your hips, thrusting up into you relentlessly. Cowboy truly gives hao the most of everything.

Hanbin - Missionary

Hanbin uses sex to show you just how much he loves you. Obviously there are moments where he's rougher with you, but it's important to him that you always know just how much he adores your body and mind. The position that is ALWAYS in your sessions is missionary. Being able to love on your body freely while whispering loving things into your ear gives hanbin the most pleasure. Even when he's rough he tends to go into missionary, holding your hips or waist while hitting all the perfect spots inside of you.

Matthew - In his arms

Matthew has a strength kink, we all know that. I feel like in your daily life he doesn't even flaunt his strength that much, even tho both of you know he could take you down with one hand. But as soon as you two get intimate, he thrives to let you know just how strong he really is. Holding you up in his arms while fucking up into you feels like heaven to him. He gets to feel your warm cunt envelope his length while also working out!

Taerae - 69

To taerae, 69 is the most convenient position ever. Being able to pleasure both of you at the same time just is so mind blowing to him. He loves having you on top, feasting in your pussy like a starving man while continously moaning due to your mouth enveloping his dick. He always cums so fast, the way your sweet scent entrances him while your mouth fucks him so good gets him every time.

Ricky - from behind

Even tho I feel like Ricky is a boob enthusiast, he loves taking you from behind. Having you watch yourself getting fucked by him through the mirror just gets him off so good. The way you struggle to keep watching the two of you so he can grab your chin and force your gaze onto the mirror. He has access to your tits, groping and pinching your nipples as he bit and licked your neck. The way you held onto him because your knees were like jelly always made him want more. And trust me, he takes what he wants.

Gyuvin - Reverse cowboy

Just like Ricky, I think gyuvin is a tit guy, but the sight of your pretty back as you bounced on him was just too pretty to not look at. He'd be busy with marking your whole back up, knowing you won't be able to conceal them with any makeup afterwards. His bigs hands would be everywhere, holding your waist, hips or tits as you rolled your hips against his. If he's feeling too needy, he'll hold you down and fuck up into you just to hear your cries of pleasure.

Gunwook - on a surface

I feel like Gunwook loves fucking you on a surface. Doesn't matter if from behind or missionary, it just has to be on a surface. He loves the way Goosebumps spread all over your skin as the cold kitchen tiles met your hot skin. The way your nipples hardened even more looked like heaven to him. You hold onto the counter as he fuck into you aggressively, loud moans and sounds of skin slapping together echoing through the room.

Taglist : @taeraelicious @woongiez

[bitin-and-barkin]

Dying Desires

Thinking about replacing Arthur as "The Bodyguard" of the gang.

Warnings: Very horny Arthur, Arthur Morgan x Reader, Dom Reader, Sub Arthur, Buff Reader, Religious + Dog symbolism, Probably out of character, mentions of shooting + being shot, mentions of needles, Gender Neutral Reader, Smut but nothing actually happens between you + Arthur, just daydreams, degradation + cigarettes being put out on people

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT

___________________________________________________________

Imagine; Dutch or Hosea are talking up someone new they met, who they think might be a nice "addition" to their little family.

People are hesitant at best. After the shit that went down in blackwater, they're already looking for new recruits?

But they claim you're reliable. During a job gone wrong, you helped them. And when they asked why? You just did it because you thought they needed it. No ill intent, no other reason in sight. The best part is, you obviously have no clue who they are.

Not only that, but you're smart and charming and agree with them on their views on the civilized world. You're a criminal too in the law's eyes, but in reality, you're just the modern-day Robin Hood they always tried to be.

And so, they bring by a couple of members to meet you. To get some other people's point of view before they come to an agreement.

It's simple. A quick get together in a saloon. If they smell something fishy, they can easily just leave and forget about you.

Arthur agrees to come along, and when he meets you,

Goddamn.

You aren't an addition. You're the whole damn equation.

Think Abby from TLOU2 or Koing from COD or any other jacked characters. Either way, female, male, or anything in-between, you're 6 foot something and over 180 pounds of pure fucking muscle.

Armed to the teeth with one hell of a quick draw and a right hook strong enough to even make god flinch.

For once in his life, even he feels intimidated.

And when Dutch comes up to greet you?

Good God, you're sweet.

And charming too.

Your bark isn't anything like your bite, or at the very least the bite you could give.

You're kind, selfless, generous, and well-read. Confident, too. It feels like they're talking to a saint half your size.

You even cover all their drinks despite just meeting them.

He can tell it's not naivety. Scars cover your body, and you got a certain look in your eyes that just shows that you know what the world can be like.

You're just choosing to be kind. For no reason at all.

Even when later that evening somebody attempts to start a fight with you, despite you being able to drag them across the floor, you keep it civil and keep your cool.

At least at first.

The second the guy tries to throw a punch, you're off. You grab his arm, curl up your fist, and deck him with one hit.

As soon as the fight started, it was over, as the man was already knocked out on the floor with a nosebleed to match.

Then, like clockwork, you sat down and asked Arthur to continue talking with that sweet-as-honey, smooth, and lazy look in your eyes.

As you chatted with Hosea about some crime novel, he couldn't stop himself from wanting to kiss the blood off your knuckles.

The day turned to night, and you guys got ready to part ways.

You happily waved goodbye, saying you had a good time.

But by the end of the night? It was already settled.

You were joining them alright.

And now, it has been a couple of months since you joined.

And it was hard to ignore the problem you've been causing for Arthur.

You weren't doing anything wrong, in fact, you were doing everything right.

Sweet with the gals, even getting in Grimshaw's favor.

Surprisingly tolerant with the guys, oddly kind with them, even down to the goddamn O'Driscoll.

But now they're asking you to do jobs.

Intimidation? They're calling for you.

Need a guard? They're yelling your name.

Want backup? Well, you're coming along, obviously.

You've been taking John's title as the "prize pony." Considering how far you've fallen in Dutch's favor.

And you're taking Arthur's title as the brute.

But that wasn't the problem.

He didn't care about Dutch's favor or random titles.

It was the fact that your title was correct.

You were a brute.

Standing next to him in jobs, you just towered over him.

You towered over him. Him. You towered over him like he was a little boy.

He was out hunting with you once and his aim was getting wonky with his bow.

You came over, trying to show him how he needed to grip it.

But when you put your hands over his, he realized how much bigger yours were.

Putting your hands palm to palm, making jokes about how small he was compared to you, he was starting to understand why women preferred rugged men.

Another time, he got shot in the calf during a job and couldn't walk.

He said it was fine and put out his hand for you to help him up so he could limp back to his horse.

But instead? You picked him up. Bridal style and everything, not even breaking a sweat. Carrying him to your horse and placing him on the back, saying he was in no state to be riding alone.

And as he pressed his chest up against your back as you rode, wrapping his arms around your stomach for balance, he felt a newfound heat in his.

Your stomach rising as you breathed in and out, telling him in a firm voice to stay put and that you'd get them back to camp. Whistling for his horse to follow you.

With the way you were talking, Arthur wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop himself from heeling and barking and rolling over if you asked.

Your last job was the last straw. You two were clearing out an O'Driscoll camp together.

One was left and the man was shooting you a sharp gaze, swearing he was gonna kill you as your gun stared at him just as kindly.

Watching the muscles in your forearms move as you pulled the trigger,

he couldn't stop himself from begging the lord for you to one day turn your aim to his lips,

so he could taste something that was yours and holy before he died.

He has never met anybody bigger than him.

And it was causing problems.

As now, he couldn't stop thinking about you.

Thrashing in his cot that night, he kept imagining you putting him on his knees like a sinner.

Making him suck on the barrel of your gun as his hands claw at your belt, with the weight of something else in his mouth being the only thing able to satiate him.

You grabbing a fistful of his hair, pulling his head away from your hips as cum seeped down his lips.

Tilting his head back, making sure he swallowed every ounce as he rutted his aching dick between your closed calves.

Manhandling him into position like livestock as you threw his legs up onto your shoulders, biting down on his neck and making him yours as you unzipped his pants and-

He stood up and started walking, unsure where he was going.

Just anywhere that would get him away from his own thoughts.

While wandering around camp, he looked over and saw you. Smoking at the campfire, stitching up a wound on your thigh.

Against his better judgment, he went down there and struck up some conversation.

Laughing and talking with you into the night.

Hoping that you sharing the thoughts of your mind would be able to erase his thoughts of your body.

But as you talked and talked and brought your cigarette up to your lips,

blowing the smoke out of your nose as your hands smoothly pulled the needle in and out.

He couldn't stop thinking about how much better your lips would look shotgunning him smoke,

how much better that cigarette would burn if you put it out on his neck in front of everybody,

And how much better your hands would feel wrapped around his waist as you pulled him in tight and called him your whore.

He pulled off his hat and dipped his face into his hands, his cheeks heating up as he stole a look from the cracks between his fingers.

And seeing you sprawled back, hearing your breathy gasps when the needle hit especially deep was driving him crazy.

Taking a bottle of whiskey in hand, he cracked it open and took a small sip before your voice piped up.

