#i think of them interacting more than i should

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 6 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley asks you for your number, you can't believe he wants to spend his phone call on you. Even though you're nervous about asking, you realize you need answers to some of your questions. The promise of getting to hear your voice is enough to get Bradley through the week, but is he going to be enough for you?

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being sexy

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

When you woke up for work and checked your phone, there was a new email waiting for you from Bradley, and you couldn't decide what to do about it. As soon as you'd hit send on that selfie of you in bed, you felt like an idiot. Was he expecting something more than a random picture of you after you'd removed your makeup for the day? Was he going to eventually give up responding at all when he realized that one date with you was ultimately just a waste of his time on his stop back in San Diego?

But he had written back yet again, and you were nervous to see what he had on his mind. You dropped your phone into your purse, making a deal with yourself: you could read his response once you were at work. That would give you enough time to process your thoughts on the matter. You were being silly for wanting more and expecting more with every interaction. This man owed you nothing. You were probably in over your head with the mutual daydreaming and flirtation.

What were you going to do when it was easy for him to say that talking to you had been fun, but he needed to get back to his real life? What were you going to do when you weren't able to do the same?

Once you were settled at your desk looking at your Natural History notes in those last few minutes of solitude before your eighteen students arrived for the day, you let yourself indulge in Bradley's words. 

Hey, Gorgeous,

You're the only woman I'm going to let email me regularly. And I was right. You do look adorable snuggled up in your bed. That photo is going to keep me up at night wondering how cute you'd look in mine...

It looks like I'll have the opportunity to make a phone call soon, and I'd love to hear your voice. If you want to talk. I can't guarantee I won't sound like an idiot, tripping over my words the whole time, but hey, a guy can dream. Will you let me have your phone number?

Yours Truly,

Bradley

"Oh my god." You forced yourself to read it slower the second time around. He was thinking about you in his bed! He wanted your phone number! "What are you doing to me?" you groaned. 

He wanted to call you. This man wanted to use his phone call allowance on you. He wanted to let you hear his deep, raspy voice over the phone while he spoke sentences that were tailor made for you. He expected you to be able to respond to him in real time? You were embarrassed to admit that it often took you hours or days to figure out how to reply to one of his emails after he set the butterflies off in your belly.

You did not know what you should do here, but you knew exactly what you were going to do. It was going to be impossible to pull yourself back out of this mess when the time came.

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

Before Bradley got a response to his email asking for your phone number, he got a box from your class. He could certainly get used to waiting in line when the mail arrived to find himself smiling with satisfaction instead of feeling disappointment. When he got back to his bunk and opened it, he rooted through all of the drawings of F/A-18s in search of the note from you. He smiled at the more businesslike greeting, knowing how many personal topics you and he had covered through email.

Dear Lt Bradshaw,

It seems as though we can't get enough of you. We're back, hoping for a little more of your time. Here's a batch of drawings for you to judge in any manner you see fit, but please be kind... I drew one of them. 

Whether it's a handwritten note or an email, I'm looking forward to hearing from you soon. 

Just looking at your tidy penmanship had Bradley antsy to check his email again. He had put himself out there as far as he could at the moment when he asked you for your phone number, but now he was nervous as hell. What was he supposed to do if you told him no? He'd already planned out not only a first date but a second date as well. He could wait you out. Unless you outright shut him down, he would take his time, making sure you were comfortable. 

Upon inspection of the Super Hornet drawings, it was easy enough to determine which one was yours. It was clearly crafted with a steadier hand than the others, and even the block printing on the side of the aircraft where you'd written 'BRADLEY ROOSTER BRADSHAW' looked like your penmanship. He looked through the other ones, quickly making the assumption that the one with flames and dragon scales had been drawn by Oliver. The one with purple outlining was most likely from Violet. Something was telling him the one with a dog piloting the jet was drawn by Jayden.

He smiled at how connected to these kids he felt, but ultimately he tossed everything back into the box and started heading for the lounge. If you had responded to him with your phone number, he could get himself on the call schedule. His heart was racing, and his skin felt too warm as he logged into his email account. He had three new messages.

"Come on," he groaned when he was met with two names above yours in his inbox. Nat and Vanessa. He almost forgot about the fucking water bottle. 

He tapped on the email from his best friend first. 

Rooster, I need you to make better choices regarding your girlfriends, okay? I took care of it, but it wasn't pretty. Her pink monstrosity of a water bottle was in your kitchen cabinet, and then she tried to have a conversation with me. Sorry, but I called her a flaming bitch who never appreciated my best friend and said she needed to leave your house before I made her. Everything is locked up tight again to keep the rats out. When you get home, there's a new restaurant you can treat me to on Rendova Road. -Nat

He smiled as he tapped on the email from Vanessa which was exactly one sentence long.

I got my water bottle from your house.

"God bless Natasha Trace," he muttered, deleting Vanessa's email. Then he went ahead and deleted every email he had ever received from her. He shouldn't have been surprised that you and he had already exchanged more emails than he ever had with a woman he'd dated for several months. It didn't take long before they were all gone, and then he was left with the newest one you'd sent to him last night sitting at the top of his inbox. 

"Here we go," he whispered, wiping his palm nervously on his pants before opening up your message to see what you had to say in response to his bold request for your phone number.

Bradley,

I read your last email an embarrassing number of times, trying to be sure I understood it properly. You want to use your phone call allotment on ME? And you were thinking about ME snuggled up in your bed? There's no possible way you could sound like an idiot. Not with that voice that I think about when I'm trying to fall asleep at night. 

You know what, I don't even care if I misinterpreted something. Of course I'll let you have my phone number. Of course I'll let you call me.

Your giddy pen pal

Right there below your parting words was your full phone number complete with San Diego area code. Bradley smiled as he grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from the shelves behind him and wrote it down. He double and triple checked that he had it correct, knowing his next mission would be to get approved for a specific time slot and hope it wasn't going to be at a horrible time of day for you in California. Then he wrote back to your email.

Gorgeous,

You shouldn't sound so surprised. This thing we've got going on isn't open to interpretation on my end. I told you I have a thing for you. I believed you when you said you were interested in getting to know me. There's nobody else I'd rather spend my twenty minute phone call on than you. In fact, you're the only one. 

I already memorized your number. I'll email you back when I know which day I can call you and at what time. I can't wait to hear your voice saying my name.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

He logged out and did some quick math to take into account the difference between time zones, and then he was all smiles as he signed up for the opportunity to finally talk to you in real time.

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

You read his email again as the hours slowly ticked away on Saturday afternoon. Your friends were asking why you kept checking your phone while you were out to dinner. Well, they would be doing the same thing if Bradley Bradshaw was in their email inboxes sounding sweeter than any man had the right to.

Hey, Gorgeous,

How does 10:00 on Saturday night sound to you? I know it's a little late, but I didn't want to potentially interfere with your work week. And I don't know if I can wait until next week anyway. I'm feeling greedy right now when it comes to you. I can't wait to make a fool of myself on the phone.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

When you let him know in the calmest fashion you could muster that Saturday night was just fine for a phone call, he wrote back one additional sentence.

Talk to you then, Gorgeous Girl.

You received that email on Friday morning, and in an effort to seem less desperate for this man than you were, you didn't write back. It was better to let his anticipation grow to match your own. But once you'd parted ways with your friends and headed home for the night, your nerves settled in. You were going to have to ask Bradley where he lived, and that would be that. You'd know all the facts soon enough, and that would pretty much become the determining factor on how long the two of you could really keep this up.

It was almost time. You made sure your phone was fully charged, and you had your ringtone volume turned way up. Barring some sort of disaster, your phone should be ringing in exactly fifteen minutes. 

"Chill out," you whispered as you walked a few laps around your apartment in your favorite underwear and an oversized sweatshirt. At 9:56 you paused in your bedroom doorway, convinced Bradley wasn't even going to call. And at 10:02, you sat on the edge of your bed with your phone in your hand, wondering how you managed to get yourself in this deep.

He was in the Navy. Things ran on precision. It was 10:04, and your phone was sitting there on your palm like a dead brick. "It's okay," you told yourself. "Maybe he'll still call." For a few minutes, you thought that being hopeful was the way to go. Perhaps he dialed the wrong number the first time and was just regrouping. Or perhaps not.

At 10:11, you set your phone on your nightstand and walked out into your living room without it. That was when you realized that the lighter-than-air tingling sensation you'd been enjoying all day was gone, replaced with something uncomfortable.

"Don't even think about crying," you whispered as you pulled the hem of your sweatshirt a little further down your legs. You'd normally be drinking a cup of tea and getting settled in to try to go to sleep. A few months ago, you might have even been scrolling through a dating app right now. But you didn't want to do either of those things when you'd essentially been promised something as exciting as Bradley Bradshaw's voice for twenty minutes straight. "Fuck."

Just as you dragged your toe along the kitchen tile, trying to decide what to do now, you heard your ringtone. The clock on your microwave told you it was 10:16 as you turned and ran for your bedroom. Your fingers were shaking as you snatched up your phone and read RESTRICTED CALLER on the screen. You weren't sure what you'd been expecting, but it had to be him.

You took a deep breath and sank down onto the floor with your back against the side of your bed, and without any further hesitation, you answered the call as your heart hammered hard in your chest.

"Bradley?"

There was just a short pause, and it sounded like he was smiling when he said, "Hey, Gorgeous." 

The lighter-than-air tingling sensation was back as soon as you heard him say two whole words, and you slid slowly down until you were laying on your back on the floor like a boneless mess. "Hi," you sighed, pressing your free hand to your belly to try to calm the butterflies.

You heard him clear his throat softly before he said, "I'm really sorry I'm late calling you. I've been waiting for this all damn weekend." There was an edge to his voice that gave you goosebumps on your legs, and you smiled before you immediately frowned.

"Does this mean we only have four minutes to talk instead of twenty?" you asked him.

"No, I made sure of that," he replied in his deep rasp. "I even got a little bitchy with the guy before me who wouldn't end his call on time. I told him the most gorgeous teacher from Mira Mesa Elementary was waiting for me to call and that I'd be lucky if she still wanted to talk to me now."

You couldn't help but laugh as the tingling sensation made its way to your fingers and toes. "You didn't tell him that!"

"I swear I did," he insisted, his voice on the verge of laughter. "He sends his apologies." He cleared his throat once more before he asked, "Any chance you could say my name again?"

You thought you detected some nervous energy in his voice which was somehow the most flattering thing you'd ever encountered. You closed your eyes and licked your lips, picturing his handsome face as you said, "Bradley."

Now his voice was as breathless as you knew yours was. "Yeah. I really like the way that sounds."

"Bradley," you repeated with a laugh as you rolled up into a little ball on your side with your phone held to your ear.

"Hey, if you want to just say my name for the next eighteen minutes, I'm not going to complain. I was dying to hear your voice, and now I just want more of it."

You had to press your lips together to keep from making an embarrassing sound, but you did manage to say, "Yeah, that's not really going to work for me, Lieutenant Bradshaw. I'm going to need some back and forth, especially with how much I like your voice. And your face."

He groaned softly, and now you really did make an embarrassing noise before you could clap your free hand over your mouth. "My face is nothing special, Gorgeous," he said. "Yours on the other hand... that's the kind of thing that could get a guy through a long deployment."

You whimpered, and you were sure he could hear it. But you weren't even as embarrassed as you were needy for more. You wanted to know everything about him, and twenty minutes wasn't going to be enough to satisfy you when it came to Bradley. "Let's just say you've had my full attention for months now. And the photos you sent are enough to get a girl through a long school year. Will you tell me how you got your scars?" you asked him. It was something you'd been curious about since the first photo he sent where you could see his face. The one of him standing tall and sexy in front of his jet.

