#mildly traumatic thank you

[doreensladle]

very deeply horrifying character, thank you lisa gilroy

[lionar0und]

Dada! - Leona fic

Leona has some conflicted feelings about his baby This is mostly my late night rambling

Warnings - Fem reader Kinda, mostly leona and cub centered, Small doses of traumatized Leona

Special thanks to @queen-shiba for all her help. Thanks Bestie!

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Leona loves his sleep. It's a known fact that he almost loves sleep more than he loves his wife.

Almost. He certainly loves her enough for-

"Dada!"

There she is. Leona has...conflicted feelings about being a father. His wife wanted a cub, so they had a cub. He wanted to continue his legacy anyway...but Seven, he's struggling.

It was fine at first - mildly unnerving, but fine. You were struggling, and he hated it. But you wanted Melody so badly. He can't ignore the adrenaline rush he felt when he first felt his cub kicking; or the jolts of joy whenever he held you, arms around you and holding your belly.

But now that she's here?

She's beautiful. She's everything he never thought he could love that he would live for. He'd die for her to but dying is just sleep to him...and sleep is easy. It's numb and comfortable. But living? Waking from bliss to feed his tiny mewling cub as she wails, face red and tiny fists shaking is hard. Giving up some of his late nights out, facing the embarrassment of her sobbing at royal functions; all those judging eyes watching?

Yeah. That's rough.

Really rough.

Today's rough too - He only just got back from another Spelldrive practice, and now that hes a pro, his energy has to be up to play!

But duty calls.

"DADA!"

"Oi, don't shout at baba," He grumbles weakly, "It's late, nugget."

"I want hair." She huffs. For a second his heart stirs. She has your eyes.

"You have hair. See? It's right here." He tapped her head...and it started again. The instant panic because what if his nails are too sharp? What if he hurt her?

He represses the urge to throw up when remembering the feeling of his own parent's claws raking over his eye.

"No dada. Your hair. Pretty!"

"My hair? Baby, what-" He is cut off by a sharp tug on his hair.

Oh.

"You want locs?" It's more of a surprised gruff squeak than anything else. "You want your hair to look like mine?"

"Yes!" She squeals excitedly, hopping on the bed with him. "Hair like yours!"

Shit. Shit, he doesn't do his own hair! He's a prince, he has a stylist-

"Dada?"

Damn it...look at that sweet face. Funny, he didn't realize Melody had his grumpy face.

"Alright, come here grumpy cat." He quickly grabbed his phone. "Kifaji? Yeah...bring me all that hair stuff my stylist uses and my tablet stand."

===========================================

As Leona works diligently, he silently notes to raise his stylists salary.

Melody is squirmy after a while...but luckily his baby girl is just as nerdy as him. Nothing a chess tournament on TV can't fix. Besides, hes a good multitasker! He watches the how-to video on his Ipad while carefully doing his precious cub's hair and violently judging the shitty chess plays.

How many more clips does he need? This kid has a lot more hair than he thought...

"Almost done?"

"Almost baby." He grumbles, trying to pick up the clip he dropped.

Sevens, his hands are sore! Twisting Melody's hair lovingly yet firmly, he feels that familiar bubble of annoyance. Why can't the royal stylist just do this instead?

Stop it, Leona. He thinks bitterly. Be the dad you wanted. Suck up being tired! You overblotted and still played spelldrive after! This is for your cub!

But it's been over an hour. And he is so, so tired. And he has practice tomorrow.

And his baby girl wants to be just like him.

He tries to ignore the weird feeling in his throat he gets when those doubts creep in again.

Come on man. Just a bit longer.

====================================

Almost two hours later, he's done. He's oddly proud of himself. And his reward?

He gets to go deaf!

Melody is squealing in glee now, running around with her tiny mirror.

"I look just like dada!" The tired dad hears her screaming down the hall. It's making him feel oddly smug, too. He actually did it.

Finally, he can reap his rewards. Snuggled tightly into his bed and using your maternity pillow he stole , he can finally sleep.

"DADA I WANNA PLAY DOLLS!"

...but for his baby girl, maybe sleep can wait until tomorrow.

[futuremrsreid]

Redemption (S.R.)

Summary: When Spencer risks his life on a case and doesn't want to see how dangerous it was, reader tries to talk some sense into him. It results in a lot of yelling and some other things.

A/N: So..... smutty angst, as promised <3 I hurt myself while writing this. Enjoy.

Content Warning: Smut (18+), very very mildly dubious consent, a bit of dark Spencer but he's just traumatized, angst, sad, dominant Spencer, kinda sub reader

Word Count: 4,1k

I was pissed. Actually, pissed didn’t even begin to describe the rage I felt at that moment. 

We were currently in Florida, hunting another psychopathic bastard as always. Everything was fine and under control, up until the moment Dr. Spencer fucking Reid decided it would be a good idea to drive to the unsubs location alone because he was “closest to him” and because we “didn’t have time” and nearly got himself killed in the process. Luke and I had arrived just in time to prevent disaster, but Spencer still got a few bruises on his face. 

I was furious and let him feel it by yelling at him while he was getting checked out in the ambulance. But like always, my yelling resulted in his yelling. We went at it for a couple of minutes but Emily put a stop to it before it got really bad, concerned about the reporters at the scene who already started to take a few pictures of us.

:keep reading:

We didn’t talk or look at each other for the rest of the case. Emily let Spencer get away with it because everything turned out fine, but I was not feeling gracious. 

When Garcia informed us that there was a storm that would delay our flight for the next couple of hours, Emily decided that we should just spend another night in the city and fly back in the morning. We all drove back to the hotel and when we arrived, I was on Spencer's heels all the way from the car to his room. He didn’t even try to stop me, he knew there was no point to it.

“That was so fucking irresponsible, Spencer! What were you thinking”, I started to yell as soon as I had closed the door behind me. I wanted to say “stupid” instead of “irresponsible” but decided against it. I wanted him to understand that he can’t do shit like this, and not insult him.

“It worked out fine, y/n. I don’t understand why you’re getting yourself worked up over this!” He rubbed his hand over the side of his face, clearly done listening to me.

“It only worked out fine because Luke broke like every rule you can break in traffic to get to the scene as fast as possible!”

“Oh right, Luke, my hero. I should go thank him, don’t you think?” he chuckled humorlessly and rolled his eyes.

“Maybe! He’s the reason you’re not dead.” I tried lowering my voice. This wasn’t our first fight, and I have learned in the past that screaming won’t help.

“I would have been fine! I had it under control, y/n. God, just leave me alone”, he spat and I felt a stabbing in my chest at the way he didn’t want to see how much danger he put himself in.

This wasn’t the first time he risked his life like that and I hated it. All of us hated it. Spencer seemed drawn to dangerous situations, it had been that way when I joined the team and from stories the others told me, it had been this way before that.

When I met Spencer, he was freshly out of Prison. They hired me together with Matt after Agent Walker died. The first time I saw him, I knew I had to befriend him. What I didn’t know was how easy it would be and how much easier it would be to fall in love with him. 

I tried to push it down, to get rid of it, scared that it would ruin everything, but there was no way of falling out of love with him, which made the situation even harder. Spencer didn’t seem to realize how much he hurt me whenever he risked his life like this. I wasn’t even sure he realized how much I cared about him. 

“I’m not going to leave until you admit that you were wrong.” 

“Well, this is going to be a long night then, because that’s never gonna happen.” He turned and walked away from me, removing his suit jacket and draping it over one of the chairs in his room. I sighed.

“Spencer, you need to stop risking your life like this. You're gonna get yourself killed”, I pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears. I tried to get him to look at me, but he avoided my eyes. “Please. I can’t lose you and especially not like that.”

“The day will come when you and the rest of the team realize that this is exactly the way it is supposed to end for me. Dying in the field would be an honorable death. It’s the only redemption I will ever get.” 

“What?”, I breathed and my heart stopped for a moment, “What do you mean, Spencer?”

“I meant what I said.” 

“Redemption? What redemption, Spence? You don’t need any, you haven’t done anything wrong.” I was confused and hurt by the way he said it. It sounded almost suicidal. 

“Yes, I have. I have done horrible things in my life, y/n. I will never be able to make up for them.” 

“You don’t have to! Everyone makes mistakes. You are a good person Spencer. You’re kind and gentle, you saved hundreds of lives in your career, you don’t need to make up for anything.” I tried to get through to him, but it was like I was hitting a wall.

“Prison changed me, it turned me into a different man. I’m not nearly as gentle or kind as I used to be.”

“I don’t know you any other way. I almost can’t imagine you being even more gentle than you are now. I don’t think anyone can be.”

“I was though”, he countered almost immediately, still unable to look at me, “I think you would have liked the man I was. He was gentler, kinder, and more deserving of you than I could ever be now.” He didn’t even sound sad when he said it, almost like he had accepted his truth from the moment he met me. 

“You know, you talk about yourself like you are the worst man in the world”, I said in an accusatory tone.

“Am I not?”, Spencer scoffed, raising his voice slightly while going on, “We hunt terrible men every day but in the end, how different am I from them? What makes me a good man and them a bad one, y/n?” He was almost yelling now, stunning me for a moment too long. When I didn’t reply, he turned to finally look at me. “Tell me y/n, what is it about me that convinces you I’m not every bit as bad as them?” The desperate look on his face made me take a step toward him but for every step I took, he stepped two back.

“Spencer, I-” My voice faltered and I didn’t know what to say. I knew he wasn’t anything like them but I wasn’t able to find any words that would convince him. When my mouth stayed open but no words left it, he took my silence as an invitation to go on.

“I almost killed Cat Adams, did JJ ever tell you that?” He spat, walking over to me and pushing me back until I hit the wall. 

“I put my hands around her throat and choked her until she was clawing at my wrists. And I didn’t stop then”, he moved even closer to me and I was unable to move away, the words leaving his mouth freezing me into place, “I told her that I was going to kill her and I meant it. I would have strangled her if JJ hadn’t pulled me off her.” He moved even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Her eyes were filled with fear, and you know what? I enjoyed it, y/n. I loved the way I scared her, the way she struggled for her life against me.”

He leaned in and I felt his breath ghost over my ear when he said the last words of his cruel monologue. “So tell me, y/n. Tell me how different I am from those men.”

He stayed where he was, his hands at his side and his mouth grazing my ear. He was trying to intimidate me with his speech and to be honest, he would have convinced me if it hadn’t been for the way his nose brushed against my hair, inhaling my scent like he was convinced this was the last chance he ever had to commit it to memory. 

“You can’t scare me with your words, Spencer. If you want me to believe how terrible of a person you are, you’re gonna have to show me because I will never believe it otherwise.” He probably calculated every possible outcome of this situation, but when he pulled back to look at me, I knew that he didn’t expect me to respond like this.

“Cat Adams is a monster who had you tortured and assaulted. She kidnapped your mother. Do you really expect me to feel bad for her? I never even met her. If you want to scare me away, you’re gonna have to do better than that.” 

There was a long moment of silence where we just watched each other. I thought I managed to break through to him for a second, but Spencer was on a mission to make me despise him, and he was determined to make it happen. His eyes darkened and he straightened up, towering over me.

I felt a sliver of doubt about my faith in him at that moment and he must have seen it cross my eyes because when I lifted a hand to push him back, he harshly grabbed my wrist and spun me around, using his body to push me against the wall. My arm was twisted behind my back and when I started to struggle out of pure instinct he took my other wrist in his hand and held both my arms behind my back, resulting in me being pushed more into the hard surface, my cheek flush against the wall.

When the shock had left me, I opened my mouth to ask him what the fuck he was doing, but Spencer was faster than me. He took his other hand and held it over my mouth.