Asking him for some, saying it was to "take the edge off", and make the pain of stitching your wounds easier.

He walked over to you and you took the bottle, thanking him before drinking some down, and then handing it back to him.

And watching him later take a sip,

quietly eyeing your half-unbuttoned shirt as he rubbed his thighs together,

it seemed like it wasn't the alcohol he was trying to savor.

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Made Arthur horny like a teenager lmao + I have a thing for cigarettes and smoke, okay? Leave me alone about it.

Anyways, ya'll want more? Also I'll write a pt 2 to that sub Dutch story soon, dw.

[pookie-stay-wookie]

strong for too long (san x platonic!reader)

a/n: hii, this is my first fic, (id written it some time back but it somehow got deleted so i wrote it again)

warnings: death of a family member (just two lines), mentions of being tired, being in a depressive episode (in the past)

genre: hurt/comfort, angst (a little)

word count: 1.4k

being the oldest of her three siblings, and all of the cousins yn had naturally always felt a sense of responsibility growing up, no one had asked her to do it, it was just ingrained in her bones. one might see this as a good thing, and it was, she was always there for people always had a shoulder for anyone to lean on, but this faltered when it came to herself.

she never meant it to be like this, but in the midst of her helping her siblings she had forgotten to take care of herself and now here she was, not willing to lean on anyone and figuring out things on her own.

she and san had been friends since before he debuted and had always been close with the rest of the boys as well. 

usually yn was able to hold herself up through the darkest periods of her life, like when her grandmother died, she had played a huge role in all of her siblings' lives, she helped her siblings through the grief and pain of losing her. 

somehow she didn't seem to realize that her family was taking advantage of her kindness, her support. once she moved out, hardly any of them kept in contact with her, only coming to her if they needed help. she didn't know how or why it happened but they just grew apart

she knew that her family wanted nothing to do with her, her mother calling just to tell her how ungrateful she was to move away from them though she never said it to any of her other siblings when they did the same, she knew that her mother just didn't like her she knew all this, she just didn't want to accept it

It hurt to accept it, to know that the people who you were there for ignoring you completely, maybe she expected it from her mother, but not her siblings but she had brainwashed as well, she had convinced them to think that they had nothing to do with yn.

since it had been a long time since she had talked to any of her family, most days she had forgotten about the dispute going on with them. 

she held herself up when she was losing herself, trying to go day by day, fighting the demons inher head, she pulled herself up from the darkness. not because she wanted to, but because she knew that no one else would do it for her so she somehow willed herself to do so and she did it, she proved to herself that she didn’t need anyone and closed herself off completely, 

most days she was able to handle whatever was thrown at her, 

today was not most days

today just kept on kicking her down, not one thing was going good for her 

she woke up late, bumped her head on the bedside table as she woke up, when she got to work, the boss yelled at her for what seemed like hours because of her being late and in the hurry forgetting her laptop which had a presentation she needed to show today to some clients which in turn getting yelled at even more, her so called ‘friends’ from work seemed extra rude, her phone died in the middle of the day, and she just wanted to go home and have a quiet night to herself to recover from today's events 

but no, the universe decided to throw another curveball at her just as she was a few minutes away from her drive home, she got a call from her youngest sister

she picked it up, expecting her sister to want something from her, what she didn't expect her to be doing was sobbing her eyes out while trying to tell her something that she could understand nothing. 

yn pulled up on the side of the road, calming her sister down, panicking a little herself for wanting to know what was going on

that's when she heard it, oh how she wished she didn't, how she wished it was something else that she could her but the two words that came out of her sister's mouth were all that haunt d her all the way home 

'mom died' was all she heard and then just the wailing of her little sister, she didn't even realize when but she hung up the phone and started driving again 

even if her mom was terrible to her after she had moved out, she still loved her to death, she didn’t want to believe it. 

she couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it, the entire ride back to her house was a mixture of shock and numbness.

------

san was in yns living room, sitting on the couch, waiting for her to come home.

he had made some ramen for himself an hour ago and was sitting with his hand on his stomach, satisfied with the meal.

This is how it was like some days, san just showing up to her house, letting himself in with the spare keys he had, that's what happens when you've been friends for so long. he would always inform yn that he was coming over before he left from his own house, shooting her a text

it was around 9 when he heard the rustling of keys from the other side of the door signaling that yn was home. around the time he had expected her to come, what he didn't expect was her walking in like a zombie and go straight to her room, not even acknowledging the man in her living room, a distant look in her eyes.

knowing yn for so many years, he has never seen her like this, she's always been the rock between them, always there whenever san needed a pick me up, he had not once seen her this down, so he knew that there must be something going on. 

he slowly went towards her room and heard sniffles coming from across the closed door and his heart broke. he knew yn was strong, but she was closed off and she didn't like to show her emotions but it broke him to think that she was battling demons on her own. 

he knocked softly on the door in front of him "yn? honey can I come in?' he asked and heard the sniffles stop for a few seconds, but nothing more. he sighed thinking of what to do next 

so he quickly ran to the kitchen, making some ramen plus some add-ins, similar to what he had had earlier to give to yn since he was sure she hadn't had anything since she had come straight from work.

----

after I came home, i just went straight to my room, the words my sister told me haunting my brain. 

i heard a soft knock on my bedroom door, and realized it was san. in the midst of all this, i didn't even realize that he was here. he asked if I was fine but I didn't have the energy to say anything, so I didn't. some time later he knocked again and entered with some ramen, multiple side dishes and a glass of water. 

"i don't need to know what happened but I do need to make sure that you eat, so here you go." he said, placing the tray on my nightstand.

"but just so you know, if you need to talk, I'm here for you." he said with a smile as he sat on the bed.

before he could say anything else, i hugged him, my head finding the crook of his neck, he wrapped his arms around me, engulfing me under his huge frame.

Every fiber of my body yelled at me to not show my vulnerability but i didn’t have it in me anymore, to hide from people who wanted to help, especially san.

when I felt the warmth radiating off him, i couldn't help but burst into tears, the stress of it all coming all out at once, being neglected, work stress, being strong for all those years and finally, finding out about mom

"you've been strong for too long, it's okay to break, cause I'll be there to pick up the pieces." he said into my hair as we stayed there however long i needed to.

----

[solargeist]

you made a post explaining him becoming a watcher.. can we hear about him running away, the relapse, etc, pretty pretty please? :>

with a cherry on top? lol!

hmmm !! It might not be as long as the other post, but...

The body horror of changing into an angel isn't the sole reason Grian wanted to leave the Watchers, there was a brief moment in time where he wondered if it'd be worth it, but wings are the first to grow, the rest take much longer as they're not as needed as wings are. Despite how much it hurt, he's pretty proud of his wings, and he enjoys flying.

He sticks around long enough to learn how to fly, he gets rly good at it, flinging himself down the halls followed by a strong breeze, flying up high in the air outside and then dropping, he gets confident in this. (hes like rainbow dash to me-)

Along with that, he studies Watcher magic, he learns Portal magic, which is being able to open portals without the help of obsidian or rituals. This can also be used in fights, see: opening a portal where a person's head is, or a tiny strip shooting from his fingers like bullets, (like lasers, but those bits of flesh end up somewhere.) but the part he focuses most on is opening portals to other servers. He's always supervised, they always visit servers with him--but usually close it without going through anyway. The Watchers are more precise with it, knowing exactly where they want to go, Grian only opens random ones.

Other reasons he wants to leave is, being treated like a child, the lack of control, the lack of autonomy. They control his sleep, his food, where he goes, what he does, even what he says. Along with studying and training, hes exhausted, the resentment builds over time, any nice moment is buried by bad ones. He trains with Flora, another Watcher, whose idea of training is to just release mobs after him, creatures he's never seen before, he's unsure if they shoot fire, poison, or explode. Being pinned against the ground by a creature with its teeth bared around his sword is a sight he doesn't forget. If Flora feels like he rly can't do it, she'll kill the creature herself. Grian doesn't forget how the blood and gore feels dumped on his face and body, nor the disappointed look on her face.

This all, along with knowing his friends have left him--and they're not going to save him, has him plotting, desperate to think of how to get out of the void. He can't just run away while on a Watcher job on a random server, they will find him.

He doesn't pick a date--theres no sun anyway, he doesn't know what days or weeks are anymore. Its one particular breakdown that makes him act, he has no full plan, but what he does have is explosives he's been collecting from servers over time and stashing under his bed. He doesn't pack anything, all he does is set the explosives off and runs. I haven't thought abt this particular part fully, it happens so quickly for him, if he makes eye contact with his mum on his way out, he doesn't hesitate to take to the skies, before he can lose his nerve.

Shooting out into the void, he doesn't have a plan, but he keeps flying as fast as he can before regret can catch up with him. He opens portals in front of himself and dives through as they shatter behind him, he doesn't know where hes going. He pops out in random parts of the void, different islands he doesn't recognize, he comes across servers torn apart by war or genuinely not safe enough to land, so he keeps going.