"Oh, hell," he laughed, his voice taking on a self deprecating tone. "I knew I shouldn't have sent that sunset selfie. I was kind of hoping you wouldn't be able to see them in the photos or the video. I have a lot."

You scrambled to your knees and then your feet. The last thing you'd meant to do was make him feel badly about himself. "They just make you look hotter," you blurted out. "I've thought about kissing them."

"Shit," he grunted. "Baby, I'll tell you anything you want to know. My social security number? My bank account information?" You laughed and had to bite down on your knuckle as he said, "I got my scars when I was a sophomore at the University of Virginia. Just typical nineteen year old guy bullshit. I was riding my bike back from a party late, and I skipped the curb. Just a lot of stitches."

"Oh," you gasped.

"It's okay," he said quickly. "More superficial than anything. I didn't even miss any of my classes. This is just why I don't usually send selfies like that. But you're already an exception, aren't you?"

He was so sweet, you were afraid the butterflies would never stop. But now you were picturing him going back to a beautiful house in Virginia, and it just made you sad. You paced the length of your room as you said, "I'd still really like to see your face in person."

"That's a done deal, Gorgeous."

You bit your lip, already knowing how you were going to react, but you just needed to have all the facts. "I know we could probably meet for a date or two while you're on leave in San Diego, but what happens after that?"

There was a brief pause before he asked, "What do you mean?"

You tipped your head back and looked at your ceiling as you finally said, "I don't even know where you live or where you're stationed. All I know is that if you're returning to Virginia or somewhere else far away... I'm going to have to brace myself for it."

But when you heard his next sentence, you let yourself drop down onto your bed with a smile on your face. "Gorgeous Girl, I live in San Diego."

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

This was going well. Bradley's whole body was thrumming with anticipation, and your voice was already embedded in his mind. As soon as you mentioned just the thought of your lips on his scarred cheek, he had to stand up for a minute. And when you brought up meeting him when his deployment ended, he was afraid his heart rate might never return to normal.

"I'd still really like to see your face in person," you told him, and all he could think about was Thai food on the beach and kissing your lips.

"That's a done deal, Gorgeous," he replied, satisfied in knowing for sure that it was going to happen now, but your follow up question left him confused.

"I know we could probably meet for a date or two while you're on leave in San Diego, but what happens after that?"

After that? He sat back down in his seat and thought about what would happen after a date or two. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep his hands and lips off you, but somehow he didn't think that's what you were talking about. "What do you mean?"

Your voice took on a softer, maybe sadder quality as you told him,  "I don't even know where you live or where you're stationed. All I know is that if you're returning to Virginia or somewhere else far away... I'm going to have to brace myself for it."

He froze. He hadn't told you where he lived? Had he really never mentioned it once in all the times he wrote out the address to your school in Mira Mesa? His heart was beating erratically now as he pieced together the fact that he was making all of these plans while you were trying to protect yourself, but you kept emailing him and sending him letters anyway. You were showing that you had genuine interest in him while afraid he was going to leave you high and dry after one date? Hell no. Oh, he was falling hard.

"Gorgeous Girl, I live in San Diego." 

Your little surprised gasp had him holding his breath. "You do?" you whispered. 

"I do," he promised. "Shit, I can't believe I never mentioned it. My house is in Coronado, near the beach in the photo you sent me where you look more flawless than the sunset. I'm so sorry I got so carried away with our emails that I never put it together that you didn't know I'm stationed out of North Island."

You were quiet for a beat, and he wanted to crawl through the phone and reassure you that he had never meant to stress you out. "You live in Coronado?" you asked.

"Yeah, Gorgeous. About thirty minutes away from your school. I mean, there's always traffic, so maybe forty minutes," he told you nervously. "I hope that's not too far for you to deal with?"

"That's nothing, Bradley," you said with a sigh. "That's... absolutely not too far. I thought you potentially lived thousands of miles away, and I was trying to figure out what to do about my feelings. I was so scared to ask you sooner."

Vanessa wouldn't even drive the extra ten minutes to the restaurant he liked, meanwhile you were putting yourself out there for him. He cleared his throat and said, "I already have our first date planned out."

"Tell me. In an abundance of detail."

Bradley's skin tingled with desire as he divulged his daydreams. "I'll drive up and pick you up at your place. You already gave me permission to hold your hand, so that's happening on the ride back to the beach. There's a good Thai place not too far from the bay bridge where we'll stop to pick up dinner. Then when we get to the beach, you'll be surprised and charmed that I packed blankets and a cooler full of beer and a bottle of prosecco. And we can sit on the beach, talking and eating while the sun sets, unless you'd rather sit in the back of my vintage Bronco. And then, when the sky is just starting to turn purple, I'm going to kiss you."

The beat of silence was satisfying before you asked, "You're going to wait until after dinner to do that?" He could practically hear your pout which made him get to his feet again. He only had five more minutes with you right now, and he was going to have to make this count.

"You want me to kiss you before that?" he asked, his fingers wrapping around the edge of the counter as your soft laughter met his ears.

"I want you to kiss me as soon as you see me."

"Fuck," he panted. "Then consider that a done deal too, Gorgeous."

"Oh, I like that."

"Yeah?" he asked, watching time slip through his fingers. "You feel more confident now that you know where I live?"

"Yes," you replied softly.

"Good." He closed his eyes as he said, "We only have a little more time right now, Baby. Anything else you want from me?"

You squeaked softly. "Will you email me a gym selfie or two? With a nice closeup of your face?"

He couldn't get over you and the way you made him feel. "Yeah. I'll hit the gym tomorrow for you."

You hummed softly, and he sat down in his chair again, raking his fingers through his hair. God, he felt like a mixed up mess over you after this conversation. Your voice was so fucking sweet as you asked him, "Anything you want from me?"

His plentiful thoughts ranged the full spectrum from innocent to decidedly not as he tugged on his hair and tried to keep himself in check. "Yeah, actually," he said, gravel filling his voice. "You know that inactive dating profile you mentioned before?"

"Yes."

"You should delete the app. There's nothing I know about you that I don't like, and I feel like that trend is going to continue. If you feel the same way, then you don't need the app, Gorgeous."

After a brief pause, your beautiful voice told him, "Okay, Bradley. I'll delete it."

"Fucking aces," he said with a smile. "Where are you right now?"

You laughed softly as he realized he had less than a minute left on this call. "Curled up in my bed with the biggest smile on my face."

"Send me a selfie?"

"Consider it done, Lieutenant. It'll be there when you check your email next."

He leaned back in his chair. There was still so much he wanted to tell you and ask about, but it would have to wait. "Listen, I need to go. But I'm going to work on writing back to your class this week. And I'll get the selfies for you, too. I'll see you in our inboxes?"

That soft laughter was right there again, and he felt like his skin was on fire as you said, "I'll take you any way I can get you, Bradley."

You could have him as many ways as you wanted him. "I can't wait to get back to San Diego."

"I'll be ready when you do."

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

I'm sweating. He's too much. He's too powerful. Bradley Bradshaw, get home and get your girl some Thai food! Also, Natasha is the friend of the year for taking out the trash. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[retrobutterflies]

Little Dragon | t.n.

Theodore Nott x Female!Reader

Summary: You are not a fan of one of his admirers and he thinks you are a pretty idiot.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Jealousy, Fluff, mentions of snow lol, a hint suggestive at the end if you squint

A/N: I haven't written in a while. This is just a fun little thing, an hors d'œuvre if you will.

Abigail was nothing if not brazen. It had taken you years to be comfortable in the presence of Slytherin's most exclusive group. For a while you didn't even realize Pansy Parkinson had considered you anything more than a suitemate let alone a friend until she hexed Lacy Cressilda for calling you bitch. And Draco Malfoy barely dignified you with anything more than a smirk until one night he was trashed out of his mind and proclaimed that he would help you hide a body should you ever need. You assured him you wouldn't.

It was only by 6th year did you feel fully welcomed into the friend group. Now instead of getting wary glances when you sat with them at dinner, you were getting indignant glances when you joined other friends of yours for a change of pace.

But seeing Abigail seat herself comfortably between Draco and Theo, smiling easily and joining into the conversation seamlessly made you falter. Abigail Thorn had never really interacted with your friends. Though she was a sixth year Slytherin, her group of friends never really crossed paths with yours. At least, not until last term when Abigail started sitting closer by in the great hall, tugging along unwilling friends, or switching seats with annoyed Hufflepuffs to sit next to one of you in Potions. And now, relaxing in the common room when mostly everyone else had slinked up to bed, she had found her way into the conversation, her friends long since retired. 

You watched her from your seat on the opposing couch. The fireplace was dousing the room in a dancing orange glow, illuminating smiling faces and slouched forms. Someone had tossed a cinnamon stick directly onto the firewood so the room smelled of autumn spices and smoke. Mattheo made a crude joke from his spot laying on the green-woven rug on the floor in front of the hearth and Abigail let out a laugh, leaned forward, and rested her hand on Theo's knee.

A swirling green monster crawled up your throat and wrapped its tendrils around your neck. Your eyes zeroed in on her hand, fingers flexing on the dark material of his pants, and imagined shooting out a nasty stinging hex. You glanced up to see Theo's dark eyes swoop down to the hand on his leg. He eye'ed it, eye'ed her, then slowly, delicately in the soft-quiet way he does most things, moved her hand back to her lap. You wanted to feel pleased at that action, pleased that he didn't want her touching him but she moved again, her lips moving around words you weren't paying attention to as your eyes stared at her hand creeping through his arm to lock it with hers. And then with a smile, she rested her cheek on the curve of his shoulder.

You felt like you were on fire. Heat flared up your spine, flushing your cheeks and the back of your neck. The forest-green turtle neck you were wearing was suddenly choking you and you felt like if you didn't get up in that very moment then you would self-destruct.

"I'm going to the bathroom," you muttered softly to Pansy who gave you a nod while keeping her attention on one of Mattheo's long-winded stories.

You headed straight for the common room door. It was after curfew but you didn't care if one of the prefects saw you walking around. You just needed fresh air. You needed to freeze out all the raging fire in your lungs, squash it into a piteous puff of smoke. You shot out of the nearest door and found yourself in one of the stone courtyards. The ground was blanketed in a sweep of fresh snow clear and untouched. A few stray snowflakes fluttered in the air, glittering in the firelight of scattered torches, replacing the lack of stars in the dark milky sky. You took a deep breath and welcomed the icy air that cut through your chest. It sizzled your anger until only a pile of ashy shame was left.

Theodore Nott was no one to you but a friend. You had no possessive claim to him like your body seemed to think. He could touch whoever he wanted, be touched by whoever he wanted. And you had no right to get so upset at the thought. But you were. You hated even the briefest moment seeing him with another girl. If the thought of him linking arms with a girl was enough to make you want to hex her you could only imagine the nightmare you'd be when he actually got a girlfriend.

You felt like you could be sick. You took another deep breath and then another. Closing your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest as if to shut out all of your buzzing thoughts. A swirl of wind sent a dusting of snow across your stocking-clad legs, your skirt giving you little protection but you welcomed it, hoped it would help distract you so that when you found the courage to go back inside you were less of a raging psychopath.

"Are you alright?"

His voice cut through the still of the night and sent a shock down your back. Your eyes shot open and you turned to see Theo slowly walking up to you, hands in his pockets, shiny leather shoes crunching on compact snow.