“Do you believe me now?”, he whispered in my ear and I felt my pulse quickening. “You are so fucking naive y/n and honestly, you’re a little stupid too. What the fuck makes you think I would never hurt you, huh? You don’t know me.” 

It was those last words that took me back to reality because I did know him. I knew the way he brought everyone on the team their favorite food when they were sad. I knew the way his voice got an octave higher when he started talking about something that excited him. 

I knew the way he recited his favorite poems when I struggled to go to sleep after a tough case.

He won't hurt me. 

He would never hurt me.

He would never do something like this.

So, against every instinct in my body, I tried to calm my heart down and closed my eyes. I tried to speak but his hand on my mouth didn’t let me so I jerked my head back and stunned him with my sudden movement long enough to say a few words I knew he definitely didn't want to hear.

“You are all talk Spencer Reid. You would never hurt me and we both know that”, my voice was louder than I had expected and I felt his hand tighten around my wrists, “You can push me against the wall and insult me and tell me the terrible things you could do to me all you want but we both know that you would never lay a hand on me without my permission and you would never hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.”

His hand loosened and I used this opportunity to free myself of his grip and turn around. He was angry that his plan didn’t work and I saw his hands twitch with restraint, but I wasn’t scared of him. 

He had just proved to me that he was the man I knew he was.

“You’re not an abuser, you’re not a rapist-”

“Shut up.”

“- and you’re not a murderer. That’s what makes you different Spencer.”

“I said shut up!”, he yelled and I did the only thing I knew to do in response to that. I yelled back.

“Or what, Spencer? Are you gonna pin me against the wall and put your hand against my mouth again like the bad person you are, huh?” Spencer got angrier and more frustrated with every word I was saying but I was determined to speak my mind, “You’re gonna shut me up like the scary man you are, Dr. Reid? You’re gonna-” But I didn’t get further than that because in a heartbeat he forced me back against the wall again with his hands on both my cheeks and his lips pressed against mine.

He pulled back, “Please y/n, please shut up”, and the desperate tone in his voice awakened something primal in me.

“If you want me to shut up, you’re gonna have to make me because I will never stop trying to convince you that you are a good man, Spencer.” When he didn’t say anything I went on. “You are kind and gentle and-” 

He kissed me again, and this time I kissed him back until I wasn’t able to breathe anymore. His kisses wandered to my neck then.

“You say I am a good man, but you don’t know the things I thought about doing to you”, he bit the skin on my neck then and I gasped, which seemed to spur him on further, “I want to pin you down and fuck you until you’re crying. I want to make you feel so good that you can’t take it anymore.”

His kisses moved up my neck and to my ear. “ I want to break you into a thousand pieces and put you back together again. I want to ruin you for everyone else, I want to lock you in so that no man can ever look at you again and at the same moment I want to show you off to the entire world because you are the best thing in my life. I want to take you and make you mine”, he cried out, holding my hips in a bruising grip.

“Then take me, Spencer. Take me, break me, ruin me, I don’t care. I am already yours. I have been yours since the moment I met you.” He looked me in the eyes then, searching for any lies, any doubt, and when he didn’t find any, he kissed me another time.

“Say it again”, he demanded and let his hands travel down my body.

“I am yours, Spencer.”

“Again.” His hands roughly shoved up my skirt, his breath warm on my neck.

“I’m yours.” When his hand brushed against the damp panties I was wearing, I sucked in a breath.

“Again.” 

“I’m yours, Spencer. Only yours. Now please do something.” My plea seemed to finally push him over the edge because a second later he was moving the cotton aside and his fingers met wet skin.

He told me “Again.” over and over again, but the longer his fingers were moving inside of me, and the louder the sounds of my pleasure got, the more his demanding turned into begging and it wasn’t until I felt my orgasm wash over me, that he stopped our back and forth to press his lips against mine once more. 

My legs were trembling when he removed his hand from my cunt and the way he looked at me while bringing the same fingers that were inside of me moments ago to my lips didn’t help steady them.

He didn’t need to say anything, I knew exactly what he wanted. I don’t think he was quite prepared for the sight before him when my lips accepted his fingers and my tongue swirled around them though, because Spencer's eyes became even more feral at it.

“Fuck.” He removed his fingers and in only a few seconds removed my shirt, took off my bra, and had my skirt on the floor. I tried taking off his clothes too, but when my fingers started to unbutton his shirt, he gripped my wrists and walked me over to the bed. 

“If I had known that our fight would end in us having sex, I would have waited until we had something better available than a cheap hotel bed”, I breathed out a laugh. I figured he’d laugh as well but he returned a soft “Do you want to stop?”

“God no, but this bed is gonna squeak really loudly”, and this time I was met with a laugh. He didn’t interrupt when I started another attempt to undress him. When I was done with his shirt he finally raised his hands to touch me again and my whole body shivered when his palms made contact with my breasts. Feeling my erect nipples on his skin must have awoken yet another thing in him because the next thing I knew he was throwing me onto the bed. I didn’t even have time for a shocked gasp before he was on me, pinning my wrists down on the mattress.

“You know when I told you I want to ruin you”, he said while letting his hands travel down my body to grip the waistband of my panties, “I really did mean it.” And with that, he ripped the cotton apart and threw it to the side.

He continued to deny me any time for a reaction when he grabbed my thighs and pulled me towards him. His hips took their very rightful place between my thighs and pressed against me. 

We both moaned when his covered bulge pressed against wet and hot skin.

“Beg me to fuck you, y/n.” I think he was expecting me to hesitate, but I was desperate for him to touch me.

“Please fuck me, Spencer,” I moaned and ran my nails down his back.

“Huh, I thought you would put up more of a fight, to be honest.” He sounded disappointed, but his eyes told me that he was relieved I wanted this just as much as he did.

“Do you want me to?”, I still asked, wanting to give him everything he yearned for. 

“Another time. I think we dragged this out long enough for today”, he said and with that, he took off his underwear and I got to see all of him for the first time. I knew he would be beautiful, and it applied to any part of him, but I couldn’t fully conceal my shock at the length of him. 

And that smug bastard smirked. “Don’t worry darling, we'll make it fit.”

And with that, he moved back between my thighs and lined himself up with my entrance. I expected him to at least try and tease me a little but he started to push inside me immediately. 

We locked eyes while we both felt inch after inch of him sink inside of me. It was intense, erotic and so intimate that I felt the urge to look away. He must have felt it too, because when he was fully buried inside of me, his lips pressed against mine in a bruising way.

When he started to move and his lips started their way down to my jaw and neck, I completely lost it, moans and whimpers flowing from my mouth in a volume that even surprised myself. Spencer thrust harder and deeper the louder I became.

“I know you were worried about the bed being too loud, but I’m pretty sure your moans are covering that sound up pretty successfully, angel”, he panted with a labored breath and heat rose to my cheeks. I was trying to remember if any of our coworkers shared any walls with Spencers' room, but he was literally fucking me stupid so I just removed a hand from his back and bit down on my fingers, hoping no one has heard yet. When Spencer saw, he slowed down. He reached down the side of the bed and lifted up my torn panties, and then proceeded to remove my finger from my mouth to push the cotton in its place. “There, now you won't have to hurt your finger”, and with that, he picked up a brutal pace again.

He was muffling his own moans by pressing his mouth onto my shoulder, no doubt leaving behind a dozen of hickeys. He was losing it, I could feel it in the way he pushed his fingers into my hips and the muscles in his back tensing. I wasn’t doing much better, my thighs were trembling and my panties were barely concealing my noises anymore. The room smelt like sweat and sex, Spencer’s skin was hot on mine and I never felt more whole in my life. I could feel my orgasm building inside of me.

“Touch yourself for me, angel. I want you to come with me.” I didn’t hesitate and started rubbing circles over my clit. It only took a few moments until my orgasm washed over my entire body and Spencer quickly ripped my gag from my mouth to kiss me. My thighs and cunt clenching around him, pulling him into me as deep as humanly possible, must have pushed him over the edge because after a few more strokes he stilled at my deepest point and came.

He released my lips from his and put his forehead on mine so we could both catch our breaths. It was quiet for a few minutes. I could feel his cum dripping out of me between our bodies and spared a quick thought to the poor person that would have to clean these sheets. I couldn’t bring myself to care though, not with the way he kissed my skin and nuzzled his face into my neck. I moved a hand to his hair to run my fingers through it, the strands curling once again from sweat wetting them.

“Tell me again.” He spoke so softly I almost didn’t hear, and I’m not sure I was supposed to. It took me a moment to realize what he meant but when I did, I moved my mouth to whisper in his ear.

“I’m yours, Spencer. As long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever then?”, he pulled away to look at me, but before I could answer, there was a knock at the door.

“Ayo Spencer, are you and y/n still fighting? We decided to go to a bar a few blocks away, but you’re only allowed to come if you don’t put us all in a pissy mood”, Luke's voice seeped through the door. I could feel Spencer trying to come up with a reply but before he had a chance, I spoke up.

“Actually, Luke, we’re still in the middle of fighting and I don’t think you want either of us there with you right now.” I tried to sound mad and I must have been convincing enough because even Spencer furrowed his brows at the tone in my voice. I smiled at him and trailed a hand up his arm to reassure him that I was just putting up a show.

“Well, okay just… Try to remember you two are friends and don’t actually want to kill each other”, he replied almost nervously. Damn, we must have really worried the team with our fight this time.

When we heard his footsteps moving away, Spencer started to detangle us from each other. He was still inside of me and when he pulled out, I sighed at the empty feeling it left behind.

“I’m gonna get something to clean you up.” He tried to stand up but he didn’t get very far before I pulled him back. I held his face in my hands and made sure he was looking at me when I said the words I know he desperately needed to hear.

“Forever.”

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Hi there,

Saw your post about Cajun/cowboy Alastor and OMG! I don’t have many ideas other then maybe he plays poker for souls or something like that and maybe a reader comes into town and is just as good at poker as he is. And he cannot seem to win, leading him to become mildly obsessed over winning their soul.

Thats all I have as I don’t know much about cajun/cowboy stuff.

I’ll let you know if I have any other ideas!

Thank you!

Alastor - [ ACE OF HEARTS ]

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A/N: Omg, I love your take on cowboy Al! It got me thinking about it for days. I have never played poker, so I had to watch multiple YouTube videos to understand the game while writing this. Hopefully, it came out accurate enough! Also, this is a very, VERY traumatic/smut-heavy fic I'm working on, so please be aware and know I don't endorse anything I write.

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ GUN PLAY… ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON….eventually.] + [ SLIGHT/IMPLIED AGE GAP ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/BLOOD/CANNABILISM ] + [ KIDNAPPING…sort of?.. ] + [ PARENTAL PHYSICAL AB*SE…eventually..] + [ ANGST/TRUAMA…]

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**Cowboy Alastor** is known for his record of killing, is a skilled bounty hunter, and is far from a decently moral one. Everyone assumes his motives, guessing who his next target is and if he’ll ever feel guilt for what he does to them.

He doesn't.

What kind of demon would he be if he did…

Besides, the people he kills owe him in one way or another, all in debt to the red demon by their stupidity and lust for life, so he feels nothing for them when the time comes for the price of their deals to be paid.

Alastor arrives for them in the dead of dry nights, taking their last breath with a single bullet to the head or a clean cut across the throat. Their pleas do little to affect his decision.

“A deal is a deal…”

He reminds them that escaping a bloody end is impossible, already solidified by their selfish desires, and no amount of begging will change his mind. They curse his name, glaring at the grin on his face as he draws nearer with deathly intent in his eyes, and it only grows as he derives pleasure from their refusal to cooperate.

The riches, the riding, and the roughness he endures daily are nothing compared to the satisfaction he gets from killing. Others may deal in chasing oil, farming land, and cattle, but he stakes his fulfillment in the business of blood.