Grian doesn't know how long he's been flying, his sense of time is completely fried, but hes tired, he's never flown for so long before. He hops through another portal into another world, dark and quiet, but lights shining from large buildings scattered about, there must be a lot of players here so he thinks he should leave quickly, but before he can do that, his foot snags a tree top and throws him off balance, his attempt to catch himself only propels himself forward, crashing through branches and sliding across the dirt below. He doesn't know if it was the trees or the ground, but his left wing snaps, he doesn't know if he screamed or not, but he lays in the dirt writhing for awhile, muscles aching and emotions finally grasping at him, pulling him apart.

But ! Still not time to think abt all that rn, bc Xisuma finds him. Grian's first thought isn't that this is a player, all he can see under that helmet is eyes, and his first thought is Watchers--they found him immediately--and he screams this time, flipping over and putting his hands in front of himself for any fighting, he can't hear whatever Xisuma's saying over his own shouting, angrily stating he won't go back. He calms down after a moment when he sees Xisuma has stepped back, hands up to show he's friendly. Grian doesn't care though, hes sliding backwards on his hands, his wings twitch and he winces in pain. I think it takes a little bit of persuading, but after Xisuma explains himself, that hes an admin and this is his server and people, Grian calms down a bit, the exhaustion helps with this too. He ends up accepting Xisuma's help in bracing his wing. Taking him back to his base to do so, Grian would've ran again if he could've. They both agree that Grian will leave as soon as he can, but he is safe here to wait until then.

Back at his base, Xisuma makes them both tea and sits in front of Grian, telling him he has to explain himself. Grian doesn't touch his tea, and after a long pause, he gives the shortest story with the least amount of details possible. Xisuma knows what Watchers are already, so he does feel some sympathy for him.. He would feel concern abt the Watchers finding his server, but hes confident enough in his code. Grian stays that night, he hides under a bed and cries, still never drinking the tea, but he falls asleep.

UH fast forward fast forward Grian is invited to the server, and he does join as s6 starts, his wing still in bandages but doing much better now. He still hasn't met any players or heard much abt them. He's shocked to see Pearl, but also very happy--his sister !! his sister ?!?!?! She looks happy too, so he rushes forward and they hug, shes gotten so tall. He promises to tell her what happened later, but he still leaves out a lot of details.

This is getting long again fast forward fast forward again

The relapsing happens throughout s6, Grian overworks himself, insecure and nervous in his building ability--it almost feels like Evo again, wishing he could do better, scared to disappoint Xisuma and be kicked out for not being worth the trouble.

Grian's gotten rly close with his neighbour Mumbo, he'll take a break for Mumbo, to hang out with him. Grian has a problem with hoarding food, he never had control over it with the Watchers, so now on his own, he can't bare to throw anything out, he keeps things despite the smell or mold. Good bits of food sat with the rotten, but he doesn't eat either anyway, he just wants to have it, safe, where he can get to it easily, and he doesn't have to ask anyone. It takes Mumbo awhile to talk him into cleaning that out, its dangerous ! Even during the conversation Grian is slowly closing the cabinet Mumbo is trying to look into it, holding eye contact and desperately trying to convince Mumbo its fine (it is NOT.) Mumbos taken to sharing his lunch with him most days, or bringing snacks he claims he made too much of--or he bought too much by mistake, just to make sure he eats something.

Grian has a hard time living alone, he loses track of time and doesn't eat, or doesn't get the right amount of sleep. He feels lonely in his large build. The Watchers' controlled his entire life, so he doesn't know what to do with it now that its his again. When he thinks about it too long, it starts to ache, that little part of him never went away, the guilt, regret, and remorse, builds every time he doubts himself, he misses his bed !--Back in the void, that bed, this still doesn't feel like home, in some sick twisted way he feels homesick. Mumbo finds him at his base one day with his head buried in his knees crying, but when Grian notices he immediately pretends he was not crying, despite the red puffy eyes and tear stained face, he smiles and asks: whats up !! Hello whats up ! Mumbo laughs in horrified confusion, asking what happened. Grian says Nothing. Mumbo sits next to him and says c'mon mate what is this. Grian sighs and sinks back into himself, face dropping and exposing how tired he is. Grian slowly explains himself--at first leaving out many details--he just says he ran away from home before joining Hermitcraft, but he still misses his family sometimes--even if they hurt him. Mumbo thinks this is much deeper than he thought it'd be, but he encourages Grian to continue, and he does. Grian ends up telling Mumbo everything, absolutely everything, every humiliating detail and embarrassment, every memory good or bad. At some point they start telling family stories to each other, and Grian isn't crying anymore, they're both laughing, sat right next to each other. Its a huge relief. Grian poured his soul out to Mumbo and he held it so carefully.

late s6 and s7 go pretty smoothly--Watcher wise, Grian adjusts to life on his own and within a new community. Grian learns to fly again, he makes his wings his own and dyes them parrot colours.

I can't fit the rest, but he gets possessed by an alternate version of himself in s8, i think the Watchers find him as well bc of this timeline chaos. And the moons falling. Its a lot for him to emotionally deal with !

[bbyobbyo]

[12:44]

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, body insecurity, dk must be protected

wc: 665

note: idk this is what i get for watching dk make one too many tummy jokes on gose (seungkwan ur on thin ice) im sorry everyone good night

You come home to see your boyfriend in front of the mirror.

“Hey babe,” you shout from the door. “How long have you been home? Did you eat yet?”

“I just got back from the gym with Jihoon and Mingyu and they were giving me all these tips but to be honest, I could barely keep up.”

“I'm pretty sure those two are aliens and do nothing but work out and dance” you laugh from the other room as you put down your stuff. “Maybe you should try working out with Vernon next time.”

What you thought was a lighthearted joke turns into something much more serious when you find your words met with a low hum instead of the beautiful chuckle you expected.

You knew this was a point of insecurity for him, you figured as much when he insists on keeping a shirt on at the pool or on the beach. Or when he shys away from you when changing, despite you having seen him naked many many times already.

But what you didn't realize how deep it cut on the days he couldn't make a joke about it and turn himself into the fool as he often does to lift everyone's mood.

You immediately drop everything you're doing and join your boyfriend in front of the mirror, hands wrapping around his middle as you nuzzle into his side.

“Tell me what's wrong, honey.”

There's a shallow sigh before he's able to speak, and you swallow in anticipation as you stare at him through the reflection of both of you.

He briefly flashes you one of his bright smiles in the mirror, the ones he knows you love so much, but this one doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“I know I don't have rock hard abs like Jihoon or Mingyu, but I'm working on it.”

You can hear your heart breaking in your chest as your boyfriend spills out his confession.

He's so strong, you think. Stronger than anyone you know. The type of man who wears his weaknesses proudly and has no problem taking the fall for others, yet stays optimistic in every breath, uplifting those who need it regardless if his own tank is filled.

“What are you even talking about, baby? I love your tummy.”

“I- I don't know… I just thought— because,”

His gaze lowers to his fingers intertwined and fidgeting as he struggles to find the words. He lightly gnaws on his bottom lip as he shakily continues, “You really liked when I was building my arm muscles and you were complimenting me on getting stronger so I just assumed that you wanted me to—”

He's hushed by your gentle palm cupping his jaw, lifting his eyes to meet yours.

“Oh darling,” your eyes swimming with emotion, “no, I never meant it like that,” you breathe out in an almost whisper.

“Yes, I love that you were getting stronger but that doesn't mean I don't think you're absolutely perfect the way you are.”

You see his pupils widen as he stares back at you, expression unreadable as he seemingly tries to process whether or not to believe your words.

“I can't expect you to stay the same, that would be selfish of me. People change all the time, and hopefully it's for the better. But no matter what you look like I will always, always, love you for you Seokmin. Don't ever assume for a second that my love for you depends on whether or not you look like Mingyu, alright?”

You catch a tear that slips down his cheek with the pad of your thumb. Although his sparkling brown eyes threaten to open the floodgates, his widening smile that replaces his earlier tight-lipped expression assures you that his mind is much clearer than before.

“And for what it's worth, I love kissing your tummy and I will likely be devastated even if it's replaced by a six pack.”

“Alright, I'll tell Jihoon no more ab exercises then.”