"Yeah. Fine. Just–" you breathed out slightly, hot air puffing into the cold night, arms tightening across your sternum, "hot."

His eyes were dark and gleaming under the night sky. You couldn't help but squirm whenever they stayed on you for too long as if your body physically couldn't handle their intensity. They trailed down your crossed arms, over your fluttering green-plaid skirt, and down your legs, goosebumps barely concealed through the sheer tights. Then his eyes, dark and deep and heavy, found yours again.

"You look cold," he concluded.

"I'm– Well, now . . . yes," you stumbled on your words and hoped that he thought the pink creeping across your cheeks was because of the frigid air and not your scrambled nerves, "but it's . . . good."

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"It's good?" He echoed, eyebrows raising and smirk pulling up the corners of his lips. "You're shaking."

You didn't notice until he said it but you did feel a tremble in your body.

"I like it," you replied. Half true, half lie. You liked it enough to distract you but your legs were starting to feel numb and your teeth were starting to thrum together in a quiet symphony.

"You like it," he echoed again and you knew he could smell your fibs like food. Theo was a bloodhound for lies.

"I just–," your eyes flickered to his and then back to the courtyard when you couldn't hold his stare any longer, "–needed some air."

You heard him step closer, snow crunching underneath his footsteps. He was quiet for a few moments, looking out at the empty courtyard with you, watching the snow flurries and taking in the icy air.

"You're angry," he stated, breaking up the quiet. His voice was soft and low but it sent a shockwave down your spine.

"I'm not," you deflected before you could think. You could feel his gaze fall to the side of your face but knew if you met those keen eyes your facade would crack and splinter.

"You are," he assured. You wanted to argue, spit back a retort and stroke the burning anger that apparently you weren't hiding well enough.

"And how would you know that?" You replied, words as tight as the arms crossed over your chest.

"Because you're brooding," he said and you felt yourself bristle. This time your eyes met his and you frowned, narrowing them at his crinkling in the corners as his smile tugged up.

"I'm not," you tried to think of something to defend yourself, or something clever so his attention would be diverted, but all you could settle on was, "I do not brood."

"No?" He let out a hum, hand reaching into the depths of his pocket to pull out a beat-up pack of cigarettes. He slid one out, tapping it seemingly unconsciously against the side of the cardboard as he picked through the thoughts in his head. You watched as his thumb and pointer finger pinched the rim and ignited a small flame enough for it to start smoking. You'd seen him do it before but felt just as breathless seeing it again, Theo and his wand-less tricks.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours again and your heart felt like it was getting vacuumed into your stomach at their heaviness, at their weight. His eyes, dark and shining, enticing enough that they seemed to weave their own spells. You felt rooted to the spot, powerless to tear your gaze away. He brought the cigarette up to his lips, inhaling, holding the breath, then exhaling a swirling cloud of smoke into the night, his eyes keeping yours captive.

"If I look hard enough I might be able to see smoke coming out of your ears," he commented. His smirk grew at your flushed cheeks.

Finally, finally you were able to rip your eyes away, glaring at one of the weeping angel statues of the fountain nestled in the middle of the courtyard. You were silent, pushing through scrambled thoughts, trying to find a placating excuse. Enough so that he wouldn't make you admit how pathetic you were being.

"Come on, my little dragon. Tell me what's wrong and I'll make it better," he drawled, taking another inhale of his cigarette.

Your insides burned at the nick-name.

"Is–" You bit the inside of your cheek, debating, deciding, before relenting, eyes shutting tight as you forced the next few words out of your mouth, "Are you and Abigail close?"

He was quiet for a moment. You counted to ten, then ten again before daring to open your eyes and cast a wary look at him. All teasing amusement was gone.

"Abigail?" He finally said. He looked surprised, brows tugging in at the center of his face like he was trying to decipher a riddle. "I hardly know her."

The words stroked your blazing core, calming it slightly. You mulled them over in your mind but stabbing images of her arm in his, her hand on his knee had the inner flame in your chest roaring. Theo was watching you carefully, as if only now seeing your real ire.

"Right," you muttered, feeling guilt and jealously and anger and shame weave together in your gut.

"Did she," he took a careful step closer so you could smell the aroma of his cigarette intertwining with his cologne that hung on him like shadows. Dark and woodsy and spiced. "Did she say something to you?"

His tone was soft but you could hear the twinge of sharpness. The silent assurance that if she had he would be stalking off to her in retaliation. And though the thought of lying and releasing Theo's acid anger on her pleased you, you knew it wouldn't be fair. Realistically, she had been nothing but kind to you. If only she had been unpleasant. Then you'd at least feel less guilty turning Theo against her.

But you weren't that evil. At least not tonight.

"No," you admitted, keeping your hard glare facing the dark sky. He waited for you to continue, to give voice to the cacophony of thoughts he could see buzzing behind your stormy eyes. You debated waiting him out, testing his patience until he sighed and relented and decided he was going back inside. But if you were a master of the long game, Theo was the creator.

"She was just . . . being very friendly towards you. And I wasn't sure–I didn't know if you knew her like that–" you let out a frustrated huff, welcoming the icy sting of the winter air as you sucked in another breath, "I just think that if, maybe, you got a girlfriend or something you'd tell us or something or–" you huffed again, "Or you'd warn me–Us. I mean–" you cut yourself off.

"Girlfriend?" He seemed well and truly shocked now. He let out a chocked laugh, staring at you with wide eyes. "You think she's my girlfriend?"

You felt like a fool. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment and you wanted to launch yourself off the edge of the courtyard and swan dive into the depths of the Black Lake, never to be heard from again.

"She was all over you. She was laying on you–" you bristled again, invisible wings flaring. You met his gaze and glared at him but he only laughed again, a rich smooth laugh that had your nerves zapping your insides.

"You're jealous," he finally said, eyes bright and blazing as he regarded you.

"I'm–" you couldn't even bring yourself to deny it. You had said far too much. You should've stalked off to the bathroom like you had said. Then maybe you could've drowned yourself in the toilet instead of being here, facing up to this.

"You're an idiot." His words felt like a slap. You opened your mouth to respond with an equally cutting remark but he spoke first.

"Her? Really? You're daft. And blind," he took a step closer until the tip of his leather shoe nudged your own and you had to crane your neck up to glare at him, "And–"

"If you keep insulting me I'm going to hex you," you threatened.

He reached out a hand and cupped the back of your neck. His fingers pressed into the skin, circling and massaging the muscle until you felt yourself deflate.

"Aren't you supposed to be smart? How could you possibly think it would be her?" He was so close now that every breath smelled of him and his cologne.

"Theo," your voice turned pleading.

His hand moved slowly from your neck up to the back of your head, fingers weaving into the silky strands.

"This has to be a cruel game that you're playing," he murmured, face inching ever closer. His eyes were piercing yours and you felt helpless to move, helpless to even speak. "You have to know what I feel for you."

Your lungs felt like they had been filled with ice. Your mouth opened but no words came out. He was so close to you and his eyes were suffocating you and you felt like you might well and truly burn up from the inside out.

His free hand, cigarette lost to the frozen ground, curved around the plush of your cheek. His thumb swiped the velvet skin under your eye and you didn't think you were breathing anymore.

"I only want your skin to touch mine," he finally said. His voice was so low, so soft, it caressed your burning cheeks. Your hands, numb from the cold, found their way to his chest, clutching at the wool of his dark sweater. He hummed in satisfaction.

"Only you are allowed to touch me," he breathed, eyes skimming your face, darting between your eyes. "Understand?"

You nodded mutely and he hummed again. Then his lips were touching yours. Warm and velvet lips caressing your own frost kissed ones. He exhaled into the kiss, his breath tickling your face. Your hands clutched at him, tugging him ever closer as you sunk into the kiss. Your body melted, relaxing into him, a rush of relief soaking down your spine and extinguishing the flames that had been coiling up your back. His kisses turned deeper, more desperate. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip then his lips soothed the sting. The hand at your cheek pulled away and you were close to whining before he was wrapping it around your waist, hoisting you higher, closer, chests pressing together so he could deepen his kisses and steal the air from your burning lungs.

It was a while before he pulled away. He admired your flushed cheeks and starry eyes that blinked up at him. His fingers woven in your hair tightened, gripping. You couldn't ignore the flash of pleasure that erupted in your stomach.

"Next time you decide to have a tantrum, at least come get me first," he murmured, words rumbling through kiss-bitten lips. You would've glared if you could think straight. But your mind was hazy and your lips were tingling and all you could think about was kissing him again.

[sharkiethrts]

short prompt: dancing and singing ('vulgar', as sunday would call it) songs with sunday

relations: sunday x reader, robin mentioned at the end!

Notes: modern au. Highschool prom au? You can interpret this however- even Sunday going to a club for the first time (how did you convince him, even?) Nevermind, maybe a house party is more fitting? Sunday doesn't have his wings here since it's supposed to be modern au. Did not reread this by the way, so grammatical errors wouldn't be surprising.

warnings: borderline suggestive??? to be honest, it's just the lyrics of 'california girls' that you should be worried about haha Reader is gender neutral by the way (but if there is any insinuated of gender in the story I may have missed, please correct me!)

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

Walking into the crowded room, the blaring music and the rising temperature caused by the throng of students accumulating in one spot overtakes you. You try to stand on your tiptoes, eyes squinting to gauge how far you are from your goal- the dancefloor. You're far. Like, remarkably far.

You had planned to enter much earlier, discarding your coat at the coat-rack placed not-so-meticulously at an inconvenient spot behind the door, yet your diligent partner just couldn't let it be. Although Sunday has tried to seem more laidback while he was courting you (as he'd call it, you tried to call it 'chase' once, while abbreviating the blooms of your love story to your friends at a housewarming party, but he cut you off rather curtly- claiming that it made him sound predatory- he seemed offended when you laughed at that).

Nevertheless, he went on to smoothing out both your coats, folding them (in a way you've only seen store employees do) carefully and then stuffing them into a bag he had brought. The bag is then hung carefully at the middle of the rack, careful to not trip the other clumsily placed jackets of your mutual friends (some unknown to you, you realise now- Jess has always been popular).

You swear that he would have done the same to the rest of the coats if it weren't for the fact you pulled him incessantly by his arm, shooting him pouting looks and an annoyed cry.

You shoot your partner a brief glare, he returns a confused look right back at you but not bothering to ask for further details- you do have quite the idiosyncrasy only belonging to you, he reasons. Your interaction is cut short by the switch of the songs. Sunday seemed rather disappointed, it had been Robin's newest song after all. But it seems that you two came in too late (you'd pity him if it weren't for him suffering from the consequences of his own actions).

You, however, are absolutely beaming. California Girls.

You pulled him by his sleeve (you're not quite sure why he chose a stiff button-up for this occasion, but then again- you don't think he has any other attire that'd be suitable for this), "You sing right?" You say over the noise.

"What?" He doesn't seem to hear.

"You sing! You told me before- you were in a choir!" You scream this time, he seems to understand now- shaking his head to refuse.

"Sippin gin and juice!" You ignore him, taking the lead. He shakes his head, saying something like how it's too 'vulgar' and how the 'lyrics are disrespectful and have objectifying undertones'. You roll your eyes, "Tryna creep a little sneak peek- At us!"

You encourage him more, flashing your most earnest look (you do feel rather earnest, the only time you've ever heard him sing was when you had a nightmare, he had hummed you to sleep- but other than that? Nothing else. No lyrics, no nothing. Since then, you have been rather adamant on pushing more out of him.