**Cowboy Alastor** dabbles in gambling when he's not off-striking deals with lowly souls or wreaking havoc on those he deems deserving.

Every city south of New Orleans with a bar or saloon welcomes his visits and not by choice.

Those who don't meet his standards or demands of hospitality drop from the face of the earth at his will, burning to a crisp full of the dead occupants who so lightly offended him, and never to be rebuilt out of fear he'd return to demolish it again.

He surely would, but no one has yet to test the theory in fear of a painful death by his hands.

Alastor leisurely travels the expanse of Louisiana's countryside, partial to riding wherever the wind blows, but he’ll always return to the rumbling city of New Orleans.

Whether for personal reasons or because his beloved mother wished to see him, it becomes second nature for the deer demon to reside there randomly. It was his hometown, after all, and he preferred the taste of whiskey from a familiar place over foreign alcohol in far-off dusty taverns he'd never visit again.

The saloon he fancies sits opposite the central townhouse, a tall building at the end of a main street that never seemed to rest.

Lafitte’s Blacksmith Bar

Summer nights brought out and drew in more people, filling the bar with patrons who knew of his deeds and those who’d only heard scarring stories about him through the ladder. The knowledge of a red reaper roaming the towns of Louisiana varied, but their fearful respect of him was abundant the moment Alastor stepped foot into the bustling bar.

He was there, in good spirits for the most part, but still an impossible threat they couldn't brush off.

**Cowboy Alastor** greets the silent patrons with a sly grin, tipping his hat to the fear-stricken owner who eyed him from behind the packed bar.

“Don't let me interrupt the fun, Cher. I'm not here to cause you trouble… that's if you're kind enough to indulge me.”Alastor chuckles, not waiting for a proper response from anyone as he stalks over to his usual spot in the smokey parlor.

A group of cattlemen stiffen in their seats as he walks by, all grabbing their drinks as swiftly as possible before leaping up from their table to avoid him, and their skittish actions cause Alastor to laugh as he settles into a particular backroom booth.

It was customary for people to keep their distance from him, some deterred by his striking appearance while others simply didn't want to risk involvement with a known killer. He saw nothing wrong with their aversion, glad that his reputation proceeded him, but there were those single few who saw him as a challenge rather than a threat.

Poor fools…

Mortal or not, he ran into them regularly, welcoming their duels like a bored child getting a new toy to destroy, and though he knew they'd fail to win against him, he'd never turn down a good game.

Ever…

**Cowboy Alastor** lets the saloon wind into chaos again, humming along to the melody of music and rowdy singing while getting comfortable in his secluded spot.

His hat rests low on his head, shielding most of his red gaze from those who look his way, only leaving the view of his Cheshire smile and effectively signaling his oddly calm demeanor. Alastor slipped his riding jacket off, tossing the tailored burgundy clothing across the back of the booth, his leather and suede black gloves following suit.

“What a day it's been…” he mumbled while flexing his long fingers, relaxing his posture while leaning back and rolling his neck until a soft ‘pop’ was heard.

Consequently, the tension tangled in his limber body from riding all day unraveled. Alastor sucked his teeth at the feeling, licking his lips as a satisfied groan left them, and just as he sat forward again, the owner hurried to his table with a bottle of alcohol and a tray of cigars.

“Your usual, Al,” he split out, setting the items in front of him with shakey hands, and Alastor clicks his tongue at the nervous tick. He'd come to this bar for years, and the old man still trembled in his boots around him. The poor fool wouldn't dare admit his fear either, rushing off as soon as he reached for the bottle, and though some might consider his retreat rude, Alastor found it amusing.

Flattering, even.

**Cowboy Alastor** drinks slowly, letting the whiskey burn his tongue and drowning the malt taste with languid drags from a cigar.

Eyes scan over him, women whisper about him lustfully under the rowdy music, and the men keep their senses about them with happy trigger fingers.

Because as they say: “Red Reaper, Red Reaper. The devil's solemn deal keeper. Beware him & the hell he seeks…”

Alastor imposes his intensity, grinning at those who stare too long, watching the women who drink him in with an equally sultry stare, and daring the men to throw a bullet his way with a knowing smirk. He invites trouble, waiting for it like a preying snake in tall, dry grass, but after some time, he assumes no one in the saloon will accept his invitation.

That is until you step in, looking lost among the worldly thrills of a bar but unafraid to venture further into it with an air of certainty surrounding you.

**Cowboy Alastor** makes no move to approach you, laid back as ever, as he observes the gentle way you speak to men who drunkenly approach you. They make offers to dance, almost crowding your more diminutive form as you trail to the bar.

“Sorry, boys, but I'm here on business, not pleasure. Now, run along..” you wave them away playfully, purposely flirtatious but avidly stern.

He expects them to continue bugging you; you're a doll, after all, prettier than most women he's seen. However, the men retreat politely, leaving you be as the owner approaches your side, and you immediately turn to hug him despite his apparent concerned expression.

Alastor observes the exchange closely, reading your lips perfectly while sipping at his drink, and it's all too easy for him to assess the situation.

The daughter of a businessman returns home after finishing school in the north, wanting to visit him at work as a pleasant surprise, but he's far from happy about a young lady like yourself being out late at night in a place like this.

You're too mannered to be seen around the patrons, it's dangerous for you to ride alone in the evening, and your father isn't pleased you intend to stay out to celebrate your school completion.

He tells you it's best to go home, that he'll come with you, but you insist on staying and remind him, “I'm not your little girl anymore, Daddy!..” The older man can't seem to rein you in, having to drop the lecture as a small brawl breaks out in the corner of the saloon, which draws his attention immediately, and this leaves you to wander the scene freely.

A perfect time for Alastor to reel you in close and personal…

**Cowboy Alastor** whistles when you walk past his area, catching your attention with a short, soulful melody, and you quickly notice him in the dim back room.

“Hi there, lil’ lady. Searchin' for somethin'?” He inquires playfully, tone bordering sensual, and his grin slipping into a closed smile as your gaze settles on him.

You’re curious, not scared of him like most are, and the moment he speaks to you, questions race through your head.

Who is he?

How have you never seen him here before?

Why, in God's name, is he sitting away from the masses?

Is he a rider, a hunter, or maybe a convict?

It was hard to tell from a distance, so without a second thought, you flashed him a gentle smile, gradually approaching where he sat, “Hello, and who might you be, sir?” You chirp a greeting, resisting the urge to bite your lip as he stares into your wandering gaze.

Alastor assumed you’d been away from the South too long to realize who he was, that your father's earlier warning didn’t sprout from overprotectiveness but rather fear of his presence.

You didn’t see him as a threat, nor a danger, but a new face in an old town.

He chuckles, putting out his cigar after taking a particularly long drag from it, blowing smoke past his lips with a coy hum. You blink as the convoluted air fans your face, unbothered by it and itching for a taste of tobacco yourself. It’d been a few years since you’d let loose, not allowed to frequent bars or act unladylike in the limelight of northern modesty.

“A loyal patron, but it’s been some time since I’ve paid this place a visit.” He answers you politely, an odd trait that most men only reserved for themselves but refreshing to experience.

“Oh, well, that’s nice to hear, but your name is what I would like to know.”

A tender smirk stretches your lips, a red hue dusting your cheeks as he tips his hate apologetically before uttering a response, “Alastor Hartifelt. A pleasure to meet you, Miss…” he pauses, quirking a brow at you expectantly, and you take a moment to analyze him further.

You've heard your father utter his name many times before your departure to the north. He'd described him brutally, having less than pleasant things to say about bounty hunters in general but especially about the man in front of you now. You'd heard people talk of his deeds, deals, and evil.

He was dubbed the ‘Red Reaper’ for a good reason, lurking around in the bitter nights and drawing blood from one poor soul or another in his travels.

Supposedly, he was a terrifying monster, but you'd always found beauty in the demented. It was one of the reasons your father had sent you away, but fortunately, the influence of the posh upper class did nothing to change your consciousness.

Besides, the rumors had failed to mention how attractive the red reaper was, let alone dashing. He seemed nice enough hadn't flashed his weapon, threatened, or catcalled you disrespectfully.

So, you found no harm in telling him your name, “Y/n L/n. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Hartifelt.” You blink slowly, drowning in his red eyes, unconsciously swaying where you stood, back to a wall that hid your presence near him from your father's eyes and the curious stares of others.

Alastor glanced at the space beside him, silently asking that you join him, but unlike most women, he rarely took an interest in, you didn't move until he asked you outright.

“Would you care to join me for a drink, Miss L/n? I'd like to have your company for a while..”

He doesn't speak any louder than needed, using every bit of charm he has to lure you in, and you let him believe he's succeeded with a sensual laugh and purring laugh.

“Why, I thought you'd never ask..”

**Cowboy Alastor** asks a lot of questions. Subtly gathering information about you that he has no use for.

You give him answers; some are lies, others are indiscriminate truths, but you can't bring yourself to be completely honest with a stranger known for his cunning. He keeps your glass full, pacing the liquor with you, reveling in your gentle laughter after every sip, and softening faster and faster the longer you conversed.

You kept your wits about you as best as possible, inviting his fleeting touches but never going further than whispering in his ear or tapping a finger under his sharp chin when he'd stare too long.

Alastor didn't mind your soft hands on him, nor your lingering gaze and confident provocations. He absentmindedly returned the gestures just as boldly.

Your fifth glass of whiskey was running low, and without a hint of hesitation, he refilled it alongside his own. You watched as the amber liquid filled each glass, utterly relaxed as he spoke to you tenderly, “You say your father sent you far up north. May I ask why?…”

He peers at you, sliding the transparent glass into your waiting hand, and you chuckle wryly while taking a sip. “Daddy says it was for my good. You see, my mother is a stickler about manners, and I didn't have much of any growing up. Ironic, seeing as I was raised well enough.” you paused, frowning at the memory of your strict but loving mother.

She was lovely to look at and kind most of the time, but her ambitions for you outweighed her patience. Alastor noted the haunting sadness in your eyes but said nothing as you continued, looking out into the crowd of patrons fussing about as you did.

“My mother died a few years back, leaving daddy to handle me, and when he realized he couldn't manage the business and a daughter, he sent me away. Couldn't blame him either; I was getting into trouble left and right and had some bad habits on the rise, too.”

His ears perked at the words ‘bad habits’ leaving your lips, naturally drawn to knowing a mortal's darkest secrets, so he pressed for clarification.

“Bad habits, you say? I couldn't imagine a sweet thing like you havin’ such things.”

You scoffed, glad your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol buzz to mask the blush his comment invoked, “Well…I did. Still do if I'm honest.” you admit in a hushed tone, knocking back the last of your drink before glancing his way.

“It's hard to resist doing things you're good at.”

Alastor leaned back into the seat, drink in one hand, the other fixing his hat so it sat back on his head. The adjustment gave you a peek at his fluffy red hair and the distinctive blood-marked x on his forehead. You thought to ask what the mark meant but saved the question for later, as he agreed with your statement.

“Very true, ma chere. Although I'm one for killin’, your passion may not be so grizzly and easier to alleviate.”

“My father thinks gambling is just as bad as killing. It doesn't matter if he's addicted to it himself or not. If I do it…I'm the devil's daughter in his eyes..” You roll your eyes, an action that jolts a nerve Alastor hasn't felt in years and subconsciously doesn't ignore.

“Gambling? That's your unproper poison?” he narrows his gaze as you nod lazily, a few ringlets of your hair falling from its pinned-up style as you do, resting on the skin of your shoulders and neck.

Soft.

Your locks look soft and silky to the touch, tempting him to run his fingers through it, across your skin, and, god forbid, under your dress.