[eatmangoesnekkid]

One thing I struggled with when I was in my 20s during my origin story of blooming into Goddess spirituality as taught by one of my mentors was how semen was healthy for the female body. This is a common way of thinking with those who practice tantra, kama sutra, divine union, ancient temple arts, etc., and what is pushed in "Goddess- centered" and of course heteronormative patriarchal women spaces. However, the most disciplined, healthy, regenerative, mentally-clear men will always practice semen retention, which means that they would NOT release their semen into a woman's body during sex, and would circulate it internally throughout their own body to increase their organs' vitality instead, unless they were desiring to procreate a child. The thinking that semen was generally healthy for the female body as also taught in one of my favorite books "The Sexual Secrets of the White Tigress (a book I obviously don't completely agree with but helped to expand my consciousness) never fully added up with me and no one could ever answer my inquiry that "if semen is so healthy for the female body, why do the healthiest, strongest men have to practice semen retention....why would the divine be so cognitive-dissonant..lol?" There is so much division and anti-male propaganda out there, and that's not what I'm up to nor is it a conversation or line of thinking I would ever participate in. I'm more interested in women and other female-bodied people coming into our full alive power and magic—softening and strengthening our bodies and life force energy, expanding our minds, integrating our shadows, and birthing real authentically beautiful lives that shift the collective energy forward into more love. I wrote this to encourage those with female bodies to question everything, including me, because the "truth," whatever that means, will also influence your entire physiology overtime. What I know is that most of what we have been taught are lies and made up by men and patriarchal-centered women, for the benefit of men. Many of you have asked me private questions around working out and getting back active and strong in your body, but also express how tired and inflame your body is, could this be why? Because what I also know is that there are plenty of men who dump their stress, disappointments in life, rage, anger, and the like into women's bodies when they ejaculate therefore women have to be more intuitive and mindful in choosing lovers. But there is so much unlearning that every human must be willing to do in order to live healthier more emotionally-intelligent lifestyles thereby be capable of not continuing to make a series of bad decisions in life. Because there are plenty of healthy, dutiful, deeply loving men out there to choose from if/when you are interested. May the veil of conditioning be lifted from the inner eye so that you begin to know who you truly are. Elevate your frequency so that you CAN be more grounded, centered and clear in your choosing. And what's also true is there is valid nuance as well that I won't be able to go into here on this blog at this time. -India Ame'ye, Author

[stickyspeckledlight]

Pardon My French [Yan!Boothill x GN!Reader]

You fight back in the one way you can, or, at least, you try.

Ao3

Word Count: 2.2k

Tags: Reader is GN but Boothill calls them 'princess' once (reader is hurt by this disrespect), swearing. It's boothill. Oh and also there's some dead guys here and there but they're kinda glossed over (because reader sure does not wanna think about that too much)

Notes: Sup muddlefudgers it's me with a quickie. Didn't proofread this since I wrote this in mostly one go so sorry for any errors you may find lol. Also Boothill kinda sucks, but like. It's yandere so they always kinda suck. That's kinda stupid to put as a note isn't it now that I think about it huh. HOLY SHIT 2k words how tf did that happen---

(Written before 2.3)

Boothill is an opponent you have no hope of overpowering, much less escaping. How exactly do you outrun a Galaxy Ranger with an exorbitant bounty on his head? Much less one who manages to keep you attached to his hip all the while evading bounty hunters? The lifestyle alone is exhausting, and whenever there's a moment of downtime, you just go and hit the hay.

Suffice to say, there isn't much you can do to fight back. Not to mention that he needs far less sleep than you do thanks to his cybernetic enhancements (but seeing as how all but his head is gone, it'd be better to call it a butchering). Also thanks to his cybernetic enhancements, you now know very well what it's like to have all the bones in your hand nearly shatter.

If you want to fight back against him, you muse as your thoughts drift to a restful sleep, you'll have to utilize that silver tongue of yours (maybe more like rusty iron tongue, but improv shouldn't be too difficult).

You've taken great pains in observing your captor ("You call a guy takin' you to the stars over yonder a 'captor'? Tch, drop that talk before I think you have a hankering to be treated like one of my prisoners."). Your observations? Vigilant. Prefers his drinks to have a strong kick. A hand always lingering to draw his gun when need be. However, these are not going to aid you in your mission. Oh, no. They will not.

It is when you are wrapped in a blanket huddling next to a simmering fire that you are able to put your plans into motion.

"...those clock-sucking muddlefudgers!" Boothill seethes, venting all his frustrations to you as if hearing his woe didn't make you feel a bit giddy. He grumbles, throwing a piece of shredded cloth to the fire, unable to get rid of the fresh blood that stained it, "Ambushin' us in the middle of the night like that! Smart move I admit, but doesn't change that they got to see how pissed I can really get. Though I was done with them after that lil' scuffle, but seems not..."

You hum noncomittedly. "Kinda was a bummer to get my beauty sleep interrupted. One of those motherfuckers nearly shot me." And it's true. You can barely keep up with Boothill as is, after all. Sure, he'll drag you with him anyway, but when that does happen, he starts making demands of you. Better to use your own feet than the abilities of a needy cyborg, right?

Boothill hums in a way you can mistake as apologetic. "Yeah, ain't too peachy of them to do that darlin', those sons of a nice lady." He briefly frowns, like he's been met with a great offense, before throwing a pebble at some poor sap's corpse. This seems to have resolved his previous grievance. An amused huff escapes his lips. "Too dead to do anythin' more though." The rock embeds itself in the boy's chest with a meaty squelch. Although such a sight and sound is no longer foreign to you, you can't help but shiver and curl your toes, your mind flooded with the very real possibility that that could be you. Frankly, it's a miracle you've survived this long. You've pointed this conundrum to Boothill before: if he's supposedly doing this to keep you 'safe,' then why is he introducing you to dangers worse than a mugging in an alleyway, or a petty thief holding a store clerk at gunpoint?

His answer was a single bullet. The cut on your cheek is still healing.

("Darlin'," he coldly mutters to you, in the same tone he uses to an enemy before lodging a bullet in their skull, "maybe you oughtta think 'bout how lucky you are that I find myself real fond for you. Because if I didn't," the warm muzzle of his gun presses against your forehead, and his finger teases going in and out of the trigger guard, "let's just say nobody could guess that you've ever had such a pretty lil' face. 'Fraid the galaxy ain't to kind to dreamers like you.")

After that, all you really have to say is that your Ranger friend is the most incorrigible, selfish man you've had the displeasure of knowing.

Your lips twitch. "Mmm, you really did show these sons of a bitch what for, Boothill."

"Not enough," he admits, crossing his arms, "if these dumbashes thought they had a chance in the first place." Yet, a smirk crosses his face, "But...maybe this'll show 'em not to poke their head where it don't belong."

"But, if they're dumbasses in the first place, do you really think they'd be smart enough to realize that?"

He shrugs. You deflate a little; your plan isn't working in the slightest. "Then they get what they asked for," he leans his head back against the tree behind him, staring into the stars with an exasperated awe. The stars used to inspire you, to the point you bought an expensive telescope to observe them better. But that was when you weren't dragged into them against your will. If you do somehow escape your captor's clutches, you know that any aspirations for interastral travel you once bore will have fizzled into dust, like a dying star. Why explore the cosmos when all you've seen of it is death, thugs, and crime? Why willingly go into that, when you may either end up a corpse or worse: stumble into someone like Boothill.

Out of everything he's done to you, that is his greatest crime.

That strong accent with an off-kilter robotic filter snaps you out of your thoughts. You then realize that Boothill has been talking while you were spaced out. "Why the long face, darlin'? Yer lookin' a lil' outta sorts." There's something a little offputting about how his gruff voice...softens, when he says that. You aren't sure if it's something to be relieved about, or if you should start laughing.

"Ah, haha," you chuckle soullessly, "Nothing, just...thinking. Guess I'm pretty tired, huh? Those, um," you rack your mind for which profanity he used, "er, cocksuckers, really interrupted my sleep, y'know?"

"Can't say I didn't notice." He grumbles, almost childishly, "Made it pretty clear you got no sympathy for those muddlefudgers." He scrunches his nose with a frown.

Ah. You perk up. Maybe your plan, as subtle and soft as it is, is working. "Of course. No reason to have any love in my heart for motherfuckers who barge in on my beauty sleep." And life, but you don't want to set off an argument. Yet.

"..." He just nods. Begrudgingly. A small smile plays on your face.

"Seriously, how stupid do you have to be to degrade to the kinda dumbass that challenges the Boothill?" You tap your chin, to give the appearance that you're giving this any semblance of thought, "Either they like their boss's cock that much, or they really just want a good story to tell to their next fuck."

"Never knew you were this vulgar," He frowns. His countenance is exactly that of a child being forced to tip the swear jar, "Why doncha get along with tha' beauty sleep you were yapping on about?"

You cannot help but beam, "But they're just a bunch of motherfucking sons of bitches, Boothill! Much as these dumbasses had their heads stuck up their asses, they turned my sweet dreams into a pile of shitballs. They deserve to be remembered as the sorry little fuckers they are, right? I'm just giving them the appropriate eulogies!" Your curses are poorly strewn together, but it doesn't matter, when Boothill looks like he's sucked a lemon with how puckered his expression becomes.

"Sounds to me you ain't so tired after all," he huffs, "seein' how you're yappin' so spiritedly."

"Learned from the best, Ranger." You smirk, "If anyone should take the blame for corrupting me, it's gotta be y-o-u."

"Corrupt? Hardly," he spits out a laugh, "I think the words yer lookin' for are 'wisening up.'"

Well, he's not exactly wrong. Suddenly, your tongue tastes like a bitter thing, and it makes you want to scrape your tastebuds off. "Good point. You did help me realize that I fall for do-gooder facades too easily."

The instant you gave Boothill a little taste of the bitterness coating your tongue, he groans with a scowl. "This again? I don't got the energy for 'another one of yer tantrums."