He seems to have been convinced (weak, you'd tease- if it weren't for the fact that Sunday is petty enough to never sing again just for that) and you wait for him to join in, "But nothing comes close to the golden coast," Your eyes gleam at the gentle tune of his voice, with an expertly tuned technique. He makes this song sounds holy, even.

"Once you party with us," You lead on, leaning in with a teasing push on your knees, your hands moving to grasp at his shoulders. He reciprocates by holding onto your back, completing your line, "You'll be falling in love"

Exhilarated by his concession, you let out an off tune and off time plethoras of 'oh's, to which he had laughed at- eyes wrinkled and head slightly thrown back- messing up his neatly combed long hair.

You grin. This was going to be a night.

You grip at his hand with your other, feeling the clammy surface of it. You realise he's nervous, baring his feelings like no other. He must be unfamiliar with the closeness of it all, with the downright sexual lyrics spilling out of his mouth at this point.

You lean in by his ear, breath hitting where he shivers.

"Sex on the beach," His cheeks bloom red- alongside with his ears that now look bruised in purple and red. He tries to pull back, definitely to scold you for your 'indecency'. You don't let him, ". We don't mind sand in our stilettos."

By the end of the night, you forgot your coats at the rack, walking home singing your surfeit of Katy Perry songs.

You remember to film a clip of Sunday belting the lyrics of 'Last Friday Night'. To which you sent to Robin, where she responded with long series of questions.

Funny, to think that you had been to shy to ever talk to her before this. Where she had given you her phone number when Sunday had first introduced you in a cafe. You had thought that she was just exchanging polite platitudes, to which Sunday refuted that Robin had been genuinely lonely.

With her excited response, you finally start to believe him.

'Send me more! You have more, right?!' to 'Where were you? Invite me next time! We should go together!"

You grin, it's the next morning (scratch that, it's one) and your feet are sore from the dancing (Sunday had spun you around once, you think he told you- 'it's my rendition of the galopede of the 1820s').

You call her, to which she picks up immediately, "He vomited the moment we came home," Was the first thing you said.

She understood you immediately, "He drank?"

"Vodka. Even took his part in games- won his first note, I'd wager."

You spent the whole afternoon recounting the night to her, to which she swooned and battered you up for more.

"Ah." You paused for a second.

"What is it?!" By this point, Robin has forgotten about her upcoming rehearsal in fifteen, to which she always comes thirty minutes early. She missed that mark fifteen minutes ago.

"I think we may have left our coats at Jess' house."

Robin completely lost it at that. So worth it.

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream and your first time with them.

AN: Another suggestive scenario??? ngl this is more on the crack side tbh, just two awkward virgins trying to navigate sex lol. Still minors do not interact.

Mark Lee

You and Mark are touchy as a couple, loves making out BUT just never went that far, because both of you don't know WHEN you two should have sex. Your first time would be in a romantic way, like celebrating your first anniversary with him. You just wanted it to be special, and you're 100% sure that you want him to be your first. SO, the setup was cute, with all the candles and rose petals! But as soon as you two lay on bed, you two are unsure of what to start, but eventually, Mark leads you on. It was cute, and definitely a lot of giggles and awkward things happened, like stopping midway and watch Mark struggle to unwrap the condom.

Huang Renjun

Listen, Renjun loves you so much AND respects you so much. So when you two had sex, it was definitely a case of a drunk sex. Both of you don't know if it was the alcohol that's talking, or just you two who are very horny at that moment. It was just supposed to be a heated make-out session, until Renjun keeps asking you questions, and you can definitely feel he's hard at that moment! So in the end, you two agreed to have sex. You two stumbled on his bed, clumsily removing each other's clothes, and the lights are still on. It was okay to say at least, but you two woke up and just had a euphoria moment that you two just had sex. Renjun swore to you that he'll do better next time.

Lee Jeno

Probably happened at the spur of a moment. You just REALLY really had the urge to be fucked, maybe you were ovulating during that time it happened LOL. Jeno hesitated at first, keep asking you a hundred times if you really want it, but eventually complied. Jeno is such a gentleman to you, and tried as much as possible to make you feel good BUT he keeps on asking "is this okay?" EVERY MINUTE, but that's just because he doesn't want to cross your boundaries. :( in the end, you told him just do whatever he wants, but he still glances at you every time he does something, so you have to nod as a go signal. The sex was gentle. Very vanilla and you two cuddled after finishing. 

Lee Haechan

Another case of a drunk sex. You two decided to do it after a minute of teasing each other, you two are just really horny for each other that you two did it with clothes on. You two aren't just in the right mind that moment, so it's the alcohol that's doing the work. You two did it at his dorm by the way. You probably won't remember a single detail of your first time with Haechan but you did remember giving a blowjob the first time and as he pulls you up so that you can switch position, you bump your head on the top bunk bed. There's definitely lots of laughter and playful slaps and punches that you two woke up bruised and with hickeys all over.

Na Jaemin

OH TRUST NA JAEMIN would give you the best first-time sex of your life. Really, when you told him that you're ready to have sex with him. His mind went blank for a minute, and as soon as he processed the information, he assures you that he'll take care of everything. LITERALLY, everything. Even though it's his first time, Jaemin wanted to make sure that you enjoy it more than he could. You two did it in his place. Set up a romantic vibe, (pulls up a sex playlist.) and was very gentle to you. He makes sure that you're feeling good, and you don't need to do the same as him. (you did, because you think it's unfair.) overall, just like Jeno, the sex was very vanilla but he gave you aftercare though. 

Zhong Chenle

Yes he is confident with everything, but I feel like deep inside Chenle would be panicking when you open up the topic about having sex with him. He's definitely assured you that he'll take care of you BUT he's definitely sweating inside. Sure, you two made out a hundred times but sex is a different thing, so he probably tried to look about it first ??? just make sure he has the right knowledge about it. Chenle would definitely try his best to lead everything, even though he's panicking if he's hurting you or making you feel good. The sex was fine, and as soon as you two finished, you two passed out because of how tiring sex can be. 

Park Jisung

Pray for the gods because Jisung is definitely doing it the moment you talked about having sex with him. When you open it up, you were actually shy about! You were stuttering and couldn't even look him in the eye. You two made-out a few times, and there were definitely a lot of touching too! So sex wouldn't be a problem, right? WRONG. You and Jisung are the most awkward one, really really shy with each other and did it with the lights off, with a small lampshade on a corner. Lots of "Is this okay?" with Jisung doing most of the action. After finishing you two just lay there for an hour and pondered about what just happened.  

[cpericardium]

So! I've gotten a host of messages and asks regarding recent disk horse and I wanted to address them as a collective. I know I have anon asks off, I won't share your URLs, but I do want to thank you for asking and clarifying some of the frankly vile things people have been saying about me, my girlfriend, and friends. I value those of you who offered your words of support, and didn't jump to believe screenshots taken out of context and lies written with the utmost confidence and none of the facts. I am a little tired of having my morals questioned and my views conflated with every single person I associate with, but there it goes.

Some questions and answers under the cut. Feel free to continue asking and I'll do my best to answer.

tumblr user cpericardium suspiciously silent on the subject of Gaza: does this mean you support ethnic cleansing???

My reticence when it comes to posting about topics like I/P is because:

-This is a fandom blog intended for lighter topics, except maybe the occasional vent about life stuff, which I usually hide under a cut. I don't have sideblogs. They seem tough to maintain and I don't post nearly enough to justify it. If I were to make one it would be for another fandom or maybe just the freakier bugs. I simply prefer my social media experience to be stress-free.

-Anti-slacktivism. It's a documented thing: posting about an issue makes you feel like you're doing something, you get that little shot of dopamine, so you don't actually go out and do something that effects meaningful change. I'm trying to do less of that. I'm good with the friends and people I follow who choose to post about it and this is a strictly personal belief, but when I engage in activism, it is offline or it is a donation. You're not going to hear about it.

But don't you reblog lgbt and women's rights posts?

Yeah, and that's usually when I want to save a post for one reason or another (e.g. to talk about with someone on discord later). The bottom line is that the main purpose of my blog is not to post political takes or to spread awareness of anything. It is just a collection of my interests (fan stuff, bugs) and hopefully a way to share those interests with like-minded people.

No.

I will state my views clearly for the record: I support Palestine. The ongoing genocide is heartbreaking and so is the violence against protestors. Additionally, I am against antisemitism and the harassment of Jewish people in the name of supporting Palestine. This shouldn't even need to be said.

Is your girlfriend a Zionist?

Does she support Zionists?

No.

Wasn't she in the military?

Yes, years ago.

But the military is evil?

It is. She's extremely hardcore anti-war, does not believe the US should even have an army, and actively PMs strangers on reddit to try to convince them to not make the same mistake. If they're dead set anyway, she gives them detailed advice on how to survive. Because she actually cares about the human cost of war, not the social clout gained from shunning or sneering at people who make wrongheaded choices. I have seen her doing this, seen her seeking to understand their reasons for joining so she can systematically explain—from personal experience!—why they're not going to get any of that out of the army. It is a hell of a lot more effective than bitching them out or writing callout posts or starting whisper campaigns about them. She cannot delete those years of her life no matter how much she regrets them. There is only forward. I think we can all agree on that.

But what about all those things she said. "I regret nothing, I have no qualms, VA nipple money etc."

Well you have to understand that while of generally upright character, she is a bit of a scamp. She believes she fundamentally should not have to explain herself to randos who do not know her, who have never, not once, interacted with her, who are clearly digging for dirt and will twist anything she says no matter how banal. People see what they want to see and they look for evidence to reinforce their preconceptions; they'll go so far as to make alts to join servers, cherry-pick screencaps, crop them, and conveniently fill in the rest of the narrative for curious onlookers. So she decided to exaggerate and amplify and twirl her mustache like a supervillain. Give them a show, as it were.

To be clear, I'm not sold on this strat because it makes her look cartoonishly evil to people who can't understand sarcasm and hyperbole. But her friends and I are aware of her actual beliefs and also that she did not in fact do those things people imagine she did. And isn't that what matters? Real-life harm? Do you even care?

Re: screenshots

She addresses them here.

[prof-peach]

It's me again, I'm throwing my two cents in and asking. What are your thoughts on the competitive side of Pokémon caring. or more accurately, Pokémon battles? Especially the gym challenge and the champions themselves? Have you ever tried the gym challange before prof?

While in my youth I did the gym challenges, it all seemed rather staged for me, and i quickly figured out that the gym circuit is built for children, by adults to instil some form of confidence and independance in the youngsters who partake. I swiftly lost interest before completing any of them, but I think my old badges are somewhere, probably rusty by now. The whole organised gym system region to region is a well funded training scheme. Youngsters travel around with pokemon to get to grips with their teams, their independence, and their skills. Gyms offer a challenge to those who never much dipped their toes into the battling world, and many don't partake or bother with it for a whole host of reasons that are all equally valid. It is not a necessity to be a great trainer, nor is it required if you simply dont wish to do it. For most, its a fun challenge, but it does hold relative weight when applying for some job types as an adult, as it proves you can independently shift around and complete a set of tasks of your own volition, using critical problem solving skills on the fly. It has a whole host of benefits, and if you enjoy it and your pokemon enjoy it, then its a great way to earn some cash and blow off some steam!