A heavy breath settled in his chest at the possibility, a familiar rush coursing through him as you moved your lips to speak, “Yes. I see a stack of playin’ cards, and I just can't help myself. I got rather good at playing too but when you beat everyone in town at it people start to be less kind about your reputation.”

You laugh, attempting to make a light-hearted joke but ultimately grimacing at the mention of lousy sportsmanship from others. You couldn't help winning a challenge in poker, and many saw the talent as disgraceful, which prompted I'll rumor about you.

“That's a shame, sugar. Everyone deserves a chance to play a good game of their choosing.” he feigns concern, meeting your curious eyes as you shift to face him, “Everyone except me if my father has anything to say about it. Still, I suppose it's best I let it go…” you sigh, grabbing the bottle of whiskey to pour another shot.

Suddenly, you freeze, feeling his body heat invade your space. Alastor tilts his head down close to yours, breathing in your scent discretely before pressing his lips to the lobe of your ear as he mutters into it, “Why don't you play a game with me, chere? One lil’ round for fun… right under your daddy's nose, hm?”

The burn of excitement seizes your body, a shakey breath leaving your lips as his voice settles in your mind, inviting you to indulge his offer. That same heat pooled in your core with every second he spent in your space, inhaling the scent of bourbon and sweet sugar cane grass he rode through radiating off him, words just as inviting and addictive.

For a horrifying, well-feared killer, he sure did entice a woman like any natural-born gentleman…

It was a deathly combination you knew he often used, killing or not, and though it'd be wise to avoid his idea, you didn't want to risk missing an opportunity for the thrill.

It'd been so long, too long, and what's the worst that could happen?

Losing to him?

You'd never lost to anyone before, and you were confident that fact wouldn't change -even going up against the Red Reaper himself.

**Cowboy Alastor** relishes when you utter a ‘yes’ to his offer. His grin widens menacingly for a split second as he sets his glass down next to your empty one, conjuring up a meticulously detailed deck of playing cards and placing them on the table.

“You can choose which game we play, sugar…”

Alastor shifts away from you, letting you regain your composure and watching as your delicate fingers reach for the top card of the deck.

“Poker. A favorite of mine..” You didn't think twice before answering him, admiring the red and black ace in your hand, wondering where he acquired such personalized playing cards.

“Poker it is then, chere,” he smirks wickedly, removing his hat entirely to set it on the table before gingerly plucking the card from your hold and sliding to sit opposite you while dishing out equal amounts of cards between you.

Your eyes light up under the oil lamp's golden hue, studying the flick of his hands as he worked, trying hard not to wander up to his piercing gaze. Afraid he'd immediately see your attraction to his nimble hands, well to him in general, and use it against you somehow, so your focus remains on the hand dealt and not him.

As you both plucked your respective set from the table, studying the cards intently, you asked the singular most crucial question every poker match was built on.

“What will the bets be,” Your innocent inquiry earns sultry laughter from him, filling the air, raising feverish chills on your skin as he stares at you through half-lidded eyes.

“I prefer bargains of the soul, my dear. The use and price of one's existence is always more valuable than money, don't you agree?”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx

A/N: Don't be mad AT ME, GUYS, PLEASE. I HAD EXAMS LAST WEEK. I'm SORRY FOR DROPPING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH… sort of, but I'm back now (please do hate me :((( ). Uh, so I might merge “Down in the Dust” with this because both stories kinda originated in my brain at the same time. However, since this is a request, I wrote a two-part tangent smut as a sort of prequel to the other fic! Also, the phrase “Save a horse. Ride a cowboy” will be unironically used…I'm sorry (I'm not lol) ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ] VOLUME WARNING!!! 🗣️

Fun fact: In the South, we have a rule that if you take a cowboy hat and end up wearing it, they catch you with it (preferably in the mutual interest of getting to know each other). That cowboy gets to fuck you (hopefully, but technically you're initiating a flirting game wearing their hat, lol). It's a cute concept and one any Cowboy Alastor enthusiast should think about. ❤️ credits to the creator.

[hijinxinprogress]

Young Justice is made up of snarky traumatized losers with terrible coping skills so whenever something bad happens or just mildly inconveniences them, they’ll just mutter something completely out of pocket

Any of them waking up in a gurney after a fight in response to ‘are you okay’: “I mean nothing will ever hurt more than the fact that my family will never know me as well as my friends do”

A villain giving some variation of the ‘we’re the same/we’re not that different from each other’ speech after doing some off the walls crazy ass scheme that harmed multiple people?

Cassie: it’s almost like being home

Cissie, nodding: and getting lectured by-

Kon, who only heard ‘lectured’ bc he’ll be damned if he has to pay attention to some villain monologue and Clark: -Superman?

Cassie and Cissie, imitating muscle man: My mom

Tim’s tech loses power for some reason while he’s doing research for a case?

“Okay cool, just die on me like my parents…no this is great”

A villain saying anything along the lines of ‘stop hiding’ or ‘where are you’ and a YJ member responding back “why are you more concerned with my whereabouts than my literal family?”

“Tim, where’s the evidence??”

“Gone like my parents for my entire childhood. Jesus, do I look like I know?”

Someone lies/betrays anyone in yj but particularly Anita or tim?

“Ooh, plot twist! I’m kidding, I’m always expecting someone to betray my trust”

“Is this the part where you reveal that we’re related???”

“I’m not saying I expected this but I kinda expected this…”

Anyone in YJ but particularly Tim and Bart in response to ‘how was your day?’:

“I don’t think I’ve ever really taken the time to process the death of my loved one(s)”

Anyone coping better than yj: “Are you…good??”

“Not really, no. Do you want an extremely detailed explanation for this cool thing I know?!”

A villain made an insult that hit a little to close home towards Cissie, Tim, or Cassie?

“The only person that’s allowed to make me feel like shit is my mom!”

“Thank you for that! God, it’s like talking to my mother.”

Bart gets hurt on a mission?

“Wow, that hurt almost as much as leaving my friends and family to their impending doom back home”

“Yikes, this is almost as bad as being stuck in the past with a family that wants nothing to do with me” 

“I’m okay, nothing hurts more than when I realized despite having a family, my friends make up my entire support system…”

[These are all comments made casually to the titans or justice league bc YJ are deeply concerning individuals that traumabonded and think they’re funny (they are) but really they’re just traumatizing their mentors/coworkers and friends/loved ones]

[cosmic--dandelion]

Hot take: Blitzø's "arrangement" with Stolas isn't abuse. It's sex work.

From the beginning, Blitzø and Stolas's relationship has been mutually consential.

Blitzø is not going to starve to death in the streets if he doesn't fuck Stolas. He's a highly accomplished assassin/bodyguard/fighter-for-hire on par with people like Striker. (How else do you think he started dating a global superstar celebrity like Verosika? He was probably her bodyguard.) Hell, Stolas himself was perfectly willing to pay him regular money to be a bodyguard in "Loo Loo Land." Blitzø almost turned the job down because he wouldn't get to kill people.

Whatever his motivations are for starting his own business, it's not mere survival. It's probably a matter of personal pride since he always wanted to be his own boss and have his own circus, but he was an absolute failure as an enrertainer.

Blitzø is the one who built his entire business model off of having continued access to an infinitely powerful, one-of-a-kind magical artifact that belonged to a demon prince. Blitzø doesn't have any sort of right to the Grimoir; it was given to Stolas so he could serve the machinations of the upper echelons of Hell by interpreting the prophecies in the stars. So no, Stolas is under no obligation to just give it to him.

As seen in "Unhappy Campers", if Blitzø really, desperately wanted to travel to Earth, he could just steal an Asmodean crystal from a sucubus. He stays in this arrangement with Stolas because it's convenient for him. We're not shown how Blitzø actually feels about sleeping with Stolas, but he seems to be pretty neutral on the act itself.

This is Blitzø after sex that he hated. Dude looks borderline traumatized.

Blitzø looks, at worst, mildly annoyed when they're in bed together, and that's largely because Stolas wants the book back so he can perform a ceremony at the Harvest Moon Festival. Blitzø, in his own words, has a long list of clients waiting for heads to roll.

Blitzø straight up volunteered to fuck Stolas's brains out just to thank him for saving him and the rest of I.M.P. The first night they had sex, he spent the whole night with Stolas when he didn't have to. Stolas even offered to skip the whole kinky sex thing multiple times and literally just hand the book over, and Blitzø was relatively indifferent.

Blitzø can and has said no to Stolas when he isn't in the right headspace or just plain doesn't want to, and Stolas accepts it. He never gets angry or entitled toward Blitzø.

It's also worth pointing out as early as "Ozzies", Stolas was researching Asmodean crystal. He knows the transactional nature of their relationship is preventing them from forming any kind of meaningful connection, and it massively hurts the fiercely independent Blitzø's pride that he's basically Stolas's sugar baby.

So Stolitz is an absolute train wreck right now. It's been made very obvious that things can't continue as they are and lead to any sort of genuine, fulfilling relationship like what Asmodeus and Fizzarolli have. Their "arrangement" is unhealthy, sleazy, and exploitive on both sides: Stolas is using Blitzø as an outlet for all his pent up sexual frustration after being trapped in a loveless, sexless marriage with an emotionally abusive partner for almost two decades, and Blitzø is willing to seduce, manipulate, and lie to Stolas to get what he wants.

Look, I like Blitzø, but he is *not* a good person, or a good partner. Remember when Blitzø tricked Stolas into thinking they were on a date just so he could ignore him and spy on the M&M's? Or how he *aggressively* came onto a possibly drunk Stolas, shoving him onto the bed and straddling him when he clearly not ready for what was about to happen and was even protesting a little, all so Blitzø could steal from him. And this is totally in character for Blitzø. Look how he treated Verosika!

Ultimately, they're both very damaged, fucked up people who've done shitty things and hurt themselves and each other. I think they can cobble together some semblance of a functioning relationship when they actually start communicating with each other and admitting what they want.

[hellenhighwater]

This may be a mildly weird question, and I apologize if it is, but do you have any advice for how to figure out if a person (specifically oneself) would be a good cat owner? I love cats, and a lot of my future dreams involve owning one (or several). However, I often worry that I wouldn't be a good cat owner. When I was a kid, I was often nervous/skittish around animals because I couldn't predict them and was afraid of getting scratched or bitten. I'm a lot better now than I used to be (will actively seek to interact with my friends' pets, have been trusted to look after peoples' dogs for short periods of time), a lot of my instinctive reactions to being startled by animals are still . . . not entirely helpful. (Not directly harmful! I would never! But stuff like freezing up or pulling away in such a way that it can give the wrong signal to animals.) Plus, I'm not always great at picking up cues/body language from people, and based on what I've read, that's about 75% of how animals communicate, so even during good interactions, I'm always a little worried that I'm doing something wrong because I'm missing some cue.

Again, I love cats and would very much like to have one or more someday. But I only want to do that if I can be sure that I'm going to be able to give any cats of mine a good life, and I don't want to get a cat only to have to rehome it a few months later. Any tips on how to handle all this?

Thanks so much for your time and, more generally, for the delight of seeing Malice and Vice (and the kittens!) periodically on my dash. Your posts about them always brighten my day. <3

It sounds like you'd be a good owner to the right cat, and that you may want to find someone who can help you pick that cat out when you're in a position to adopt one. If you're lucky, a local shelter or rescue may be able to help you with this. If you can, call ahead and explain that you're looking for your first cat, and would like some help finding that one; ask if there's a good time to come meet some cats where someone who knows the current cats well could maybe point you to one that might be right. Also, if a personality profile for a cat includes "good with kids," that probably means they're going to be tolerant of any mistakes you might make re: body language.

You should definitely look for an adult, at least six years old, maybe even a cat in the senior category (which, depending on how a shelter or rescue categorizes cats, can be any cat over the age of 10. Cats can live a long time, so 10 is really not that old.) Try to not get attached to specific looks and just go by personality.