You scoff. "Should've thought of that before kidnapping me, but I guess not all of us have basic human decency."

"Maybe," he hostilely drawls, "I ought to shut that little mouth of yours."

Gags aren't exactly pleasant, but you know what? Getting your mouth stuffed with some dirty rag is the least of what he's done to you. "I didn't take you for some baby who can't handle an ounce of criticism. I thought you liked the truth, Boothill. Or are you just that delusional?"

"Ain't delusional, princess," you recoil. 'Princess'? Really? The pain you feel at being called such a thing quickly fuels more anger. And you didn't think he could disrespect you more. You feel incensed in a way that's a complete 180 from how you anticipated the remainder of the night going---you were supposed to play with Boothill, not fight him in an unwinnable battle (because he's a cheater), but here you are. Emotions are quite a volatile thing, you suppose. "You said you was a dreamer; gushin' 'bout the stars, all about how you'd abandon all yer folks for even a chance to touch 'em. And lookat you, dreamer you, livin' your dream. And why are you livin' yer dream? Me," he lowly growls, "so don't get fussy with me."

"I," you swallow. Your teeth clench, your face contorting into a pained snarl, "didn't ask for any of this shit. Tell me, Ranger," you blankly register that you've stood up at some point, "did I ever say I wanted to live as a fugitive? See things like--like---" Your breath is uneven, as every horrible thing you've seen flashes in your mind like a film, "---like this?!" You gesture over to the corpses littered about the forest, all with a permanent look of shocked horror etched on their faces, with a smoking hole between their eyes. "Boothill," you gasp, subconsciously taking a step toward him--- subconsciously thinking about how much you want him to join the forest ground, "I wanted a fucking choice, on how I wanted to live my life---and you've put that square in the grave!" For some reason, you laugh, "I should've ignored you. Better yet, wait for you to die, and then I wouldn't have to be here," another humorous idea sparks in your mind (and you are too engrossed in your humor, in this near bout of insanity, to notice how Boothill's expression goes from a beast's to a calm, calculating predator's; blank and cold), "and hey, could've gotten a decent amount of cash to do with as I pleased." The hilarity is nearly too much for you to bear---you're clutching to your stomach, and you can hardly breathe now.

"(Name)," you hear seethed very, very near you, dripping with malice and a need to harm, "I think," cold, apathetic metal comes to your arm in a crushing grip, "you don't really mean that."

You laugh. Your arm feels a little funny, a little numb and sagging, but you just laugh. You laugh and laugh. You think about how you can curse and he's stuck with juvenile attempts at doing so; you think about how guts strewn about the forest floor really just looks like a bunch of spaghetti; you think about how funny it is that you've technically gotten your wish, though granted by a cunning genie.

And you think about how you'll never get to see your dreams accomplished. All of the anger, jovial despair, fear, and betrayal that you've felt gathers into the fuel for an ugly spectacle of your tears. Because although anger has been your boon companion, there's only so much you can take before you need to let it all out. Feeling returns to your arm; the metal has relinquished its hold. Your knees shake and collapse, but metal keeps you from taking the brunt of such damage. As your chest heaves, you finally, finally find it within yourself to ask the one question that has been taunting you for so long.

"I, I, I," you cough, "I loved you, Boothill. Why'd you have to ruin everything like this?"

He pursues his lip in a thin line, but as you cry, it relaxes---softens, even, and his revolver is put back in its holster.

"Darlin'," he quietly says, "leavin' you behind like that would've meant I'd never see you again. And," cold metal tips your head, to meet the dark eyes of a horribly broken man, "if I was sent back in time to make that same choice...I'd do it again." His other arm wraps around you, stroking your back, but cold, inhuman metal is no comfort to you.

Your first kiss tastes like your dreams: of salt, showered over budding blooms.

[thiccpersonality]

What Is A Father?

What is a father? 

This is a question Bruce has been pondering on for awhile now, especially now that Father's Day is coming so quickly. A part of him still feels the stinging pain of loss from all those years ago, yet also Bruce finds his heart warming at the memories he shared with Thomas Wayne...somewhere in his mind echoes the deep rumbling laugh of the doctor. It has been so long since Bruce has felt those strong arms wrap around him, his body trying desperately to recall the smell of medicine and antiseptics that always seemed to cover his father.

Bruce sighs loudly while turning to lie on his back, his nostrils flaring at the sudden scent of Thomas Wayne suddenly in the room. Icy blue eyes shut tightly at the tears that start to form in his eyes, it's been so long...yet that smell is undeniably his late father. There is the smell of the medicine Bruce hated so much mixed with antiseptics and yet something...warm, like a campfire, something very earthy and natural that was so undeniably Thomas.

Hm? With these thoughts, Bruce thinks he'll never get to sleep now.

The man grunts softly as he sits up against the headboard, his back cushioned by his pillows as he looks to the ceiling in thought. Because what is a father to Bruce? A father to him is many things, one of them being something to lose and mourn, but Bruce knows that is his negative side talking...everything in life is something you can lose, so he knows that people aren't too different.

As Bruce is thinking about the question, his eyes fall closed, his body still upright on the bed as an unconscious smile tugs at his lips from the memories playing in his mind...

-A Father Is: Structure-

Bruce was only three, small and innocent to the ways of the world and all the mess it can cause. Oblivious to the lies and gossip of the media and what they say about his family, more specifically, his father and mother. Though he is oblivious and naive, Bruce isn't a stupid kid, he knows that something is bothering his mother by the way her hands reach up to play with the pearls that adorn her neck, can see it in the slight furrow of her brows and the way she keeps tapping her armrest with her manicured nails.

And when his mama is distressed, Bruce is distressed as well. 

The toddler pouts at the hushed conversation that's going on across the room, his toys long forgotten as he watches his mother carefully as she whispers something aggressively to Thomas. Bruce's head tilts in confusion at the calm smile placed on his papa's face, is nothing actually wrong? Why is his mom so upset and his dad so relaxed?

Bruce scoots forward, being able to do so easily as his parents are distracted with their conversation, leaning in closer when he gets close enough to hear what they are whispering to each other about.

"How can you be so calm about this, Thomas!? They have been doing anything to try and ruin your name and reputation, and quite frankly, I don't know why you would invite the same people who talk about you behind your back into your home. I'm just-" Bruce's frown deepens at the anxiousness and exhaustion in Martha's tone-"I'm just so tired of people talking about you and I. I'm afraid that they will one day pull our baby into all this mess and Lord knows I don't want that for him, Tommy."

Bruce doesn't know exactly what his parents mean...but he feels himself getting upset at whoever is hurting his mom and dad. His daddy is good and kind and helps people, does no one else see it?

A gentle hum from Thomas catches Bruce's attention, the small tot freezing in place when he looks up and sees that warm gaze directed towards him. Thomas Wayne smiles gently at his son and holds his hands out for the child, "It seems we have a little guest, Martha. Looks like it's bothering Bruce as well." Martha gnaws at her lip in worry at seeing her little Bruce toddle his way to Thomas, the boy's face looking uncharacteristically worried for him and someone his age. "I'm sorry, my little Brucie. Mommy didn't mean to worry you-no? What do you mean no?"

Thomas and Martha watch as Bruce shakes his little head, "Not mommy. Bad people lie about daddy and mommy...that's not true. You're good, why can't they see it?"

Martha melts in her chair, her fingers stopping their constant tapping as she turns questioning gaze towards Thomas. "I don't know, Bruce. Why can't they see it?" Thomas sighs fondly at the slight aggravation that's still in his wife's tone, his arm tightening around Bruce while he leans over to hold Martha's hand in his own. "Sometimes people are complicated, this is something we know. I cannot say exactly why they can or cannot see what we see, Martha and Bruce, but one thing I do know is that I am happy where I am with you two and no lie or rumor can change that." Martha softens further at the gentle kiss placed on her hand and the kiss her husband plants on Bruce's cheek.

"I also know that I am in charge of how I choose to act. It can be hard to face lies...but I know the truth and that's all that matters to me, now, why don't we go smile and laugh and enjoy our night?"

Bruce relaxes in his father's hold, amazed at how calm Thomas can be despite everything feeling so scary, holding firmly onto the relaxed smile his dad is giving and doing his best to imitate one of his own.

XXX

Bruce sighs softly at the memory, his lips stretching into an imitation of his father's smile as he remembers how assuredly his father was in a moment where himself and his own mother weren't sure. Bruce always remembers Thomas being firm and unwavering in moments where anyone would shake and tremble, there was always a kindness and an understanding to him that Bruce always wondered about...

-A Father Is: Understanding-

Thomas and a four-year-old Bruce walk down the street hand-in-hand, the doctor has a rare day off and miraculously has not been called in for work at all, and because of such a rare thing, the older Wayne decided it would be a great time to go out into the city to bond with his son. Bruce does his best to keep up with his father as they turn the corner to head to their car, the child grunting as he bumps into Thomas's leg from the man abruptly stopping.