BUT, that being said, the gym circuit is a tame version of reality. It is a low level set of tasks built to help those not as confident or well versed in battles. Even the more difficult leaders and gyms are playing a role, and while they may have their pokemon trained to a skilled, practiced adults capacity, for the most part they dumb down the fights and make sure they arent impossible for opponents to face. It is meant to be a challenge, not a slaughter, so to speak.

In the real world, people dont always get this safe space to learn how to handle a battle, there is blood, there are injuries, there can be deaths, but in a gym trial, that is harshly reduced, and fatalities are rarely encountered thankfully. With this in mind, I do believe the gym trials are a vital part of some peoples journey, but once you get past them and interact with the real world, where bad guys arent pulling punches like gym leaders do, you realise that you partook in a system that was all soft edges.

the champions and various elietes you encounter are HEAVILY trained guides for peoples journeys, and while some have been dubious, perhaps they slipped through the net, or paid their way into the position, most do the job of training new generations well, and with great precision. It takes a lot to train pokemon to the level they do, and teach with every move. It's a good job, much like any educator, and provides ample reward to see trainers come and go all the more confident and prepared for the real world. The skills it takes to be a gym leader are quite high, as your pokemon have to know when to stop, and how to hit hard, but not TOO hard that you injure opponents. Its a fine line and they walk it well for the most part.

As for the higher tiers of the gym circuits, well, they prove somewhat challenging to anyone on this path, but they too are simply adults hired to do a job, should they show the right aptitude. they get paid, they go home, and most of the time it is simply another form of the education sector.

I personally dont care for it much, but i have a bias others do not, and if i step away from it, its very clear to see that the gyms and the challenges they pose have great benefits for many people and pokemon, and often they offer help and support during times of disaster, such as fires or influx of pests on crops, and the likes. It goes to show they teach people more than how to fight, Alola in particular has a very harmonious balance within its practices, encouraging trainers to do what they can to help the community, without harming too many mons in the process, and to think outside the box when problem solving. Some of the finest trainers come from alola, thanks to their highly adaptive teaching methods.

overall i'd say if you want to partake, go for it! its certainly a safe way to train, but it does not mean you wont be great with pokemon or in a battle if you dont. I certainly never finished them, i know many who never did a single one, and are fantastic trainers. It's a great aid, but not the only way to succeed. So long as you treat your team with care, you research before you get new partners, and you take into consideration their wants FIRST, as their guardians, then youre on the right track. I could go on, but overall everythin gi ever preach comes back to mutual consent and being honest and open with pokemon. They put their faith in us to help them and be their trainers, so we can only try to do our best. If they dont want to fight, pushing them is immoral.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I was reading your tweel analyses posts and came across the little blurb of Floyd and Jade eating octopus in front of Azul and seemingly relishing in it because it might unsettle him and they're little shits. their fave foods having octopus in them makes sense since it's part of a diet of moray eels

here's a question I don't see many asking: does Azul eat octopus dishes? I think everyone is aware that octopus can (and do) cannibalize each other (even self-cannibalize) but he is still an octopus merman. do you think the animal based mers like the octatrio view the animals they share similarities with as a completely separate species from them and therefore not care when eating them? or is it sort of like a human and big ape thing, where it is highly uncomfortable and generally frowned upon?

[Referencing this post!]

I think Azul refrains from eating octopus himself! The reasoning being that… well, it’s really a gut feeling that’s informed by my observations of the Octatrio’s interactions.

If he looked annoyed watching the twins eat octopus, then that indicates he feels a certain way in that scenario—a discomfort or irritation which would then extend to his own dietary habits. If Azul did eat octopus, then why should he take issue with his peers doing the same? If both moray eels and octopus dine on octopus, why would he only be distressed in one scenario and not the other? Why would Jade and Floyd go out of their way to eat tons of octopus in front of Azul and bring up mentions of how delicious his merform is, if not to tease and unnerve him?

I do think that merpeople view non-sentient sea creatures they share traits with as separate beings in the food chain. This is why the twins can eat regular ol’ octopus without an issue. However, I also think that eating a creature that is of the same “type” as you (ie Azul and an octopus) is seen as morally wrong, as they too closely resemble the merpeople in question. This would be similar to how humans are fine with eating cow, pig, and chicken, but are far less willing to consume primates. It’s the “human” part of them—of us—our consciouses calling out to us and letting us know “hey, rhis is wrong”.

Merpeople may be part man and part fish, but I believe they are mainly human with additional fish traits and attributes; their thinking and behaviors are still very human, so I feel they share some similarities with humans in their moral and ethical codes.

The difficulty with half human/half animal fantasy races is that there will always be the debate of how much their animalistic side plays into their behaviors and how much of that can be overridden by their human side. For example, just because Leona is a lion beastman doesn’t mean he can’t eat vegetables, he just does not like them. This is in spite of lions being carnivores (ie exclusively dining on meat). We also see (or it is implied) many merfolk and beastmen eating food that would harm or kill their non-sentient counterparts (such as candy and chocolates during Halloween; you’d think they would otherwise express repulsion if offered what is basically poison to them). The “beastial” TWST characters in general don’t seem too strict on their food intake (specialized diets for athletes aside), so my guess is that their intakes lean more toward the omnivorous intakes of humans rather than the diet prescribed by the animals that are a part of them. After all… if Azul ate octopus, bro would be nomming on his own arm or something (since auto-cannibalism is a thing among octopus) 😭

Imagine walking in on that though????? I’d say, “Sorry to disturb you, sir! I’ll see myself out now,” then slowly shut the door and back away…

[obscure-entity]

in a veeeery theoretical world where engagement has no incentive to be measured do you think social spaces on the internet would be more bearable if like counts and follower counts were never a thing. i cannot think of a reason off the top of my head as to why we need those. "big artist vs small artist" more like "guy at a screen vs guy at a screen." i also just really dislike the notion that having a number attached to you makes you "appear" more responsible

who knows i would probably still be limited in my interaction anyway bc i think my brain might be different. but the prospect of having heightened/dramatized influence even in like otherwise-insignificant gestures freaks me out

i never knew how to communicate it but i think especially younger ppl on the internet should be taught more to not idolize people. like yea you can be a fan of someone but that's different than having heightened expectations for them as a person

[transmutationisms]

Hi! I know this is potentially not really in your wheelhouse, but do you have any thoughts on the idea that ME/CFS, POTS, EDS, ADHD, autism, PMDD and MCAS tend to cluster? It's always felt possibly kind of spurious and psychiatry-pilled to me, and also like something that might have interesting clinical/cultural precedents, but I haven't been able to find much about it.

i don't think it's surprising at all that chronic illnesses 'cluster'---they're often poorly understood, diagnosed by exclusion, and characterised by overlapping symptoms. like there are probably some shared mechanisms going on that cause many of these conditions, or underlying causes in common. as it stands many chronic illnesses are basically descriptions of symptom clusters, meaning that what causes them or creates the dysfunction is unknown thus far, so it really shouldn't be surprising to see people whose symptoms suggest multiple of these diagnoses.

wjere like autism and ADHD are concerned i do think the connection is much more spurious. offhand i would posit that, rather than evidence of some kind of biological susceptibility of certain 'neurotypes', we might be seeing the physical toll of chronic stress for people dx'd with socially alienating disorders; people who are chronically ill being more likely to pick up psych diagnoses as a kind of collateral result of constant contact with the medical system; the alienation and stress of being chronically ill resulting in various kinds of social and functional difficulties that are dx'd as psych disorders; or the effects of, say, sleep disturbances related to chronic illness causing difficulties dx'd as psychological disorders, or vice versa. that's speculative on my part though.

also you do have to keep in mind where the data come from that show relationships between various diagnoses. as in like, what country with what degree of common access to healthcare and withwhat sorts of billing practices that interact in what way with diagnostic codes. like a diagnosis is often as much about creating an official record of some accommodation need (drugs, welfare eligibility, mobility aids, etc) as it is about any kind of transcendent medical truth. again, we're talking about conditions that are often under-studied and poorly understood and sometimes treated as a kind of dumping ground for 'mysterious' or 'difficult' patient presentations. so, observations of this nature should really be interpreted in general as indicating at least as much about how a given medical system functions as about how the human physiology works.

[jd-loves-fiction]

𝐎𝐩𝐢𝐚

n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable—their pupils glittering, bottomless and opaque—as if you were peering through a hole in the door of a house, able to tell that there’s someone standing there, but unable to tell if you’re looking in or looking out.

✦ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Sir Gawain x GN!Reader

✦ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut + fluff

✦ 𝐰𝐜: 2.2k

✦ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Minors DO NOT INTERACT thanks. also DONT USE SALIVA AS LUBE THIS IS THE MIDDLE AGES WAAAAHH

✦ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Anyway I havent written anything in a hot second, especially smut, so i might've lost my touch but this man makes me insane. Hope its still enjoyable anyway and im working on some fluffy stuff as well whoop enjoy :)

Stupid quest. Stupid forest. Stupid rainwater puddle.

You didn't see it – you were too damn busy staring into those gorgeous brown eyes of his, lashes lowered ever so slightly in a way so tender it might as well have been what knocked you over.

“Oh goodness.” Sir Gawain exhales a second after the splash, arms reaching for you a little too late. Turns out he’d been lost staring at you as well. “A-Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I–” You start to deny it but think better of it. It’s Gawain, he’d know the answer just from looking at you. “I’m cold. And wet. And tired.”

“I see. Let’s find ourselves a place for the night, yes? The storm from last night might be coming back.” He tells you, reaching out a large hand to pull you up. You take it without hesitation.

Quickly finding yourselves a damp and dingy little cave to pass the night in, Gawain gets to work starting a fire as you shiver uncontrollably. 

“You know–” He begins, fumbling with two rocks and a handful of dryish branches, looking up at you for a moment, “You look good, all soaking wet.”

The warmth of his gaze sweeps over your form, lingering on your shaking shoulders, passing by the water dripping off your linen shirt and how your arms curl around yourself to keep the heat in – heat he stokes with that cheeky look, the quickness of his breath, the biting of his lovely, soft, bottom lip…

A spark goes off, catching fire to the branches, cutting the tension like a hot knife over butter. But it does not dissipate, the fire does not cool, it merely wanes to a simmer.

“I bet you’d look even better.” You blurt out, just to get the last word in before sitting by the flames, not entirely aware of what you’ve just said and where his beautiful, hasty mind would take your words. Then again, you’re much more concerned with not freezing to death.

“Trying to warm up with wet clothes isn’t going to do you any good. It isn't going to do anything at all, really.”

“What do you suggest, then?” You sigh, knees tucked to your chest, sitting opposite the dashing young knight.

“You should take off whatever clothes are wet and let them dry by the fire.” He begins shrugging off his thick wooly cape to lay on the stone floor beside him, “And sit close to me – we can share body heat.” he adds on quickly, as if he hasn't made his intentions with you clear enough throughout this journey already.

You’re not sure when it started, when his dark eyes began wandering, when his touches started lingering, or even when you started doing the same. But it’s clear to the two of you; the want– the need too transparent to hide. 

There’s more to it though, for you at least. It would be almost too easy to dive into him otherwise. Like a nymph’s bewitching calls into murky waters.

But it could never be that easy. Not with the one they may one day call King. That and his womanizinging reputation.

Expecting anything other than a purely lustful encounter out of this would be foolish to say the least, but perhaps you are a fool. Because the way he looks at you; the way he has been looking at you since– whenever you started noticing; makes you feel as if there might be a chance. 

So you do as he suggests, stripping down to the basics under his unwavering gaze, shuffling over to his side and nuzzling against him.