Cats have a lot of personality variety, and there's tons of cats out there that are truly very friendly and cuddly, and really just need someone to meet their basic needs and shower them in affection. An adult cat that has lived with people before, or who was just a friendly stray is probably going to take it fine if you freeze up or pull back suddenly, and if they're old enough to have become chill, will just walk away if you're bugging them. Crucially, you do not want to try to take a difficult or traumatized cat as your very first one. Those cats need help, true, but you need to learn first.

You can learn a lot about body language for cats online, but mostly you learn it by exposure. Plus, cat body language can be very individual-specific, so it's fine to just learn over time what your cat is saying.

There's tons of cats that are just sweet-natured. A'Tuin, my momma foster, would make a great first cat for someone! She's not shy about coming up and asking for attention, and will even use her paws to pull my hand to her face for ear scratches. She's good with not using her claws, has never tried to nip or bite, and mostly just wants to be looked after and cuddled. And there's tons of cats like her out there.

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter 12.1: More group texts

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Chapter summary: some more chaotic group texts for your enjoyment

Warnings: Sexual innuendo and utter chaos

Notes: My notes are screaming at me to stop

Previous <-

Masterlist

Oscar the Unfazed

Y/N: Lando, I swear on your favorite McLaren hoodie that if you don't fix this right now, I will not hesitate to break your bones.

Maxy: care to share with the group?

Lan: I may have sent a few messages to Oscar from her phone 🫣

Charlie: and you did this why?

Lan: Because I want my girlfriend and my teammate to get along?

Y/N: Lies and slander

Y/N: it's fine now though

Y/N: he said thanks for the compliment

Lan: That's it?

Charlie: wdym that it? What did you say?!

Y/N: he called Oscar the 'epotime of male physique'

Maxy: lan...

Maxy: you out yourself in these situations and now I have to do something about it

Charlie: I have so many ideas after the stunt he pulled with Carlos yesterday

Lan: before I get my ass whooped can we all agree that Oscar is unfazed by everything???

We should start a band

Lan: So here me out

Lan: we should start a band

Maxy: I have no musical talent

Y/N: Charlie would be sore from carrying us

Oscar: I can play the kazoo

Charlie: I forgot he's here now

Charlie: genuinely panicked

Oscar: I feel so loved -_-

Charlie: What would we be called anyway?

Y/N: Charlie and the untalented

Lan: the music man plus friends

Maxy: Charles and the Ferrari strategist

Oscar: why that one?

Maxy: Because similar to them, we also would not be helping Charles in any way

Oscar's first post race celebration

Y/N: I feel like at this rate Max is going to get a complex

Y/N: And it's not fair. I don't even get to join in anymore :(

Charlie: But you like being told what to do? So Max winning is a good thing, no?

Lan: He makes a point

Lan: Last time I placed higher then them you cried

Maxy: We all cried because you tease for to long

Oscar: I've been informed I'm invited to whatever this is?

Charlie: 👀

Charlie: did Lando explain?

Oscar: Indeed, he did ;)

Maxy: whatever he told you is a lie

Maxy: he's not innocent

Oscar: as I've found

Y/N: 🫢

Charlie: oh please share, Chéri

Oscar: I think you underestimate me

Oscar: I may be the youngest, but I am certainly not fazed by Lando

Y/N: Did you actually manage to make him behave???

Y/N: Oscar has my respect

Lan: It's not what you think it is

Maxy: and here I thought those marks were from us

Maxy: Nice work Oscar

Y/N: Lan... there's three of them now

Lan: means triple the fun ;)

Oscar and Daniel

Oscar: I have a question

Lan: yes?

Oscar: Does Daniel know?

Charlie: unfortunately yes

Charlie: he lacks any kind of boundaries

Maxy: If he touches you, I'm obligated to throw punches

Oscar: Do I want to know what happened?

Y/N: Max and Charlie traumatized him

Maxy: well deserved mind you

Maxy: he ignored boundaries and hurt Land and Y/N

Oscar: ohhhhh

Oscar: Lando mentioned this once

Oscar: I remember it vividly because he didn't say all the details, but I got mildly protective

Lan: It was his quartet awakening

Lan: if we're not careful we're going to get the entire grid

Charlie: Absolutely not

Maxy: Daniel is a no

Y/N: good thing he's not on the grid then 👀

Y/N: For now at least

Maxy: WHAT DO YOU KNOW??

True Crime

Lan: I'm scared

Charlie: why? Did the cats get mad at you again?

Lan: No

Lan: Y/N and Oscar are watching a true crime documentary and it's scary

Maxy: we're living with a superhero

Maxy: I promised Charles we'd have dinner tonight

Maxy: well be home in a couple of hours so play nice until then

Y/N: Lan, in hindsight, this helps protect us if you think about it

Oscar: exactly because we'll know what to look for

Oscar: and how to hide a body

Someone is late

Maxy: the jet was supposed to take off ten minutes ago

Maxy: explain to me why Y/N and Charles are the only ones here

Lan: uh.... Oscar overslept

Lan: definitely no other reason

Y/N: you stayed in Oscar's room last night

Y/N: did you nit wake him up?

Lan: but he looks so peaceful

Os: I'm litterally awake

Os: don't pin this on me

Charlie: somone better explain

Maxy: at this point I don't care

Maxy: just get here or I'm leaving you two behind

Os: it's Landos fault

Os: Someone decided to try something ridiculous

Charlie: what else is new?

Maxy: estimated time then? Do you two need help?

Os: with help maybe 10 minutes. Without help then possible another hour

Y/N: I saw you two just now and Lando I don't understand how you managed to bend like that

Y/N: you're so lucky I lobe you

Maxy: next time please pull stupid stunts when we're home

I'm still learning

Y/N: when were you guys going to tell me that school lasts all day?

Y/N: I wish I could've gone to school

Os: I won't speak for everybody, but my school was good aside from the part where I wanted to do anything else

Lan: it's not as good as you might think

Charlie: Most of us didn't go to regular school or had to drop out

Maxy: Seb used to make me and Y/N do some sort of educational activity together

Maxy: So I'd say my school was great later on.

Os: Wait, did you not go to school Y/N?

Y/N: Did I not tell you guys?

Y/N: I didn't leave my property for 15 years

Max: she was really clueless

Charlie: Actually, how did you learn? Like to read and write and do math?

Y/N: As much as I hate him, my dad is incredibly smart

Maxy: no your dad is evil

Lan: try disturbed

Charlie: should be burned at the stake

Os: slowly cut up into tiny peices

Y/N: you guys are scaring me...

Sweatshirt roulette

Maxy: remember how we said we weren’t going to put Oscar in a compromising situation?

Charlie: Yes

Y/N: Yes

Lan: Yes

Os: Yes

Maxy: then why on earth have the lovely papaya duo swapped sweatshirts?

Lan:…………..

Os: in out defense our sweatshirts are practically the same

Y/N: aren’t you four in the driver briefing??

Charlie: Yes and Logan has been snickering behind them nonstop

Lan: I was wondering why it smelled different

Os: and you didn’t say anything?

Lan: Idk maybe you slept in it or something?

Maxy: Logan whispered something… tell me what it was -_-

Os: He started singing the Pokémon theme song

Os: Then he said I’ve been caught

Lewis & Seb

Lewis: Can you come get the kids? they are being chaotic again and its scaring me

Seb: Your an Adult

Seb: Just tell them to stop

Lewis: Max is chasing Daniel through the paddock

Lewis: Nvm

Lewis: He caught him and is dragging him off somewhere.

Seb: Not surprising

Lewis: that’s concerning…

Lewis: I swear they are like hormonal teenagers

Lewis: And your daughter is collecting drivers like Pokémon.

Seb: and you weren’t like that at their age?

Seb: I remember a few times where I caught you doing things

Lewis: I thought you said you’d never bring that up!

Seb: Yet here we are

Seb: complain about them again, and I won't hesitate to tell all five exactly what you were like

~

Next ->

@styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak @chanshintien @vellicora @hollie911 @pretty-little-bunny382728

[satelliterayne]

Eddie is so ‘dad shaped’ as May likes to remind him and he denies it until the day that Hen leaves the station and they have a new probie and the new kid starts and she’s barely 21 and graduated from highschool a year early and has a degree in conservation and biology of all things and Eddie looks at her and immediately picks up on the small rainbow tattooed on her hand. He’s spent 30 years of his life repressed, sue him if he likes knowing that the generations after him are safer to be out and proud about it. He also can see that shes anxiously pulling her long sleeves down as if to cover it and so he goes over and shows her his home screen which is of course him and Buck and Chris at LA pride last year and the watery smile she gives him makes it worth it when he notices at lunch that her sleeves are pulled up to her elbows. After that it just accidentally becomes a ThingTM anytime someone enters the firehouse thats even a little bit gay Eddie just… adopts them (Ravi insists he was the first queer that Eddie adopted but Buck maintains that its just misplaced Stockholm syndrome from when Eddie saved Ravi from a chainsaw wielding Buck). He doesn’t do it on purpose, he just aches sometimes, imagining them coming into the firehouse and not knowing for sure if they will be accepted or just tolerated.

Jay comes into the firehouse just after Cora and they immediately gravitate towards Eddie, soon his weekends off are filled with wine nights at Karen and Hen’s that have grown to include Cora and her girlfriend and Jay complaining about their crush on Dylan who works at the 136 with Lena and then May starts coming and then it just spirals from there. There is a groupchat used to coordinate babysitting for date nights and wine nights and memes. so so so many memes.(Eddie is out of his comfort zone and why the fuck does Cora keep sending raccoon memes that are mildly concerning) 

Jay’s little brother who’s Christophers age hangs out at the firehouse to do his homework ONE TIME and Eddie learns that Jay was “asked to find another place to live” after coming out and that their little brother followed after announcing he was bisexual. Eddie aches for them and on his next 48 off he ropes Buck into making dinner and he invites Jay and Blake over for a family dinner and pretends to not notice when Jay thanks Buck for their first real homecooked meal in years, from that day forward there is a standing invitation for the siblings and Buck teaches them both how to cook.  Cora ends up spending the night on his couch after her first real fight with her girlfriend, he wakes up the following morning to the sound of Chris practicing his speech for his sophomore AP english class and Cora listening so intently and giving such good pointers that it makes Eddie joke about her being the big sister Chris has always wanted before pulling her into a hug before she leaves (he also ends up officiating her wedding and cries. Buck has proof). May comes over before she introduces her girlfriend to Athena and Bobby for the first time and Ravi just comes over whenever he wants to complain about how gay panic inducing it is for hot guys to live in his apartment complex and work out at the same time as him. 

Eddie has moved on from being nicknamed 8-pack and is now dubbed mother duck because “Eddie you adopted us like fucked up trauma ducklings and now we follow you around” said by a very deadpan Jay. (Eddie does NOT cry when Chris and Blake go to senior prom together.) Even farther into the future, when he becomes captain of the 118 he prides himself on having the queerest shift in the LAFD, he keeps a pride flag in his office, next a framed picture of him and Buck on their wedding day, Chris and Blake’s wedding invitations and 7 rubber ducks, all signed by his original crew of adopted ducklings.

Idk man I just really need to see Eddie cope with Chris growing up by adopting traumatized queer firefighters on accident. 

[an-aspiring-jester]

15 questions + 15 friends

I was tagged by @incomingalbatross, thank you!

Are you named after anyone? Not really. But according to my parents, they just really liked their coworker's name, and so they made a female version. He was pretty much a random guy to them though, so I don't know if it should be counted as being named after him, more like a bit of inspiration. XD

When was the last time you cried? Probably last week? I cry over random stuff a lot recently. Which is mildly puzzling since I was never a crier before. I guess I'm catching up on some crying quota? XD

Do you have kids? No, and I don't plan to. For now at least.