"Daddy?" Bruce questions while looking up to the older man for an answer, huffing and stomping his foot lightly at the lack of an answer from him, what could he be looking at?

Bruce looks to where Thomas is looking, the boy's eyes widening at the child standing in front of their car attempting to pull the tires off. Bruce hides behind his dad, his small hands gripping the man's pants leg tightly in fear as to what will happen next, his shoulders relaxing somewhat at the hand that rests gently on his head comfortingly. "Don't be afraid, son. What do you say we go talk to the young man?" 

Thomas chuckles at the look Bruce is giving him, the man choosing to smile kindly and walk forward quietly, trying not to laugh louder at his son attempting to pull him back from the other boy.

When they get close enough, Thomas places his hand on the kid's shoulder and clears his throat, effectively startling the young teen out of his concentration. "May I ask why you are trying to take my tires, young man?" Bruce hides behind Thomas's leg more when the older boy looks down at him for a moment and scoffs suddenly, "I don't hafta explain shit to you...old man. You wouldn't understand." Bruce feels his brows furrow in irritation at the boy's behavior, feeling indignant on his father's behalf at the tone the boy is taking with him.

Before Bruce can say anything in defense of his dad, Thomas just gently squeezes the teens shoulder again with a hum.

"Maybe I wouldn't or maybe I would. You never know unless you tell me everything over a meal, is that alright with you?" Bruce looks up at his dad in confusion, this person was just trying to steal their stuff and he wants to feed the boy? But he is always told that stealing is bad and you face the consequences of stealing, Bruce knows it to be true as when he attempts to steal snacks, he's scolded, put in timeout or popped on his backside depending on it.

Bruce isn't the only one baffled by the question, the teen looks around before staring back up at Thomas cautiously. "This your idea of a joke? I don't need pity or your sympathy, okay? I'm doing just fine on my own."

Thomas listens to the boy complain before nodding softly, "It isn't a joke. Nothing about this situation is funny...and I don't doubt that you are incapable of taking care of yourself, you seem to have some kind of experience on how to. But, you must be stealing my tires for a reason, yes? There is absolutely no shame in needing or asking for help, no one should be alone and struggling, especially a fine young man such as yourself. Now, how about that offer if you'd indulge this old man?" Bruce watches as something in the teen softens, no doubt there is some sort of caution still put up, but the boy looks more confused and in shock that Thomas is being genuine in his request.

"Uh...sure?"

------

"That's pretty much it. Guess your gonna call the police on me now?" The teenager, now known as Caleb, leans back in his seat while pushing his empty plate away. He looks content with the food, but something in his eyes is tired and lost as he asks the question, Bruce hears him asking: "you gonna toss me away too?" And that makes him sad for Caleb and how he thinks he's unwanted or unlikeable.

Thomas shakes his head, "No. I'm not calling the police on you, obviously you know stealing is wrong as you were trying to do it in secret-" he raises his hand to stop the boy from saying anything-"though I understand now where you were coming from. But, I would prefer if you could actually work and make money for yourself and your little sister instead of resorting to stealing." Caleb crosses his arms defensively and looks out the diner window, "Yeah...well, no one wants to hire a street rat like me. Your kind don't like people like us, guess we are too savage and dirty for the likes of them." Thomas looks troubled at hearing that, his tone kind yet firm as he speaks, "Don't say that. I like you very much, and it isn't any fault of yours that you are in the position you're in, so leave that train of thought behind you."

Caleb turns to look at Thomas and physically squirms at the look the older man is giving him...it has been so long since anyone looked at him with love and concern, usually people are too busy looking at him with contempt, as if he's nothing but trash. "You are old enough to work decent hours for your age. Caleb, would you do me the honor of working at one of my wife's orphanages or homeless shelters? I don't want you to be on these streets anymore...and you can work hard for me in payback for attempting to steal my tires."

Caleb feels as if he's in a dream, "I tried to steal from you...and you want me to work for your wife? Y-You are offering me a job, why? What's in it for you, huh?"

Thomas writes down the address and his number on a napkin and slides it over to the teen, "For one: you would be off of the streets and two: you would have a stable enough life, job and living conditions for yourself and your sister. That is exactly what is in it for me...I know this must seem like a lot, and I know you don't trust me right now, but just think about it. There is a door open to you anytime you want to come to one of those addresses and that number will always pick up when you call." Thomas slides out of the booth with Bruce in tow, smiling at Caleb one last time before leaving the restaurant.

Bruce looks back one more time when they are outside to look at the teen, his lips lifting up into a happy smile at how the boy is aggressively wiping his eyes and hugging onto the napkin like it's a lifeline.

A soft ruffle to his hair causes Bruce to look up at his dad, "You never have to be afraid, Bruce. Sometimes...people behave in scary ways or in a way that makes us mad, but you never know what got them to that point." The four-year-old nods and then tilts his head curiously. "He stole though, papa. You always say that is a no-no." Thomas chuckles and picks Bruce up, kissing the boy's nose: "Yes, and stealing is a bad thing. But, I would rather give Caleb an actual chance to get better when he's never gotten one before. I know he'll do well at his job and then he'll learn better things and grow so much. That is how he can pay me back for the attempt at stealing." 

Bruce gasps like he's gotten an epiphany as he's lowered and buckled into his car seat, "Is he serving out his time like in jail?"

Thomas stares for a second before laughing loudly and nodding his head. "Sure thing, kiddo. Sure thing."

XXX

Bruce feels the phantom touches of a strong hand ruffling his hair and lips gently pressing to his nose. He always was amazed at how his father seemed to be able to talk to anyone, all he had to do was speak kindly and offer one of his soft smiles and it seemed no one knew what to do with it. 

Bruce recalls moments when he was a-in his own eyes-a little monster, brat, or just annoying. Yet Thomas always remained patient with him despite any inconveniences...

-A Father Is: Patient and Fun-

Thomas Wayne sighs tiredly as his five-year-old son keeps squirming in his lap, the boy won't settle down no matter what he tries to do. If he lowers the boy to the floor, he screams, and if he holds onto the child, squirming is all that happens. "Bruce, why don't you sit on the floor or go play while I work? Daddy has some things he needs to review and sign." There is a bit of hope in Thomas's voice as he suggests this, maybe Bruce will magically feel like going to find Alfred or pester his mother instead.

Alas, that is not meant to be the case as Bruce whines loudly at the suggestion of being "separated" from his dear father.

"No, play with me." 

Thomas closes his eyes and inhales deeply before exhaling, he loves his son, he really does, but if only the boy could leave him be for just a couple minutes to let him get his work done. "I can't play a game right now, bud. I have work to do that is time-sensitive, and if I don't do it, it will be very bad." Thomas hopes Bruce will quit by mentioning things being bad for him if he doesn't finish work, his son is usually so kind and understanding about those things whenever him or Martha put things that way, but when Bruce decides to be a gremlin about things...he sticks to the roll well and doesn't care.

Bruce pouts and squirms more, " No. It's not more m'portant than me. Play with me?" 

Thomas sighs loudly once again before perking up, "Oh! How about we play hide and seek? I bet you that you can't find me if you're the seeker."

Thomas smiles triumphantly as Bruce's competitive side comes out (he gets it from Martha) and he narrows his eyes challengingly before climbing down his father's lap and turning away while counting. While Bruce is distracted with counting, Thomas quickly snatches his pen and papers into his arms and runs out of the office and into Alfred's bedroom, hiding in the man's closet and slumping in relief at the silence while reading and reviewing what the papers say.

Back with Bruce, the child shouts loudly how "ready or not, here he comes." The boy checking around the office first before exiting the room and standing in the hallway, he's a bright kid so he avoids any places that he can fit into, he can be oblivious and naive, but he knows some of the secret places are too big for Thomas. Let's see...if Bruce didn't want to be found, where would he go? There are a lot of places in his home where he could potentially not be found, but there is only one place no one ever goes: Alfred's room.

Bruce giggles and makes his way to his best friend's room, sniffing the air and feeling happy as the scent of his father gets stronger the closer he gets to Alfred's room.

Thomas holds his breath as the door creaks open, what is with children being able to find their parents no matter what? The older man listens quietly and grows confused as he hears Bruce sniffling, did he make his child mad? Does he think he doesn't care about him anymore because he is trying to work? Before Thomas can reveal his hiding spot, he is interrupted by Bruce knocking on the closet rapidly with a few giggles. "I know you're in here, daddy! I can smell you!"

Thomas opens the closet door to stare at Bruce, smiling softly at the proud look the other wears on his face.

"It looks like you've got me. How about we make a deal? You let me finish my work and then I play with you to your hearts content." Bruce frowns and crosses his arms with a pout, trying to remain stubborn as Thomas pulls him into his arms, "Why don't you wanna play with me? I just want to be with you, papa." Thomas chuckles at the slight dramatics in Bruce's tone, but his heart warms at the soft admittance of his son, hugging the boy close and pressing a kiss to the child's crown. "I want to be with you too, in fact, I love to be with you. But, I also have big people work to do to help provide for this family and that makes me not able to play all the time, but it doesn't mean I don't ever want to."