Questions swirl endlessly within your mind while leaning on Gawain's warm body, his shirt so thin you could almost perfectly imagine what he'd look like without it in your mind's eye.

But then, those eyes, clear as spring water in their intentions, cage you in with their stare and suddenly you feel as if everything must be laid out plainly, “What are your intentions with me, Sir Gawain?”

The look on his face nearly makes you regret it, fearing you may have offended him, but surely he’s aware of his reputation – surely he must understand.

After a beat he exhales with a slight smile as his large hand comes around to your shoulder, “Are they not clear?”

“Clear as they may be, I like things to be absolutely transparent, especially when it comes to men of your… caliber.” He hums in acknowledgement with a smirk, before it slowly slides off his face, replaced with a thoughtful expression so rarely seen it could be possession.

“I understand what you mean, love. But, in truth, I cannot answer you as of yet.” At the inquisitive look you give him he begins trying to explain himself, “It is that… Well, I am to be King somewhat soon, I assume. So it would be reckless for me to act as carelessly as I once did. But then also, I do not yet know what my intentions are – beyond tonight, that is.” Your face warms slightly at his suggestive tone as his hand drifts down your naked back, “All I know, is that you intrigue me. Greatly. If anything, I know– I feel as if… once will not be enough…”

A dark hand of long, slender fingers lifts your chin to meet his fathomless stare, looking deep into your eyes and beyond that – to your vulnerable soul. 

“I feel… the same.” You speak, suddenly breathless as your face nears his subconsciously, giving in to his siren call.

Lips meeting like a spark to a fire, a beginning. His hands wander over you, reverent, gentle, as yours grasp at the front of his tunic, urging him as close as humanly possible – as if close isn't nearly close enough.

The kiss grows fiercer, a push and pull of soft pink muscles attempting to gain control, before being forced to part, open around heaving breaths while eyes grow hazy with lust– no, yearning. Gawain draws back to shed that bothersome tunic before his hands attach themselves to your hips to pull you onto his lap. The ease with which he does it has you grinding down instantly, hands running over sweat-slick caramel skin.

His dark curls bounce as he tosses his head back under your movements, desperate for some control of the primal urges suddenly overloading his brain – to fuck you without mercy, to ruin you for anyone else – but no, that’s not how he wants this to go.

“God above, you're beautiful.” He breathes, hands stilling your hips to let his eyes sweep over your features slowly. The intensity of his gaze makes you squirm and the strength in his hands warms your inside more than the fire ever could. 

Burying your face in his gorgeous, exposed neck you speak so low not even God could hear, “Shut up and take your pants off.”

You feel him smile against your hair, laying a kiss against it before drawing away to do as you ask, somewhat clumsily, but earnestly all the same. Sitting still on his cloak, you watch him avidly, eyes catching on every new inch of dawn-hued skin revealed.

The singularity of the moment strikes you suddenly; back at the castle, amongst duties and expectations, this would never be possible – this calm, this undemanding rhythm. You have no place to be, no one to meet, so you can just be. Together.

“Where did you go?” He whispers, caressing your face with a softness undeserving of a knight’s strength, making your eyes focus back on his features and immediately surge forward to connect your lips to his, “Nowhere important.”

Gentle as a breeze Gawain lays you back, body between your legs and arms beside your shoulders. His prominent nose brushes yours softly, sensually as he parts your legs even further, “Good. I want you here with me. For this will not be a moment you’ll want to ever forget.”

“Oh,” You chuckle teasingly, back arching almost subconsciously against his warm, wide chest while his hips start moving against yours, “You’re sure of that, are you?”

“Your reaction tells me all I need to be sure.” He replies, so cocksure you’re suddenly reminded of who he’d been before the Green Knight had showed up proposing a ridiculous game – knowing he hasn't changed completely is oddly comforting.

“You talk too much… Sir.” You grumble in lieu of remaining silent and further inflating his ego, getting a raised brow at the tacked-on title.

“But you like it, don't you? Don't lie to me, it's unbecoming.” The corners of his lovely lips twitching with the effort not to laugh. Quick as a flash, your legs lock around his waist, pulling his center down to yours and he’s forced to take a breath from between his teeth as his long lashes flutter, “Like I said; you talk too much.”

Gawain bites his tongue – there will be plenty of time to get back at you once you’re mindless and thoroughly spent – he reasons. For now, he just needs to get you there.

One large hand settles at the base of your throat as his luscious lips travel down your neck in flickers of contact that have you arching against his firm grip for more. Soft as a feather, he pulls away your undergarments as needed to kiss at your chest; sweetly at first and then so wet and sloppy you’re left gasping and whimpering, hands grasping at his strong shoulders for purchase.

Grabbing you below the knees, he gently pries your legs open while kissing down your body until you're tingling and trembling all over wishing he'd just get to it.

“Gawain…”

“Hmm? Are you going to beg? Go on.”

You pout petulantly; no you won't beg, he'd enjoy that far too much. But you can, however, tempt him into doing what you want.

“Gawain…” you moan seemingly helplessly, nails brushing his skin making him shiver in delight, “won't you take me? It's clear you want to.”

“It's clear, is it?” He chuckles breathlessly, ceasing completely to just watch you and it makes you want to smack the back of his head in frustration.

Breathing deep, your eyes move over him carefully, appreciating every inch of delicious, exposed skin so many yearn to catch a glimpse of before…

“Gawain,” you raise an amused brow, surely he noticed… “Yes?”

Oh, he's far too good at playing dumb.

You raise yourself until your lips barely brush his, brown hues watching you closely down the length of his nose before your hand boldly presses down on his stiff cock and those eyes glaze over before rolling back in overwhelming delight, “I'd call this pretty obvious.”

Hand squeezing in pulses, you're granted a low groan followed by a deep sigh, “God, you're too much. I cannot– wait.”

Gawain's mouth devours yours, hungry as a wolf, pushing down once more while his lithe fingers graze the inside of your thighs, grinning at what he finds. Cheeks warming at how your mouth chases his as he pulls back, he gives his palm a full lick before wrapping it around his throbbing cock and stroking. The flames illuminate this length of his gorgeous neck like an old painting and your tongue longs to glide over it and follow the path of his sweat so deeply you almost miss him speaking, “Will you beg now?”

You groan most crudely, far over his games and his perfect face and his disarming voice and his damned haughtiness– your hand grasps the curls at the back of his head, delighting in his whimpered response, “Take me now or so help me–,” your not proud of the way your voice wavers but you’re both past that now.

Gawain’s lips connect with yours surprisingly softly, leaning his forehead against yours and lining himself up with your center, “Shh, I’ve got you, just relax.”

A kiss to your hairline is the only warning you get before he starts pushing into you, slow as can be and yet still you cry out at the feeling in between the kisses he places to your lips to offer some comfort.

“There we go, breathe for me. It’ll feel better soon…”

“Gawain…” You moan, clinging onto him as the bite of initial pain melts into pleasure.

Sucking on your neck, his hips sway against yours rhythmically, wavering only when your nails dig into his sides while moaning desperately in his ear, “Gawain please…”

“Now–” his breathing stutters while his hips buck suddenly, pressing a collection of whispered curses from both of your mouths, “Now you beg?”

“Just please fuck me, please.”

The way his cock twitches inside you tells all you need to know on how he feels about your words.

Curls brush the side of your neck as he reaches to bite at your lobe, grunting and moaning into it while speeding up his hips so much your own moans become stuttered and desperate.

As the end nears, Gawain presses his lips to yours, nearly missing in his eagerness, and opens his mouth as if to say something but no words leave him, only a loud moan of your name ringing across the cave just as your body does the same.

Your mind is eerily quiet as you come down, blinking eyes you don't recall closing and feeling the next king breathe against your naked chest while gathering himself. After a moment he raises himself on shaky arms to gaze down at you, hand reaching to brush a stray hair from your cheek and sighing as if suddenly, all is right in the world.

[orange-orchard-system]

Hi, I would like you guys' input on something if you're comfortable

Is it bad/rude that as a singlet I want to be plural? I'm not trying to romantacize it or anything (heck I was hyperfixated on DID and did a lot of research on it for like a year straight), I understand probably better than most singlets the struggles, but I can't help feeling a soul-deep sense of longing just towards the idea in general

Probably influenced by the fact that I'm a lot more identity fluid than most singlets but yeah... I want to be plural so badly and I'm really conflicted cause isn't that like... Rude?

No, it is not rude at all. In fact, this is what drives some people to become plural!

See, plurality is something that can be achieved purposely through practices such as tulpamancy. Tulpamancy is the practice of creating other headmates, consciousnesses, or persons (the term used to explain the process differs depending on preference and text; the general term for these created beings is "tulpa(s)") to live alongside their creator in their body/mind. It can be done unintentionally, but if you want to become plural, then you'd probably be looking into resources for intentional tulpamancy. If this sounds like it interests you – whether that means you just want to learn more or you think you might want to create a tulpa – then I'd recommend some of @eeveecraft's resources on the subject. A masterpost of them can be found here, but I'd particularly recommend their Tulpamancy Guide and the FAQ for their guide. Although the tulpa community is not one-to-one connected with the wider plural community, tulpamancy is still recognized as a practice that can allow someone to become plural, typically through repeated interactions with an imagined entity until it begins to form its/their own autonomy and sense of self [and become real, or their own person]. The community also has a great number of resources for bettering communication between headmates, creating innerworlds, and the like.

However, before you jump into any practices like tulpamancy, I do want to let you know that what you describe is a very common experience for those who already are plural and just don't know it yet. Before discovering their plurality, many systems describe having an undescribable connection with the plural community or longing to be plural. Considering you mention having an especially fluid identity, perhaps this is an angle you should look into? It may be possible that your longing is something closer to subconscious recognition, or a desire to be open with yourself and others about plurality that you're suppressing. Maybe this isn't the case and you really are a singlet, but I see this often enough that it felt prudent to suggest it.

I recommend trying out some basic exercises, such as seeing how it feels to call yourself plural, tracking your identity and preferences for any patterns, and practicing talking to any headmates you might have, especially before you take that step of making a tulpa (assuming you're interested in doing so). Tulpamancy can be a delicate process, and it's better to go into it with an understanding of your mental situation (and if you have any pre-existing headmates) than not. (I mean, hey, who knows? Maybe you have some unintentionally created tulpas hanging around your head. Probably best to check before you go making another one, don't you think?)

But, again, even if you're not plural, wanting to be plural isn't rude. Some say it is, but, eh, I don't really agree. I don't think wanting to be plural is the same as erasing our struggles or romanticizing our disorders or whatever. Being plural can be a wonderful thing, and I don't blame anyone for wanting to partake in plural joy. The only thing to consider is that if you're looking to become a created system (a person or system that caused their own plurality), you need to make sure you're prepared and have enough time and patience to manage any hiccups that might come up. For instance, there might be identity confusion or conflicts in the early stages of headmate creation. Tulpamancy resources and spaces typically offer advice on these kinds of troubles, but it's good to go over them and make sure you know what you're getting into before you start. After all, even if a created headmate isn't the same as a baby, bringing someone into this world is still a big commitment. Make sure to make that commitment responsibly.

In short, no, wanting to be plural is not rude. It would be rude to claim our struggles aren't that bad or that a disorder like DID isn't that big of a deal, but wanting to be something that can bring positive change to someone's life is not. You might want to investigate the possibility that you're already plural, but even if you're not, I don't take wanting to be plural – in a way, wanting to be like me – as an insult. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, as they say!