What sports do you play/have you played? PE was always a nightmare and I was rubbish at every single game. I never liked sports. I guess that badminton and table tennis are kinda fun, I enjoy playing it with friends sometimes (as long as neither party expects a serious match XD), but that's about it.

Do you use sarcasm? Sometimes, mostly jokingly.

What is the first thing you notice about people? I'm terrible at noticing stuff. And remembering faces. XD It's honestly embarrassing how long I have to know someone before I can confidently recognize them in the street. I guess I pay attention to voice, I often identify people based on that.

What's your eye color? Blue.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings! Though I also enjoy angst and drama - I basically have no issues with severely traumatizing fictional characters AS LONG AS it gets better in the end.

Any talents? I guess sculpting? General artistic stuff? I'm entirely self-taught.

Where were you born? Poland.

What are your hobbies? Making ooak dolls, modeling, writing, drawing, musical theatre, animation.

Do you have any pets? A cat.

How tall are you? Average, I think?

Favorite subject in school? Polish. I also loved Biology. Math, Chemistry and English (as a foreign language) were fun too.

Dream job? I honestly have no idea. I kinda enjoy teaching but I don't know how I'd handle it full-time.

Tagging (no pressure, only if you want to!): @la-laguna-dei-bei-sogni, @goldiejake11, @koizumi-marichan, @peikonlainen, @maikingsenseofit, @ljf613, @joyfulcreatordestiny, @cityoftheangelllls, @lumiy-a and whoever else hasn't been tagged and wants to participate!

[ffcrazy15]

Y'know...

I'm kinda getting just...burnt out, man. I don't know what it is, but the fanfic community these last few years has just been really difficult to engage with. There are a lot of reasons, but I think among the biggest is this: (warning: long vent incoming):

So. I've been writing fanfic for...gosh, fourteen years now. And back in the day, we had our fair share of problems, I won't lie. Now I came in after the major flame wars of the '00s, but still, there were the shipping wars and the shit-stirrers and the people who took other people having a different opinion on their faves WAY too personally.

But! There were rules of engagement. People might not have always followed them, but back then you could say to someone, "hey, you're not behaving in the way we all agree people should behave in this space. You're being a jerk." And people would either lose their shit at you and you'd block them, or they'd apologize and not do the rude thing moving forward.

This went especially for new writers/readers. They'd make a mistake, people would inform them, and they wouldn't make the mistake again moving forward. That was how we built a health community back then.

*Now: a disclaimer. I know not all new fans are like this, and to those of you who do listen when people inform you of the etiquette of fandom spaces, I want to give a sincere thank-you. The following does not apply to you.

However, and not to be an old woman yelling at the kids to get off her lawn, but:

I see people trying, politely, to tell newcomers the basic rules of engagement for how to interact in fandom. "Don't complain about things that are clearly marked in the summary or tags." "Do not get into dumb shipping wars. Ship and let ship." "Don't leave harsh or unasked-for concrit." "Don't demand updates in the comments."

And instead of saying "Oh wow, sorry, I didn't know about that, I'll do better next time"—I see some new folks responding with things like "Well this just makes me NEVER want to comment/engage/participate!"

And writers are so scared of not getting ANY engagement in this landscape of already dwindling comments and reblogs—or worse, ruining things for other writers—that they immediately capitulate and say oh, we're sorry, we shouldn't have told you you were being rude, please don't stop commenting on fics, we were in the wrong.

And I'm here to say: No. Enough! It is our job as the older citizens of this space to set the expectations for community behavior. If the new arrivals get mildly embarrassed for being politely informed (key words there) that they've committed a faux pas, then that's okay! It's a growing experience. Learning how to be polite in new social settings isn't traumatizing them or causing them emotional harm. They will survive the couple seconds of embarrassment, and then they will go on to be kinder and more conscientious citizens of the digital landscape.

Now, if you're a newcomer who is intimidated by people telling you the rules of etiquette in fandom spaces:

Look. I get it. I was new to fandom once, and I know that that can be intimidating! But sometimes there are going to be situations where you will be new to a social setting and have to awkwardly feel things out, and you will make mistakes and be corrected by others. That's just part of life. Thankfully, fandom is a space where folks have really tried to cultivate clear rules of engagement and want to hand it on to new people! There are guides on the "ao3 etiquette" tag of how to leave polite comments and interact in fandom, and there are lots of people who will help you learn the ropes if you ask them nicely.

I promise you, you have the ability to learn the rules of social etiquette in this online space. You will be able to emotionally withstand the minor embarrassment; all of us have before you, and you will too. And if you are not able to emotionally handle someone politely taking you aside and informing you that you're making some social mistakes and how to fix them, then you are not mature enough to participate in fandom spaces.

Now, for folks who've read this far and would like some quick tips on fandom etiquette, here they are. Remember, none of this advice is meant as a criticism, and if you've done some of these things without knowing better, then that's okay, we all make mistakes! This is simply to help us all have a good time in this space and build each other up as readers and writers!

"Don't like, don't read." — The most important rule of fandom. If you come across a fanfic that has something in the summary or the tags that you don't like, then do not click on that fic. If you do choose to read it anyway, you have no right to blame the author for your reading something you didn't enjoy.

"Dead Dove: Do Not Eat." — A more extreme version of "Don't like, don't read," this means that there is content in the fic that most people would find disgusting, frightening or morally objectionable. Do not read that story if you do not want to read that sort of content.

"Ship and let ship." — Other people will like different ships or romantic pairings of characters than you do. Their doing so is not an insult to you or to the characters in question. If you do not want to engage with stories/fanart/etc. of that ship, then do not read those fics, and block those tags here on Tumblr. Do not go onto other people's fics/art/etc. and tell them that they are wrong for liking that ship (This includes if you find the ship morally objectionable; see "DL:DR" and "DD:DNE" above.)

Tagging – If you are a writer, make sure to tag your story appropriately. This includes the romantic ships (indicated with a slash, / ) and the friendship ships (indicated with an & or the word "and"). It also includes things like graphic depictions of violence, non-consensual or dubiously consensual sexual content, characters who are under the age of eighteen engaging in sexual situations, and major character death. It also includes "Dead Dove: Do Not Eat" (see above), which you should include as a tag if you have content in your fic that the majority of people would find disgusting, frightening or morally objectionable.

Rating – Make sure to rate your story appropriately. If there is explicit sexual content or graphic violence in your story, it should be rated as "mature" or "explicit." Do not label it as "teen" or "general" (or K, K+ or T on FF.net). If there is any sexual content or more-than-cartoon-violence in your story, it should not be rated as "general" (or K or K+).

Bookmarking — Be aware that unless you set the bookmark to "private," the author can read any comments or tags you leave on the bookmark.

Commenting — Almost all writers love comments, and many writers depend on comments for their motivation to continue a story. Leaving comments is both a great way to show a writer that you enjoy their story, as well as provide the writer with motivation to keep writing! A comment can be as elaborate as you like and list every detail you loved about the story, or as simple as "this was good, I really liked it!" Either of those is fine. Keyboard smashes are also fine, as are emojis if you're too shy to write a full comment.

Commenting on Older Stories — Is absolutely fine, and in fact highly appreciated!

Demanding an Update — Do not, however, demand that a writer update quickly or ask them when the next chapter will be. Writers are doing this for free, and demanding an update is considered impolite at best and guilt-tripping at worst. (Examples: saying "This is really good, excited for more!" is fine, since this does not put a timed expectation on the writer. Saying "This is really good, when is the next update!" is considered mildly impolite, and simply writing "Update" is considered highly rude. It is seen as demanding another free gift right after you've received one.)

Concrit/Constructive Criticism — Different writers' mileage will vary on how much they like constructive criticism, so best practice is to check their author's notes, summary, or author page to see if they say they are okay with concrit. If they do not say so, then default to assuming they don't want concrit.

If you do provide constructive criticism, make sure to include at least two compliments as well (preferably more). State the criticism politely and briefly.

Also, be aware that an author might disagree with your advice and choose not to take it. This is not a slight against you personally, and you should not treat it as such.

Do not offer criticism that is not meant to be constructive or help the author grow in their writing skills.

Do not offer "constructive criticism" about you disliking things the author has clearly tagged or noted in the summary. That is not constructive criticism, that is just flaming. (See "DL:DR" above.)

And finally: Never Ascribe to Maliciousness What Can Be Attributed To Ignorance. — If someone is rude to you, remember that they might be new to the space and not be aware of the rules of etiquette. Politely inform them that they've screwed up, and assume that everyone is well-intentioned until they prove otherwise.

And there you have it! By following the above advice, you can help to build up a thriving fan culture of happy writers and happy readers. Remember, we're all here to enjoy our favorite works together and create fan content for them, so let's all work together to create a pleasant digital space for one another. :)

[lifeontoast]

Have I Found You?

 

Edward Nashton x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used)

 

SUMMARY: Edward thinks he has found his soulmate at long last.


A/N: a little something for my Eddie/Riddler fans - enjoy! I’m pretty proud of this one. Feel free to drop me any other Paul Dano requests if you have them.

 

Trigger warnings: traumatic past mildly implied, mugging

 

…

EDWARD’S POV

 

It’s her. I know it. She’s my angel sent down from Heaven. She’s made for me. Me, who has been so loveless my entire, miserable existence.

 

When I saw her in the diner yesterday, I am not at all ashamed to say I was absolutely transfixed by her totally mesmerising beauty. She was the purest, prettiest creature to bless these disgusting Gotham streets. What on earth is she doing here? Still, I can protect her from that. Well, Edward might not be able to, but Riddler certainly can. Just as soon as I get her to notice me. I know that she’ll love me when she gets to know me! There’s a word, a word I can’t quite grasp…

 

I’m going back to the diner tonight; she might be there again.

 

NORMAL POV

 

It’s him. You know it. He’s your angel sent down from Heaven. He’s made for you. You, who have been so loveless your entire, miserable existence.

 

When you saw that cute guy at the diner yesterday, it took everything you had not to go over and introduce yourself right away. He was far too good looking for someone like you, or so you thought. His transparent glasses rested on his nose in such an adorable manner, and even from a distance you could see his forest green eyes sparkling magically. Soft brown hair flopped over his forehead as he bent over his pumpkin pie, and what looked to be a puzzle book. Gorgeous and smart. He was perfect. All too aware that you were gazing shamefully, staring even, you looked away, a slight blush on your cheeks.

 

You’re going back to the diner tonight; he might be there again.

 

TIMESKIP TO LATER THAT DAY…

 

It was time. You were going to head to the diner, in the hopes that the gorgeous man would be there again. He had to be. The servers always seemed to know him by name (he was a regular!), though you didn’t know what name. You’d have to ask him that later. Walking down the streets (carefully, always carefully, as who knew what was lurking in those dark alleyways), you noticed a scuffle up ahead of you. Approaching cautiously, you tried to assess the situation. It was a mugging! Some poor guy was having his wallet stolen right in front of you. 

 

Sprinting up to the guy, you prised the mugger’s huge hands off the man and took the wallet back, finally punching him square in the face. He fell to the ground groaning. It was only as you looked at the man who had been victim to the attack that you realised who it was. It was the man from the diner, shaking like a leaf and looking astonished. Even when scared he didn’t look any less gorgeous. His green eyes were wide behind his wonky glasses, and even wider when he noticed it was you who stood in front of him. He bent his head to look at the grimy pavement instantly, cheeks turning red as a tomato.

‘Thank you!’ the man said, daring to steal a glance at you at last. ‘You saved me!’

‘It’s no problem, really.’ You smiled back. ‘Hey, didn’t I see you at the diner yesterday? Let’s go there now, to recover a little.’