Thomas tugs Bruce closer to himself until the boy is curled up on his lap, "Do you know how you get tired after playing with Alfred, your mother and I?" Bruce slowly nods. "Well, that happens with my work and when playing with you too, it's very fun, but there is a point and time where you stop to just rest. However, my most important job is making sure you're taken care of, just how your most important things are making your mother and I beautiful paintings to make us happy."

"And Alfred."

Thomas chuckles and nods, "Yes. And Alfred, he adores every picture you make for him, as do we. And do you like being disturbed when making us your art?"

Bruce slumps at the explanation, "I'm sorry. I just wanna play." Thomas quickly peppers the pudgy face in kisses at hearing the sad tone in the boy's voice, "You don't need to apologize to me. I understand what you are going through, I was a kid once too, Bruce. And I'm pretty sure I was worse when I was your age...I went out of my way to sabotage my parents work so they'd pay attention to me."

Bruce makes a weird face at those words and shakes his head, "You are daddy. You can't be my age."

Thomas laughs loudly and stands up with Bruce in his arms, blowing raspberries into the child's neck as he tosses him on Alfred's bed.

XXX

If he focuses hard enough, Bruce can feel the bed shake as if he is bouncing up and down on it, can feel the tingle of raspberries being blown into his neck and can hear Alfred's exasperated sigh at seeing his Masters messing up his bed. He really wants to stop imagining things of the past...but whenever his mind slips and allows those memories to push to the front of his mind, Bruce finds himself desperately grabbing onto those once happy memories like a lifeline.

Bruce knows there are many other things his father was: gentle, forgiving, firm, silly, brave, peaceful and many more things. But the one thing Bruce seems to remember most is the version of him that is lifeless in an alleyway...

-A Father Is: Someone To Mourn-

Bruce is eight-years-old and cold. He doesn't care that the sun is shining down to share its heat, nor does he care for the beautiful blue of the sky...if anything, he hates the colors and the happy chirps of the birds in the trees, despises the fact that nature is so happy when he feels so blue.

Bruce hates looking out the window and seeing his mom's garden in full bloom, the red of her roses mocking him as each petal dances to the sound of the breeze. They're red like two things Bruce can think of firsthand: blood and his mother's favorite lipstick...lipstick she'll never be able to wear ever again. Why do Martha's flowers get to bloom and live another day when the woman herself is gone now? How is it fair to his mother that her garden continues to flourish when she is no longer here to tend to it?

Bruce feels anger and looks away from the too lively garden, his eyes turning to the trees and the birds living in them. His father loved listening to the birds every morning, Bruce recalls watching the sunrise on the balcony with his dad as the man cradled him in his arms and listened to the birds. Bruce remembers his father telling him once that the birds are singing every morning because they are happy. That they are trying to extend their own happiness out to the world with their joyful songs, and Bruce remembers feeling happy when hearing the birds sing...but now it makes him sad.

He desires to tell the birds to shut up, there is nothing to be happy about when his whole world was taken from him a couple days ago, he hates how alive everything is and wishes the sky was grey with clouds. He wishes that the sun would hide and rain would fall in mourning of the people lost to him, he wishes that thunder would rumble and lightning would strike in grief and he wishes that nature would still itself and be quiet, that the birds wouldn't sing a happy tune as there is nothing to be happy about. The once colorful memories of Martha's garden and Thomas's trees are now tinted blue with sadness at memories Bruce can never share with his parents ever again.

Bruce looks up into the bright blue of the sky as a tear falls down his cheek, his chest tightens at the overwhelming feeling of grief in his heart, his knees shakily lowering himself to the ground as the scent of his mother's flowers in the air are now tainted by the smell of gunpowder. 

A sob escapes the child as he wraps his arms around himself in imitation of how his father used to, he doesn't want to feel cold anymore. His body trembles as the sound of the birds chirping is tainted by his father's pained shouts as he collapses to the ground, why is he alone? All alone. Where is-

A firm hand rests on Bruce's shoulder, tugging him into a warm body that smells like lavender and something slightly smokey.

Bruce hadn't even realized he was panicking until hearing the sound of Alfred's sturdy heartbeat, now that he has something to focus on, he focuses on the life beating in the other's chest. His body slowly starts to warm up as Alfred also presses his shaky hand to his chest, the other just simply being a solid presence when Bruce is scared and unsure. "D-Don't leave me...please don't leave me." Bruce whispers into Alfred's suit jacket, something oddly warm spreading through his heart at the bleak looking clothes Alfred is wearing, usually the man has at least a splash of white to add some color...but the man is wearing all black. It's like he's letting Bruce know that he misses them too, that he isn't alone in how mundane he feels and that despite how bright things are, maybe there is still room to mourn and miss someone who is lost.

"I'm here, Bruce. I'm right here."

XXX

Bruce comes to at a firm hand on his shoulder, his hand automatically reaching up to feel the now aged hand of Alfred, breathing in deeply at the man's voice. "Bruce, are you alright?"

Bruce opens his eyes and is shocked to see the sun light coloring the room in its beautiful rays of red and orange. Blinking twice at the wetness he feels on his eyelashes, Bruce finds he doesn't mind the splashes of color as much this time around, he knows he has so many things to grieve and feel saddened over...but he also knows he has plenty to celebrate for. The man standing before him looking down worriedly, that grounding touch gently placed upon his shoulder-

"Father."

Bruce's breath hitches as he looks towards his open bedroom door, his eyes watering at the slightly sleepy look his youngest child still has on his face, he has never seen something or someone so beautiful. Is this how his own father felt long ago when Bruce came to him during mornings or for Father's Day? Bruce opens up his arms and smiles as Damian doesn't complain and climbs into the bed, holding in his laughter at the sound of the boy's other siblings making a ruckus as they flood into his room. Bruce takes a moment to look back at Alfred and finds his heart swelling with love at the man he now calls father...he knows that Alfred will never be Thomas, but the man never expected to be, all he knows is that they both are what is and was needed in his life.

Thomas Wayne taught him many valuable life lessons while he was alive, but Alfred showed him the other aspects of what a father does: step up.

Alfred didn't have to take Bruce on as his own...and yet he took care of him, fed him, clothed him, comforted him, was patient with him, was firm and a solid structure when Bruce himself felt he was about to crumble. But most importantly, he showed him to love unconditionally and without any expectations from the person you care for, the man truly has only wished the best for Bruce in times where he would scream, shout and cry at or to Alfred...and yet the man only ever opened up his arms or offered his hand for the grieving child to take whenever he was ready to.

A small hand on his cheek breaks Bruce out of his thoughts, looking down he sees Damian staring at him worriedly. And when looking up...Bruce sees so many beautiful colors from the people he loves. Finding himself thankful for the proof of life from every single one of them. "I'm...happy?" Someone in the sea of children snorts at how it sounds like a question, but Richard shushes them and tackles Bruce into a hug, the one body slowly turning into a dog pile of giggling children (plus one cousin) as they all shout. "Happy Father's Day, dad!"

Bruce feels more tears fall down his face as he closes his eyes and holds his family close to his heart, finding himself thankful for the memories of his parents as the smell of Martha's roses blows through the room and the sound of Thomas's favorite birds sing loudly for Bruce to hear. And when opening his eyes to see Alfred standing at the side of his bed simply content to watch over them, it is Bruce who offers his hand for the other to take if he wants.

A genuine smile graces Bruce's face at the warm hand wrapping around his own. The man only finding one thing to say to the man who stepped up as a man and a father-

"Happy Father's Day, Alfie."

(I just wanted a fic about Bruce actually thinking about how much he misses his parents, but because it's Father's Day I focused on Thomas a bit more. I hope I wasn't sleepy enough to not have this make some sort of sense? But again, I apologize for the writing this time around. 😭😭😭

I am sorry for the lack of Bruce's children being involved here, but as stated before, I wanted to focus on Bruce actually pondering on how much he does miss his biological father while also being happy at the father he also found in Alfred. I wanted to show a Bruce who is realizing that it's okay to still miss his late father and it's also perfectly fine for him to love Alfred like that as well.

Near the end there is a slight parallel (that probably wasn't noticeable as I didn't exactly write it that way lol) between Alfred and Bruce as father's near the end, because Bruce stepped up and in for all of his children when they were scared, alone and unstable. I also got that idea because I feel I recall one time in a Batman comic that Richard mentioned Bruce stepping in for all of them and all that cute family stuff!