[edoro]

Dunmeshi spoilers, talking about Thistle and Delgal

the more i think about it, the less i feel like the text of Dunmeshi really does support the interpretation that Delgal didn't love Thistle

like, yes, he absolutely did use Thistle, and displayed a clear sense of entitlement towards him - the baseline expectation that if he had a problem, Thistle could and would solve it, and then the idea that once he'd set Thistle to solve a problem he could just... turn that solution off when he felt like it ("we've been here a while now, isn't it time we left the dungeon?" <-words of a man who has not truly grasped what he asked for, what Thistle did to fulfill it, or what any of the repercussions of this are)

there's also an interesting thread of carelessness when it comes to his physical interactions with Thistle during high-emotion moments, like when he grabs onto Thistle by Eodio's sickbed or when he thumps Thistle on the back after Thistle summons monsters to kill their enemies and then brings that kid's dead dad back to life

it feels like he's a large dog who doesn't realize how big he is, or perhaps doesn't realize how small and delicate Thistle is, and perhaps at times is very aware of it and uses his size to intimidate/express his frustration

all of that aside, though, i think it's very clear that prior to Thistle becoming dungeon lord and tbh for a decent chunk of time at the beginning of his tenure as dungeon lord, Delgal had a very emotionally intimate relationship with him

i don't think you can sort them neatly into the categories of older vs younger sibling. they've both been both at different times, depending on how you measure it. Thistle is certainly older chronologically, and there was a chunk of Delgal's life - a very formative chunk, too - where Thistle was older, smarter, and stronger, where Thistle looked out for him and protected him and taught him things.

and then there were a few years where they were at the same developmental level... and then Delgal outgrew Thistle. he got bigger and older physically and he matured mentally past the point where Thistle was. not only that, but he became king, and while Thistle may have been raised alongside him like a brother, that doesn't make Thistle a prince - he was first and foremost a servant (and property) of the crown, even if his position meant he enjoyed a close relationship with the king, queen, and prince.

but that doesn't make Thistle necessarily the little brother - he is now, but it seems to me that there's still a part of him and Delgal that sees him as someone with the power to comfort and protect and teach, rather than someone who needs to be comforted and protected and taught

take the scene where Delgal says he's afraid of dying after his father was killed: that's an extremely tender, intimate, emotional scene. Delgal is crying while Thistle strokes his hair and promises to protect him. Delgal, the king, is being vulnerable in a way he absolutely cannot with most people, and Thistle sees his vulnerability and offers not only comfort but the promise of safety - don't worry, i'll make it better, i'll chase away the monsters under your bed, i won't let anything bad happen to you, i won't let anyone hurt you.

Delgal sees him as someone to seek that comfort from and Thistle sees himself as being in a position to give that comfort. he yearns for Delgal's attention and approval but also sees himself as Delgal's protector.

and then we have scenes like the one where Thistle resurrected that kid's dad, where he sees everyone staring at him in the aftermath of this bloody route and a bit of casual necromancy and realizes they're unsure, even scared of him, and it's Delgal who steps in and changes the mood by thumping Thistle on the back and praising him; Delgal who manages the crowd and keeps Thistle safe, setting the expectation for how everyone should react, lending his social cachet to Thistle in this moment to protect him from backlash

they go back and forth like this with each other, and i think it's one of the most interesting things about their relationship. no one else in Delgal's family has the same kind of relationship with Thistle. no one else knows him as well or loves him like Delgal does. no one else is close with him like that.

ultimately, i don't think you can look at the way he sought comfort from Thistle after his father's death and think that there isn't love and emotional intimacy there. the real tragedy is that Delgal always loved Thistle, but he never understood Thistle, and his inability to do so combined with his general passivity and avoidance played a big part in things getting as fucked up as they did.

[acewritesfics]

Kiss Already! | Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Request: No

Warnings: Unedited.

Word Count: 1,051

Stranger Things Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Y/N stands next to her car leaning back against the driver's door waiting for her younger brother to get out of his Dungeons and Dragons meet. She would usually wait in the car but with a slight headache, the fresh air was helping ease it a little.  

She looks at her watch hoping they’ll be walking out of the Hawkins High School building any minute now.  

When another ten minutes went by, she decided to go find her brother herself. She’s about to walk through the doors when they swing open, causing her to step back so she doesn’t get hit by them.  

“Y/N!” Dustin exclaims seeing his older sister.  

“I was coming to look for you.” She tells him.  

“Sorry about taking longer than usual, Eddie wanted to talk to me about something,” he says, explaining why he was later than usual.  

“Everything okay?” she asks, her heart lightly fluttering at the mention of the young man’s name.  

“Yeah,” he answers with a slight nod of his head “we should get home before mom starts to worry.”  

She agrees and follows him back to her car. She was about to get back into the rundown car when she heard her name called. She looks towards where the voice came from and sees Eddie. A light blush covers her cheeks.  

“Hi Eddie,” she greets the soon to be 20-year-old as he reaches her. Y/N had done senior year last year with Eddie. Back then she had thought he was cute, and he intimidated her in a way. She heard the rumors and the name calling but chose to ignore it. She hadn’t really interacted with him since they didn’t run in the same social circles or have many classes together so she couldn’t really form her own opinions on the kid everyone called a freak.  

But now her brother was a freshman, and it didn’t surprise you that he had joined Eddie’s D&D group, the Hellfire Club. She was happy that he did too. It was a good distraction for the young teen who seemed to really look up to their infamous Dungeon Master. Dustin needs more positive older male role models in his life. There was only so much her and their mom could do.  

It also gives Y/N a good excuse to finally get to know Eddie outside of school. She’s found she likes him more than she thought he would. She finds him naturally charismatic and charming. He was rough around the edges but with a soft and kind heart. He was unapologetically himself and she admires that about him. The first real conversation they had, he had her laughing and feeling at ease within five minutes.  

Over the last three months she has developed a crush on him. She had graduated six months ago but she was feeling like she was back in middle, blushing, her heart fluttering and butterflies in her stomach every time she thinks about the man now standing in front of her. She felt silly now being an adult with a schoolgirl crush on her brother's dungeon master.  

But what she doesn’t know was that Eddie Munson feels the same about her but his crush started the moment she walked into his English class last year, wearing tight high waisted jeans that hugged her body perfectly, her favourite black Metallica shirt, a silver cross hanging from neck, a cluster of bracelets on her left wrist and a signet ring on her right hand. She also wore headphones over her ears, listening to whatever cassette she had in her Walkman. For Eddie it was love at first sight. But he could never bring himself to make a move on her, fearing that she would reject him and that she thought the same as everyone else about him. So, he spent a year pining after a girl he thought was way out of his league.  

Until Dustin Henderson started his freshman year at Hawkins High. He had recruited the young teen and his friends, seeing the potential in them for his D&D campaigns. It was a bonus when he found out Dustin is Y/N’s younger brother. He used this to his advantage to get to know more about Y/N and build some kind of relationship with her. It was also no secret between the club that Eddie is completely smitten with her, despite Dustin’s objections at the start of their unconventional friendship.  

“Hi,” Eddie breathes taking the young woman in. He can’t help the grin that graces his lips as he notices the shirt she’s wearing. It was the Metallica one he’d seen her in the first time he had noticed her. His big deep brown eyes move from her shirt back up to her face, connecting with her Y/E/C eyes. Both suddenly felt nervous. “Uh… so, my band has a… uh, has a gig on Tuesday night, at The Hideout. I was wondering if you, if you would like to come. It’s not much of a gig really since our audience is 5 drunks and a bar tender or two. If you don’t want to come-”  

“I would love to,” she cuts off his rambling, her heart thumping against her chest. She feels as though she’s dreaming.  

“Yeah?” He asked, surprised she’d agreed to come.  

She nods. “Yeah, absolutely.”  

“Great!” He cheers. “I’ll pick you up at 6 and maybe we can get something to eat before it.”  

“Sounds amazing,” she smiles at his excitement, feeling equally excited with a bit of nervousness.  

“Jesus Christ, would you two just kiss already!” Dustin yells over the roof of the car looking between his new friend and sister annoyed and unimpressed.  

“Get in the car!” Y/N shouts back, sending the younger Henderson a glare, her cheeks once again burning red. Dustin flips her off before climbing into the car.  

“So, I’ll see you Tuesday night?” Eddie smirks, his confidence returning fully.  

“Can’t wait,” she finds herself smiling again.  

Finding the courage, Eddie leans in pressing a kiss to her cheek surprising her. “Enjoy the rest of your night, Sweetheart.”  

With that Eddie walks away to his van, leaving her stunned until she hears Dustin yelling at her to hurry up.  

Getting into her car, she pushes the key into the ignition and starts the drive home. 

[animeyanderelover]

Can I request Fyodor, Jōno, Sigma, Tetchō, Yuki, and Kyo with a darling that enjoys solidarity? Pls and thank you❤️

Glad that I asked you before publishing this. For everyone’s information, it was meant to say that the darling enjoys solitude.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, manipulation, abduction, isolation

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78 @flaming-vulpix

Darling enjoys solitude

Fyodor Dostoevsky

🍎​Everything in life has its good and its bad aspects about it and the same concept applies to your preferences for solitude. On the positive side, it is quite delightful to have you already self-isolating all by yourself as Fyodor can keep very easily an eye out for you. But where is the fun? He is a terrible person who believes himself to do God's work yet the diabolical things he does surpass even the deesd committed by the devil himself. Fyodor sees it as a necessity to break you and shape you into someone new and he can't help but think that it might be less amusing to watch your life crumbling away as you prefer your solitude over the company of other people. Nevertheless, if you should be someone who is less prone to show your feelings very easily, he sees it more as a challenge than anything else to see how far he must go to finally shatter you to your core. It is a sick and twisted way of thinking but it is a deed that has to be done. After all you deserve all the suffering he is about to unleash on you.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️​Your preference to spend time alone is much appreciated and welcomed by Jouno who has always been far too possessive to let other people close to you. Whenever he seeks you out, he finds you most of the time alone and enjoys the fact that he can have your attention and company all for himself most of the time. Although it does increase his spite for the people you do actually keep close as he knows that they are very special to you if you bother to hang out with them. You are a fairly calm and composed person who enjoys their quietness and that is reflected in the relaxed composition of your heartbeat. As someone who can pick up on the emotions of others easily due to his enhanced senses, this only aids further in Saigiku's obsession as your emotions don't overwhelm him. Although similar to Fyodor he still has a sadistic streak and sometimes might try to trigger your emotions to go haywire to satiate his own desire. Your racing heartbeat is lovely to listen to at times after all.

Suehiro Tetchou

🌸​Tetchou is fairly normal for someone who has an unhealthy obsession going on but if you compare him to people like Saigiku, it should be no surprise. On the other hand he is quite dense at times and may make wrong assumptions which is unfortunately what happens in your case. He assumes that your preference to be alone is because you have social anxiety, even if that may simply not be the case. Growing from this hasty assumption of his, he grows more protective over you to the point where he actually ends up isolating you even if you want to spend time with others. Convinced that he is doing you a favor, he ends up taking over every social interaction of yours as you aren't even allowed to order something from the staff in a restaurant as he instead insists on doing so for you. It may not look like much but it can very much turn into a smothering overprotective behavior where your social skills drastically reduce themselves due to the social isolation he puts you through.