The man nodded shakily. ‘Actually, I was heading there when that scumbag attacked me. By the way, I never caught your name... I, um, I’m Edward.’ 

‘Y/N.’ you said simply, starting to walk towards the diner. Edward followed behind you, smiling to himself. Pretty name for a pretty guy, you thought.

 

EDWARD’S POV

 

I was just on my way to the diner to see if that ethereal angel would be there when some idiot decided to mug me for my wallet. It was just a shame that Riddler wasn’t there; he could have killed the man in seconds. Instead, weak, puny, Edward had to cope with him all on his own. I was so tired, I was about to just give him my wallet when someone came running over, and started fighting the guy for me! Finally, punching the man to the ground, I turned to look at my saviour, when I saw the woman from the diner yesterday. So she was an angel! She had been sent there to save me, I just knew it. My eyes widened in disbelief, and I blushed terribly, looking at my feet. She saved me! I thanked her, and she offered to take me to the diner to recover. I asked her name, and she replied with the most heavenly name I’d ever heard: Y/N. It suited her perfectly. 

 

I felt myself fall for her straight away, my heart pounding crazily every time I looked at her beautiful face. When I saw her for the first time yesterday, I just knew she was the one for me! She could never like someone like me, though. I was ugly, and she was stunning. I was weak, she was strong. I was a devil, a worthless sinner, she was an angel. My angel. There was that word again, still just out of my reach…

 

We started on our way to the diner.

 

NORMAL POV

 

You sat down on one of the stools in front of the counter, and Edward sat beside you.

‘Edward, hello! Pumpkin pie?’ the friendly server asked him with a grin, and he nodded.

‘One for Y/N too, please. And two coffees.’ He replied quietly. Looking at you for approval of this order, you smiled gracefully. She nodded, and turned to get your food and drink. You and Edward whiled away the hours chatting about your lives, in between bites of pie and sips of coffee. You felt sure that you were in love with Edward, but were worried that he didn’t feel the same way. Your heart sped up, and your palms were clammy with nerves. All your life, you had never met anyone quite like Edward. He was quiet, yet charming and chivalrous. Beginning to let your mind wander, you pictured your and his life together. Edward would definitely make a brilliant husband, father, grandfather. His shy kindness endeared you to him infinitely, and you saw that he would never let you lift a finger while you were with him. No, that’s ridiculous! You told yourself to get over this pathetic little crush, not knowing that he felt the same way entirely. He definitely had a nice girl waiting for him at home, right? In fact, you probably shouldn’t be keeping him from her.

 

You decided not to pursue your feelings any further, not wanting to ruin your newfound friendship. Well, there are certain things you cannot share with another person without becoming friends with them, and saving someone from a mugging is one of them.

‘So, Edward, anyone waiting for you back at home?’ you asked, as casually as possible, secretly desperate that there wasn’t anybody. You just had to know.

‘Me? No, of course not!’ he laughed a little too loudly, seemingly wanting to prove eagerly that he was single. Strange. Now that he mentioned it, he did give you the slight impression that he had never been with anyone at all. Something about the twinkle of innocence and inexperience in those emerald eyes.

‘What about you?’ he asked, an audibly sad note in his voice.

You’d been free as air for a while now. You told him so. He looked strangely relieved. He smiled that beautiful, shy smile again.

‘So, Edward, what do you do for a job?’ you asked curiously. You couldn’t work out just by his appearance what he did, although you were sure it would be something nerdy.

‘I, um, I’m a forensic accountant, yourself?’ he replied.

You knew it. Edward was a little nerd! This endeared you to the man even further. You told him what you did, and he nodded, looking a little tense, zoned-out even. You were slightly worried, and were about to ask him if he was okay, when he suddenly exploded.

‘But I hate it there! They all call me Ed-weird, and make fun of me for liking puzzles and “being weird”. It’s not fair! I always have loved my riddles, but they just don’t understand them like I do. They’re so exciting, it gives me such a thrill when I solve one, makes me feel so powerful. Powerful enough to shut them up, to tell them that I’m not who they think I am. I’m not weird! Even in school they’d make fun of me, and at the orphanage too. It was so horrible there! We were always hungry; there was never enough for everyone, and in the winter, it was so cold… if only the Gotham Renewal fund had been used as it should have been, instead of a private money tree for those rich scumbags we call politicians and leaders!’ he seemed like he’d wanted to say all that to someone for a very long time. Breathing heavily, he glanced up at you carefully over his glasses, wincing slightly in embarrassment at his outburst, trying to gauge your reaction. Risking everything, you reached out and placed your hand over his shaky one, to comfort him. You threw him a sympathetic glance, and he blushed and smiled ever-so-slightly in return.

 

EDWARD’S POV

 

I was having such a great time at the diner with Y/N. I was falling deeper and deeper with every passing second, and felt ashamed at myself. How could she ever like me back? She asked me what I do, and I told her. But there was something I wanted to say to her, something to tell her. Something I’d wanted to tell anyone, anyone at all who would listen, to be honest. Anybody else would look at me like a rat and get up and leave in disgust. But she was different. She wasn’t like all my co-workers (if you could call them that; they hardly did any work) or strangers on the street. I had a feeling that Y/N would understand me, after all, she was my angel. Of course she’d understand. 

 

It all came out in a rush. I hadn’t meant it to be like that! She looked a little stunned when I’d finished, but, surprisingly, she placed her warm, soft hand over mine. She smiled, and I melted. My heart blew up in a supernova. She was just perfect. She looked into my eyes like she loved me, loved me! I finally knew the word I had been grasping at for hours now. 

 

Soulmate.

 

…

 

A/N: as usual, thanks so much for reading! You guys rock! Once again, feel free to drop me any other Paul requests if you have them.

[asherisawkward]

What did you think of Season 3 and its episodes? Also, do you think fans who weren't satisfied with Belos, Caleb, or Wittewife being ungrateful? I saw on Twitter that people who are upset are because Philip, Caleb, and Wittewife got more compared to other characters. Also that we didn't need to see a flashback because we already know from the Hollow Mind portraits what happened. Finally, what do you think of the Wittewife interpretations? How do you interpret her?

Get ready, because you’re in for a doozy of a rant, because Season Three was full of mixed feelings for me.

Thanks To Them:

I loved TTT because it felt incredibly suspenseful and horrifying to watch Luz and Hunter search for Philip. The exploration of Hunter’s personality and interests are heartwarming, and I can completely relate to him about wolves. It’s also interesting to see the ways Hunter grows and reacts to his Grimwalker situation and the similarities between him and Caleb.

Masha was obviously amazing, and I loved their depiction of the Wittebane Brothers’ Tale. I did notice that the local legend supposedly took place about twenty years before Gravesfield was reported to have been founded on the sign. That may be a sign that their story was incorrect, but who knows.

What really interested me was the implications of the story. Philip was an orphan with very little connection to his parents due to losing them when he was very young. Clearly, he was heavily dependent upon Caleb for his sense of safety and security, as well as his stable point to interact with the world. With Caleb leaving with Evelyn, Philip must have been left traumatized and terrified.

And Caleb…If Evelyn truly wasn’t evil, then he abandoned his brother by choice. It doesn’t really matter if he thought he’d be better off. His brother needed him, and he left.

Evelyn shares less of the blame, in my opinion, because Caleb might not have mentioned that he was an older brother or spoken of Philip. I tend to imagine her as a kind but spirited person who likely made Caleb realize there was more to life than the strict rules of Puritan society. She would likely have been a friend before they became lovers.

With that analysis done, I’ll get back to TTT.

During the possession scene, I was pretty conflicted. The animation was beautiful, and the voice acting was amazing. But I feel like it was needlessly cruel to Hunter to possess him, scar him for life, kill his therapy animal, and re-grow his hair so that he looked like his Ortet when his whole arc was about becoming his own person and learning he is not Caleb. Additionally, I’m mildly bothered by the writers making him want to carve palismen like Caleb when he had already demonstrated interest in sewing.

For The Future:

Philip’s travels were so interesting. It was horrific to watch him slowly fall apart as he desperately searched for a new body, even possessing an unfinished grimwalker to try to do the job. Some story boards and behind the scenes content revealed that Caleb and the Golden Guard ghosts were, in fact, hallucinations.

This was extremely impactful to me because it indicates that Philip had some inkling that what he’s doing is wrong, but he has fallen into the sink cost fallacy: the idea that something can’t be wrong because you invested so much time, energy, and resources into it. To put it simply, his guilt is driving him mad, but he has to continue because he knows there is no redemption for him.

New Hexside was okay. It was mildly annoying due to the change in tone feeling forced and disrupting compared to the extremely serious tone of Philip’s section. It was cool to see the way society had turned out for those who survived. I adore that it was an absolute mess, because it’s incredibly accurate for something run by teenagers.

I disliked the bit with Kikimora because it felt like a retcon of her arc in Kings Tide. She had been so obsessed with pleasing and serving someone in the pursuit of approval and greater power that she forgot she was also in danger from her hero’s plans. To restate it a way I’ve heard, “she was so focused on the boot she had on others’ necks that she didn’t notice the one on her own.” It was very gratifying to see her get retribution against Philip and play a part in saving the Isles. So FTF felt like a backslide to her.

Boscha was an interesting parallel to Philip in feeling abandoned by someone she cared about. So she attempted to force that person to stay. However, she is able to move on and accept that things have changed. It’s what would have happened if Philip had been able to let go, and I like that.

Willow’s breakdown was understandable, but not handled the best, and I dislike that she was “saved” when she doesn’t really like that sort of thing. It would have been better if Hunter and Gus had talked to her and let her slowly unload her feelings instead of being “saved” by Hunter.

I also dislike where their arcs end with them holding pinkies. Don’t get me wrong, I think that Huntlow is adorable and has a lot of potential. I just think that should be dealt with after they are more emotionally stable.

King and the Collector’s story was the least interesting to me, though I think the “new” Collector is adorable. I loved the dynamic they had as a somewhat malicious and irreverent being that will poke and prod at anything for some amusement. It really made him feel like a threat, and I liked that.

The new interpretation revealed by the interactions with King was sweet but less compelling to follow. I would have found it much more interesting for King to help him slowly come to understand human/demon/witch morals and the way what they did was wrong.

Philip’s tricking of the Collector felt like a little bit of a stress, but potentially in character as someone who was desperate to regain the power he had likely lost due to Vee. King’s dialogue for that bit felt kind of forced, but I can excuse it.

Watching and Dreaming:

Oh crud, here’s the real doozy. Watching and Dreaming was the biggest let down for me. It was stunning visually, and the animation was fluid as a whole. It looked amazing, and I was thrilled with the episode the first time I watched it. But the more I thought on it, the more issues I’ve found.

I thought the nightmare sequence was going to be far more significant than it was. I was hoping for a deep analysis on the ways that Luz and Philip mimicked each other in their desire to be the hero, protect the people they care about, and escape the unsatisfactory reality that they had previously lived in.

I thought we would see Eda face and potentially live out some of her greatest fears. Maybe she would accidentally hurt King or Luz. It would have been interesting to see her grapple this during an intense battle that would decide the fate of the Isles! It was disappointing for that to be over in fewer than ten minutes without any of the depth. I don’t really have much to say for King’s nightmare sequence.

On a far more minor note, I disliked Philip’s design during this episode. Yeah, Kaiju Philip was interesting looking, but he doesn’t carry any of the same weight or fear that he used to. The lack of detail and speech from him felt off, because he is a character who puts so much weight into words and manipulation, and we never really get to see him.

I also dislike the way that his color scheme changed. I really liked the dark green and glowing blue thing he had going on. It felt like ooze and rot, like the decay and destruction of a person’s very soul until it’s so twisted it’s no longer human. The lighter green feels sickly, and it gives me the same feeling I get when I touch a grainy eraser. I shudder, and I don’t know why. However, that’s about all on Philip’s design, now to the more major concerns and thoughts.