DC can try to rip good dad Bruce and happy BatFam out of my hands, but I won't allow it. That version of the family is all that should exist UwU, they deserve it all! You darlings are much appreciated for stopping by to read if you did. Don't be afraid to leave a comment if you want, I promise I don't bite! 😂

You darlings please stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. And if you can...let your father's (whether bio or not) know how much you appreciate them or love them and know that everything will be alright, you just gotta believe. 💛💛💛💛)

[mtkay13]

hi! I have a question, i dont quite understand why zhou zishu is drawn to wen kexing, would you be able to help me? Esp in the earlier chapters, i just get the vibe that he's annoyed with him and doesn't want the guy's company. Do you know when he starts having feelings for wkx or how it progressed? I know zzs is very composed and in pain due to the seven nails so maybe i missed it while being focused on the plot, or maybe the translation is confusing me

Hello there!!! I'm sorry for the time I took to reply, I've been quite busy lately and I am currently taking sort of a break from this fandom (I'm not done or anything haha, just focusing on other things atm.) Anyway! Since you sent two asks, I'm going to quote the other one as well here and reply to both at once! :) Here's your second ask:

i think i answered my own question, i saw the ask where you recommended a certain translation, and the translation is completely different from the one i read. In one, zhou zishu comes off as annoyed w wen kexing and i had a hard time figuring out why tf he was even bothering to meddle. In the other, he comes off as an inquisitive person who suspects more to the situation and to wen kexing, and he's drawn in. Not to sound like an idiot but i understand why there's so many translations of greek classics now. The word choice make the interpretation completely different. I wish i could learn mandarin and learn what the original work says. Random but do you know if it'll ever get an official translation? It has a TV show and all, wouldn't it be marketable to western audiences? Question by the same Anyonymous person

As you put it yourself, yeah, the translation and tone does a lot to indicate what ZZS sees in WKX. I feel like there has been a widely shared sentiment that ZZS is pretty much fed up with him for the better part of the book's first half, and while I think it's a front that he puts up indeed, I feel like the original version and some of the translations do a good job of showing how ZZS finds WKX very intriguing, likely very strong and quite handsome (haha). I like to feel like he started developing a crush quite early on in the book, already seduced by WKX's deep and suave voice in chapter 2. From then on, more and more details about him catch ZZS' interest--WKX's appearance, mystery, his strength and martial arts expertise, and of course the way they seem to profoundly understand each other. It seems to me like there's a big shift during the campfire scene where ZZS recognises WKX's sword technique as being Wen Ruyu, the two of them thus discussing WKX's ancestry and, following that, what it means to be a good or bad person. The connection feels so strong during that conversation that it seems very likely to me that they both started falling in love from then on. Overall, where the translation may play a big role in perceiving ZZS' attraction is how "human and lively" he may seem in some versions. His quirks and "humanness" come out stronger in the ones I have recommended (IMO at least) and thus comes off as much warmer and fun. Through that characterisation, the nuance of him expressing one thing (annoyance) but feeling another (interest) is easier to understand. So yeah, indeed, translation sure is something! Haha, and there are many stories of disagreements and re-interpretations of classics even within professional translators (because for how much I can sometime criticise some versions of TYK, it's important to reiterate that these are all fan translations provided by people kindly dedicating their time and ressources to translate for free--most of the time (cough)--and share for free as well.) Well, I can only wish for you to get to read it in mandarin one day, because it's really, really great (and mandarin is just a fascinating language altogether!!) As for the official translation... I'm not very optimistic. It seems like getting publishing rights is rather complicated to begin with, and on top of that, TYK is currently locked on jjwxc (the website where it was initially published) due to censorship, which I feel makes it even more difficult. Priest has expressed in a rather recent socmed post that she didn't want to edit TYK (whether to censor it or for publication) because it was too old, so it's quite possible that she just isn't interested in putting in the work for TYK to be officially published and translated. That being said, it's just my opinion/analysis of the situation, and I may very well be wrong! Anyway, many thanks for coming to me and trusting my opinion, and I wish you a wonderful day!! 💗💗💗

[the-s1lly-corner]

How about Jason with a Jessica Rabbit-coded S/O? Basically someone glamorous, attractive and always dolled up who looks totally out of his league and is able to catch everyone’s eye, but S/O is completely loyal and head over heels for Jason.

Bonus points if there’s ever a situation where Jason is separated from them for a long time, they finally reunite and S/O just peppers Jason’s mask in kisses while telling him how much they missed their big strong man. I want to see this man FLUSTERED while I pepper his mask in kisses and call him CUTE NICKNAMES‼️😤

Idk if you’ve seen Who Framed Roger Rabbit lol

Jason x jessica rabbit!reader

i have not seen who framed roger rabbit, at least not recently enough to remember characters well BUT ive written a few jessica rabbit characters so with that + with your description i think i can tackle this well enough! though prepare for some possible mistakes just in case! notes: reader is gn but they can be viewed as fem presenting as there is mentions of makeup and other stuff thats traditionally feminine, established relationship cws: edit

youre allowed to leave the cabin sometimes for work and other stuff- youve managed to convince him through pure trust and all that... besides, its hard to get the stuff you like (clothes, makeup, product, ect) in the woods!

though as a side thing, i do like the idea of him getting you plants to make natural makeups to try.. very nice and its such a sweet gesture

very anxious the first few times you dip to go work, but you always come back and let him know how your day was

completely melts into you when you return, hes kind of like a dog when you come home

waiting by the door the second he gets the feeling youre about to enter, and hovers you around until you notice him- which doesnt take long!

thinks youre really pretty, like from a movie... he already feels... many things about his own looks, but having you there amplifies those feelings for a while-

youre going to need to reassure him that you love him and its not going to change for anything

loves watching you do your makeup, he doesnt know how to apply it himself but he does pick up on things from watching you

youre smarter than anything, too, and he loves that

it also gives him some peace for when he himself has to leave the cabin to do his job, he knows you wont go out looking for him or do something stupid

and that you can come up with something if an emergency were to happen

brings you stuff that he finds from the messes he makes; stuff that the campers bring

[bomber-grl]

BOMBER-GRL MAKE A HEADCANON ABOUT HIRO SEEING THAT HIS S/O WAS KIDNAPPED BY OBAKE (or any villain, whatever °^°) AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

Getting Kidnapped and Hiro having to deal with it

Pairing(s): Hiro Hamada x Gn!Reader

A/N: LMAOO love that audio and I feel like I made the title sound like Hiro having to save his S/o is a burden 😭💀

CW: Mentions of family death

sorry I just searched him up recently again and realized he looks like a lesbian with an undercut

Anyway

Once Obake uncovered the fact that Hiro was the leader of bh6 then he knew he’d have to act quick

And he had just the plan

Regardless of whether you’re just a normal person or work alongside bh6 or even makes support tools for them, he ended up (or rather his “children”) ended up capturing you and holding you hostage

Obake obviously ended up letting Hiro know in the most menacing way and in the middle of the night

What a great way to do so, don’t you think? /s😀

Anyway

Hiro sneaked past Cass and snuck out while texting the rest of the group to meet somewhere

(Ended up at Fred’s house, again)

They discussed how to approach the situation

I mean normally they’d go in and wing it but you were too valuable to risk losing you

Not to mention it being a direct fight with Obake

Eventually they track down where you were, the electronics on you luckily revealing your location

They broke in and of course had to fight his “kids”

Hiro immediately went to untie you and rescue you essentially but of course things just couldn’t go smoothly

Obake himself fought with Hiro as the others were preoccupied and the thing was a mess

Especially since the location of where you had been held, was on a large boat

That was very very much sinking

It had to be apart of Obakes big plan or something because he’d never allow any mistakes

As Hiro tried surviving with Baymax alongside him you felt useless

Your tools/weapons had been taken and even if you had powers of some kind the rooms structure had something built in that dampened them

Eventually Baymax ended up flying away with you and Hiro

Upon Hiros orders of course

No was capable of taking Obake just yet and that was a point with strong evidence

Especially with how everyone looked

They all looked worn and even Hiro did

It was strange, they’d normally not be that badly injured

You and everyone else regrouped and once the team broke up to go back home for the rest of the night only you and Hiro remained

The group agreed you needed to be protected and you and Hiro settled on you staying over

Usually he’d be blushing and stuff but your safety was above such a reaction

He was deadly serious the whole way and even when you tried joking he’d say something and the conversation would die off

It wasn’t until you apologized for getting abducted that Hiros live reaction is quite literally like “wtf”

It wasn’t your fault you got kidnapped and if anything he was the one that felt like shit

He sighed and he figured it was his turn to apologize and did

He explained how scared he was and how he’s extra scared of people dear to him being hurt or worse

It was left unsaid

But it was obvious Hiro was referring to Tadashi

Tadashi was a big part of Hiros world and it was clear he wasn’t over him, and probably never will be

That was clear enough with his reaction tonight and all you could do was sigh

You told him to just get ready for bed and maybe when the adrenaline has wore off and when you’re well rested, you’d be able to have a good conversation

He agreed and although it was a bit awkward he invited you to sleep with him

He was obviously shy about it but seeing the state of him, well, you couldn’t refuse

You both went to bed cuddling

And unfortunately awoke to Cass coming in to let Hiro know of something

She caught you both but didn’t mind but did give some warnings and went back downstairs to tend to the cafe

Later you learned she had been knocking for a good amount of time and became concerned so she budged in

The group was there and wanted to talk, that’s what the piece of information was

You talked about it as a group and planned to create tracking devices that were hidden so they wouldn’t be taken

Plus, you two were of course teased by the group since Cass seemed to have mentioned finding you two the way you were in passing to them

Great…