Sigma

☁️​You give him almost constantly anxiety due to your withdrawn personality which has him actively struggling out of fear that you'd be annoyed if he would attempt to talk with you. He doesn't want you to direct any negative feelings his way as he is much too sensitive for that so instead Sigma starts stalking and spying on you to collect as much information about you as possible. Knowledge is a weapon after all and he hopes that by finding out more about you, he can find a suitable way to approach you without getting on your nerves. He is most likely overthinking it all yet it's not like someone could just explain this to him. He does learn to appreciate it more later on as he can spend all of his time alone with you without having to worry about you expressing unhappiness about the isolation due to your preference os being alone. As foolish as it may be, he even has high hopes that you will forgive him the abduction he is currently planning as you have never been a fan of being under people to begin with.

Sohma Yuki

🐭​Yuki has been admiring you from a distance for a long time yet for multiple reasons he has never approached you before. Sometimes he wonders if you are someone like him though as he often sees you all by yourself, not bothering to mingle with other students. He wishes to talk with you yet his low self-confidence and his popularity have always kept him from doing so. When he eventually gathers the courage to seek you out and start a conversation with you, he only finds himself falling more for you. He feels comfortable and safe in your presence and the fact that most of the time you are by yourself only aids his secretly possessive side as he claims that time alone he has with you. Yuki quickly learns where he can find you when he feels the need to see you and sees it through that no one follows him so that no one can disturb the time he wants to have with you for himself. Things take a bad turn when he finds himself dependent on you though whenever he feels anxious or very stressed, leading him to suffer from a mental breakdown when he can't find you anywhere.

Sohma Kyo

🐈​Kyo may not show it but he feels initially worried when he catches you most of the time away from others, instead sitting all by yourself. He wonders if people don't like you or if you are very anxious yet he soon comes to realise that you just simply prefer to be by yourself. It does give him relief to know that he has nothing to worry about yet it also makes it more difficult to approach you, even though he has sworn to not get to know you due to the deal he made with Akito. The heart does what it wants though and so he finds himself commonly hiding from your sight as he watches how you spend time by yourself, reading a book or doing some work for school. It isn't enough to quench the longing in his heart yet he reminds himself that staying away from you is for the best. Kyo is very protective though and whenever he overhears someone calling you weird for always being alone, he reacts defensive and brash as he lashes out on the students for talking about you like this.

[immeasurable-depths]

Dorian isn’t sure how long they’ve been travelling for. Dusk had bled into nightfall, and they had continued their trek. Even daybreak hadn’t slowed them down, the watery yellow light cresting over the mountain peaks and igniting the path in front of them. Still they had walked, too exhausted and too broken to really think about anything else; just letting their broken bodies stumble on, on, guided by Opal’s final compulsion to send them away. Away from the fight; away from her; away from the bodies littered on the forest floor, spider and humanoid, the blood leaching into the ground to become an indelible part of the detritus beneath the trees.

One body, in particular.

Dorian doesn’t want to think about it too much - to think about anything, too much. Instead, he focuses on one foot in front of the other, hauling his aching legs up the mountain path in front of him, feeling the fatigue burning through his muscles. This way is easier. Easier than - well, he’s trying not to think about that.

Dariax treads beside him. They haven’t said anything to each other, not since the fight. Dariax seems lost in his own thoughts, only occasionally shooting a worried, sideways glance at his companion. But he doesn’t seem to know how to start a conversation, and Dorian doesn’t have anything to say.

***

Sooo I sat down and wrote this in a blind fugue state this afternoon, it’s super rough and unedited but I might turn it into something more substantial later possibly? Idk I’ve never written these characters before but I felt spurred by the response to my last post (thank you everyone that interacted with it ily ❤️). Anyway, more angst below the cut…

So, they walk.

It’s late afternoon when Opal’s spell wears off. They have been lurching forward relentlessly for a day now, almost delirious from lack of sleep and from trying to crush the swell of grief and loss that swirls deep in Dorian’s stomach. When it fades, there is no flash of magic energy; no rush of sound or light or spider’s webs that signal the termination of her suggestion. Just a creeping emptiness that unfurls inside Dorian’s chest, as the drive to just walk away leaches out of him slowly. Another thing that slips away, silently and irretrievably, from him.

He sees that Dariax feels it, too. Or rather, notices the lack of feeling. Both of their steps falter, progress petering out to a halt. The crashing realisation of why they have been so determined to put distance between themselves and that desecrated patch of forest engulfs them.

Suddenly Dorian’s limbs are like lead, as the total exhaustion floods through every part of his body. He looks over at Dariax, who smiles wearily as they make eye contact for the first time in hours.

“Well. Guess Opal knew what she was doing, huh?” he chuckles, and even with the heavy bags under his eyes, they still crinkle at the corners with genuine warmth.

“I hope she didn’t,” Dorian whispers quietly. He looks away, unable to meet Dariax’s piercing, earnest stare.

“Oh. You’re right. Shit,” Dariax curses, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just meant… heh, it doesn’t matter.” He trails off. Dorian shrugs, too tired to offer anything else.

Dariax shuffles uncomfortably, before flopping down onto the floor and opening his pack.

“We should eat,” he mumbles, already pulling strips of dried meat and stale bread out and offering them to Dorian.

Dorian can’t help but smile at this. Even in times like this, Dariax doesn’t overcomplicate things. The world might be ending - maybe it already has, for Dorian - but they’re still alive and their broken bodies still need sustenance. He shoots a warm - if slightly exasperated - look at Dariax, and sits on the ground next to him.

He places his palms flat on the floor, digs his fingertips into the damp moss and clenches tight. The ground is cool, and smells a little like mould. A few small insects crawl away from his touch - not spiders, he can’t help but notice, and feel relief.

The ground feels the same as it always did. The sky still shines with the same thin yellow light that tries to fight through the canopy cover. And his friend Dariax is the same as ever, humming a quiet tune to himself as he uses his molars to bite into a piece of overly tough jerky.

But how could this be the same world? A world without his brother in it doesn’t make sense. Though it feels the same on the surface, it is a shadow of what it was before - a grim, dark reflection.

He’s trying not to think about it.

He blinks, hard, and when he opens his eyes again, Dariax is holding out his hand, brandishing an improvised plate in the form of the back of his shield, loaded with crumbling bread and hard cheese and dried meat.

He nods, too overwhelmed to risk opening his mouth to thank him with words, and takes the plate.

He eats.

A few more words are exchanged: now free from Opal’s spell, they have to decide what their next steps are. Where to go. What their purpose is, now that the Crownkeepers have fractured.

Zephrah.

Zephrah seems like the next logical step. They had been aiming for there before… before all of this. Zephrah means some sense of safety, removed as it is from the main civilisations of Tal Dorei; Dorian is relatively confident the reach of Poska and The Nameless Ones wouldn’t extend there, from what Orym had told them about his hometown.

Orym.

Zephrah means the possibility of some connection with - maybe even a reunion with - Orym.

He is trying not to think about that too much, either.

Because how can he let Orym see him like this? How can he bear to face his friend, to tell him that the Crownkeepers were sundered on his watch, that Opal is lost and Fy’Ra is following her to the untimely end of the universe? That without them he is lost, floating aimlessly in the winds without direction? That his brother is dead, and the world doesn’t seem to make sense anymore and every nerve in his body burns with the fiery need for revenge?

“I’ve heard it’s real pretty, Zephrah.” Dariax’s voice pulls Dorian back into his body. The dwarf claps him companionably on the shoulder. “We’ll get cleaned up there, and then we can figure out where to go next. Right, buddy?” He offers a callused hand to Dorian, and Dorian lets himself be pulled to his feet.

Zephrah. He can make it that far. And what comes after doesn’t matter anymore.

[another-lost-mc]

What are your ocs + Michael's first impressions on mc? 😋

Hmm, I wonder. 😋 I'll throw these behind a Read More link because the post got a little long. Michael's part is a very short overview of a WIP in my drafts that's literally MC's first visit to the Celestial Realm and how he copes with it. lol

AZRA

His initial interest in MC is mostly superficial at first: their appearance, how MC reacts to his casual flirtations, whether MC tries to flirt back...

He knows that seducing the human exchange student is at the top of the list of things he probably shouldn’t do, but he just can't help himself.

(He’s also eager for literally any excuse to get on Lucifer’s nerves.)

His behaviour and feelings for MC change quickly when he actually spends time talking to them. It's not long before he's absolutely smitten.

ZEE

He doesn't really care about exchange program or its participants, but since it's his job, certain considerations have to be made: what sorts of food or drinks should the club add to the menu, is there anything unsafe for humans they should remove, do they need to hire more security staff while the exchange program runs?

As much as Zee doesn’t want to think about the angels either, any of the exchange students getting hurt at the club would be a disaster. The last thing he needs is Diavolo or worse, Barbatos, getting involved if something happened to the exchange students on club property.

He observes MC the first time they follow the demon brothers to the club. Based on how neglectful they are of MC’s safety and well-being, Zee takes it upon himself to ensure the human remains intact.

He tells himself that whatever happens to MC outside the club isn’t any of their business, but that changes quickly when he realizes MC is even more vulnerable once they leave and that could pose problems too.

KARASU

His primary assignment is analyzing how the exchange students use Devildom technology and how it can be improved.

MC's safety is also a concern, but he hopes knows Mammon is keeping an eye on them so he spends the first week focused primarily on the residents of Purgatory Hall.

Luke spends a lot of time researching demons and demon-like behaviour; his top searches are things like What to do if a demon… or Why are demons so…

Simeon is a technological nightmare that Karasu was not anticipating, and he needs a lot more personalized attention.

When Karasu finally interacts with MC on a more personal level - first through the AI, and then from his own device later as himself - he gets utterly swept away by the prospect of friendship.

TENEBRIS

He knows about the exchange program long before it starts - Diavolo could hardly contain his excitement for this next big step of RAD’s legacy.

Tenebris meets MC completely by accident, and he wasn’t very polite about it, but in his defense he had more important things on his mind at the time.

(He does recall seeing MC’s picture printed in the school’s newspaper later and hopes that he didn’t hurt or scare them too badly.)

If Tenebris suddenly agrees to come to RAD - as a student, of course - he tells anyone who asks that he’s simply curious about it. (It has nothing to do with protecting certain humans from ill-intentioned demons or good-for-nothing sorcerers.)

His watchful eye and cautious friendship with MC doesn’t go unnoticed.

METATRON

He's so excited to have a new human to talk to (that isn't Solomon) that he has to be reminded more than once not to overwhelm them.

He's genuinely curious about MC's life, where they're from and their family and friends and the types of hobbies they like and their interests.

Most of the angels are welcoming, but Meta is like a ray of sunshine that eagerly shows MC all the places in the Celestial Realm he thinks they'd enjoy: the library, his favourite dining hall, the gardens with the nicest flowers and the nicest lake if they want to go swimming.

Of course, he can't monopolize all of MC's free time - and when he eats dinner alone for the first time in nearly a week since their arrival, he realizes he already misses them, just a little bit.

MICHAEL

His feelings about MC and their arrival in the Celestial Realm are...complicated.

He's excited to finally meet them in person, and he's happy that they're as delightful as Luke and Simeon would lead him to believe.

But there's that uncomfortable feeling deep in his heart that he tries to ignore: jealousy, because MC has what he lost. He doesn't blame MC for being themselves, nor does he blame his fallen brothers for growing attached to the human that's helped them with so much. Still, emotions aren't always logical and for a time, it's difficult.

Thankfully, the more time he spends with MC, that jealousy and resentment fades. He appreciates their whimsical nature and kind heart, and he finally understands how a mere human could become as special to Lucifer as he once was.

It's only when MC prepares to leave back to the Devildom, that Michael realizes that he was powerless to resist them as the others were.

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