Luz’s death would have been far more effective if she had died more slowly and if people had noticed she was dead. Without anyone else acknowledging it, I just felt kind of hollow for the whole thing.

I thought that Papa Titan was cool, but I really dislike what he did to the narrative. This fight was set up to be horrific and challenging, that it would take every ounce of the characters’ strength. And King’s parent just kind of took that away.

Additionally, she denied all the buildup that was put into Philip’s character. Philip was set up to be tragic and sympathetic. It implied that anyone could become an extremist and hurt others because they got in too deep, and I related to Philip a lot as a character, as well as Hunter. To see him called just plain evil was disrespectful to the rest of the work put in and everything Wittebro fans hoped to see.

Some people believe that the backstory we got was sufficient for Philip’s character. Respectfully, I disagree. The pictures that were in the background of Hollow Mind were exactly that—background. It implied a tragic character that went off the deep end when he lost the only person he loved.

It suggests that, in a better world, Philip could have moved past his biases and the manipulation he experienced the way Boscha and Caleb did. He could have had a happy ending and been the person that Luz thought he was. By saying he was just evil and ignoring his backstory, Papa Titan and Luz do the exact same thing that Philip does: dehumanize the enemy and say that the group/person should be killed without remorse. It also dehumanizes or hurts those that connect with him due to religious trauma or other reasons.

It feels wrong when only a scene ago, Luz was telling the Collector that things weren’t that simple. But now, they magically are.

Papa Titan also breaks all of the themes that were set up earlier: the idea that you have to choose yourself, that there is no divine being that is going to make you special, and that Luz got where she did because she was open minded and hard working. By making the Titan gift her the runes, it discredits all the hard work she did and supports Philip’s comment that the reason he couldn’t get glyphs easily was because the Titan was making it difficult (as opposed to him being a closed minded individual who couldn’t connect to the Isles).

Luz didn’t really have a choice, and it’s never really addressed the way that the found family theme is ignored as a result of her being chosen. It also implied that all the growth she did over the previous two seasons was pointless, because she was the chosen one.

After that, the tone is distinctly more action based and exciting as opposed to the horrific and stressful encounter I was expecting. It felt like the fight wasn’t being taken seriously by the characters or the writers, and it made it hard to stay invested or take the stakes seriously.

The fight could have been the whistle Hexsquad taking on Philip and supporting each other. Hunter could have helped get people out of the way when they were being attacked. Gus could have distracted Philip and help people escape or even left him open to attack. Willow and Amity could have grappled him and harmed him. Camila could have given it her all with the bat. It could have really pushed the theme of community and connection and the way they impact people.

Finally, I want to talk about one last thing: Philip’s death. I laughed at it the first time I saw it. It was amusing and more than a touch satisfying, but it’s not what Philip deserved.

Philip was a tragic, hurt character who sacrificed his health, his morals, and everything about himself in the pursuit of protecting humanity from witches. He was evil and irredeemable, and I do not want him to be redeemed.

I wanted him to learn that it was all for nothing and that his guilt was justified, that he was fed lies by the people he admired and told what he did was right when it wasn’t. I wanted to see him break down at the knowledge of his actions and their consequences, the sins he committed. Then, I wanted him to die.

In later watching, the scene where Raine, Eda, and King stomp him to death feels cruel. I agree that he needed to die, but Philip couldn’t fight back. It doesn’t feel like something that good guys would do. And Luz just watching them do that felt wrong.

Epilogue:

I liked the epilogue as a whole, except for a bit on Hunter. The thing with him and Willow was cute, but he didn’t cut his hair again, and he went on to carve palisman. I feel as if it violates everything previously set up about him choosing to be himself, and that makes me a bit sad.

In Conclusion:

I think that the people who weee unsatisfied with the Wittebane lore have every right to be. It was the most impactful series of events for the future of the Isles. It was built up for ages and never carried through. Obviously, my opinion would change if there was a series or movie on them.

Evelyn was “spring” to Caleb, as she introduced him the first life and light that allowed him to be who he wanted to be.

Season Three had amazing animation and visual depiction, but it fumbled on the themes it had previously established and some of the character development.

I am so sorry for rambling/ranting so much on this. I hope I haven’t scared or upset you. Have a great day!

[ussjellyfish]

Here's an ask for you! Was there a specific on-screen moment when you started shipping Michael/Laira?

Oh thank you!!

They have an ARC. They have an on screen arc, and I'm so accustomed to making things up (Beverly Crusher/Kathryn Janeway), or working with a handful of episodes that don't have an arc (Maleficent/Regina Mills).

Long post!

Michael is finally captain, which has been a long time coming, and she loves it, she's good at it. Season 4 is peak Michael.

I have wanted to have a ship for Michael since the show started, because I adore Michael, and nothing really hit me until Laira and Michael started talking to each other.

Episode 1 - wrecking ball era

They don't really like each other at first. Laira is "using a moment that should be about the cadets" and Michael is "a huge swing of the pendulum" who doesn't understand that sometimes she might lose.

Michael hasn't lost for awhile, so Laira has a point. Michael needs to save everyone (this is a really common rock star captain thing).

And fate has handed Michael a whole set of events where she was literally the only person in the galaxy who could fix it. Michael found a way to peacefully end the Klingon war without going as dark as parts of Starfleet wanted too.

Michael and her crew literally saved the future by going ahead in time, preventing control from getting the sphere data. It's a huge sacrifice, and they were willing to make it, and it's also a huge win. Everyone was saved.

They have this really honest, almost brutal conversation, where they both have very valid points and they're polite to each other, but they are in opposite places. Michael wants to bring everyone home. She doesn't want to mitigate life and death. Laira thinks she might need too.

And they're from very different places. Michael's from this incredibly optimistic time, where bad things happened (the Klingon war, losing Captain Georgiou, Control tries to evolve and Starfleet really grasps at straws) but the bad things are brief, and traumatic, but they persevere. They're rebuilding after the war and maybe they can be allies with the Klingons some day: Michael has retained her hope, and for good reason. Things improve, she has solutions. Her skillset is phenomenal.

Laira grew up in a universe with scarcity. She was a cargo pilot, and didn't go to the Science Academy, or the Academy on Earth, or even really see the Federation or Starfleet as what they were in Michael's time. Starfleet has hundreds of ships where Michael came from, Starfleet is a force for hope. Laira's whole life has been in a galaxy where Starfleet is tiny, and can't help, and they try, but the needs are so great, and everyone is so isolated that hope is a harder thing.

They have a whole set of conversations about leadership, and balance, and hope, and Laira pushes Michael to be better in the beginning.

They start out standing together, and end standing on opposite ends of a table. The blocking is fun, their whole conversation is so fun. They're an mildly antagonistic allies to lovers at this point. They believe in the Federation, but have differing approaches to leadership, and don't have a high opinion of each other but the mutual respect is there.

I rewatch this episode when they need banter, or I need to have them argue. I desperately wanted them to talk more after this episode. I loved Laira immediately, but I didn't write fic for them yet.

So I had interest, but I wasn't shipping shipping yet.

Episode 4 is when I did that.

In episode 4, mutual respect era, Laira conspires with Vance to get Michael and Saru to come help her with diplomacy. It's an fun insight into Laira's personality that she asked Vance to pretend to be sick, or told him to, because she wasn't sure if she wanted to ask Michael and Saru directly.

She moves pieces, and Michael's a really powerful piece.

Laira (and T'Rina) perform their political theater (and you find out at the end that they've been friends for a long time, and kind of set it up together, which is also interesting. I like the world building in this ep.

The shipping comes when Michael goes to convince Laira that they shouldn't give up. Michael and Saru come up with a plan, and it's a very Michael plan. It wouldn't work if she wasn't who she is.

Bringing Michael in is Laira's last ditch gamble, and it works. Michael throws herself at the problem and comes up with an elegant solution and proves that she is actually so adept at the thing she doesn't like. (politics).

(the table is BACK and they're at opposite sides again, but they move closer to each other! There's a whole meta I need to write about this table.)

The last scene of this episode is the one that launched my ship. They're achieved the mission. Ni'Var is coming back into the Federation. Saru and T'Rina are flirting so they're both amused by that. They're alone together and there's a fire and Ni'Var conference rooms are romantic, pretty lighting.

Laira walks around Michael, and sits on the conference table. It's one of the first times we see her relax. She sits down, not because the meeting is sitting, but because she wants to. Maybe when it's just Michael she can?

It's this shift in power and an opening and vulnerability because she must have had such a long day, and Michael saved it, and she doesn't have to be the President for Michael.

They open up to each other! Laira complements Michael for being good at politics even though she hates it. Laira admits that Vance wasn't really sick (in a roundabout way, she's coy and flirty about it, so it's not a real admission, which suits her).

Michael looks at her like THAT. Sonequa has the most beautiful face and this looks absolutely destroys me.

Laira tells Michael that she had to protect President T'Rina (who warned her that the negotiations were going to implode).

They have this exchange.

Michael walks over to her. "If you wanted my help, you could have just asked me."

They lean on the table together. Laira bites her lip. "Truth be told, I wasn't sure you were the right person for the job, but I'm glad you were."

"I appreciate that. I know transparency isn't always possible in your position but it is what I need, to best serve you and the Federation. So if you could be more forthcoming in the future, I'd appreciate that as well."

"Understood, Captain."

So much happens here. Michael says what she needs, and she's direct and polite. She has the most impeccable etiquette and always calls Laira 'ma'am'. Here she doesn't. Laira listens, nods, accepts what Michael needs and she's the one who uses her rank as a sign of respect.

Then they shake hands, which Laira initiates and it's beautifully shot with the fire in the background, AND Laira covers Michael's hand with hers before she leaves. The music swells. There are strings and horns!! (it's so fun!).

(Also this was on during touch starved COVID era and holding hands felt like a BIG DEAL).

Laira takes Michael's request to heart and asks her for help the next time she needs it.

I shipped them, so very much after this. Laira's not in the next two episodes, but she is in episode 7!

Episode 7 - power couple era.

Michael teases Laira about wanting Earth back in the Federation, Laira admits that her mother's family is from Earth and her mother never got to see it. (Vulnerability! ambition! Michael reading her so easily).

Michael stands next to Laira through the negotiations. Laira tells Michael that she has to be neutral but she thinks Michael can steer the negotiation, if she's ready for that.

(transparency!)

Michael gives an fantastic speech for peaceful first contact, and they're successful. (Laira's hands her are really cute).

Then there's "Captain, I need you with me" and I was so gone. They work together so well to accomplish things. Laira sees Michael's incredible abilities. Michael reads what Laira is thinking. They achieve something they both want together.

Episode 8 - not many people have the ability to surprise me, captain.

The episode starts out with Laira livid. She paces, her diction is razor sharp, and she fidgets with her hands. It's the most unsettled we've seen her so far.

Laira not being able to deal with something and Michael trying to help was what set off my 170,000+ word WIP that is over two years old. Something unexpected should happen and Laira should be mad about it was the starting point.

(also the episode bookends with this shot, which is really clever).

I have a whole set of thoughts about episode 10 and the end of the season, but this was how I got started. This look helped. Michael surprises Laira by how competent she is. Michael does looking several steps ahead thing and turns a loss into a win and it's very coy and fun.

Laira wings her hands later in engineering and that obviously meant she needed to go through something with michael and the Discovery crew could help and...

I did the most shipper me thing I could possibly do and started a fic where she got pregnant.

Thank you so much for asking!!! this was so fun to put together. (and took days).

Special mention to the way Laira can make "captain" both a compliment and an insult, depending on her mood. (it's the other half of my Michael saying "ma'am" kink.

[vaaters]

not to rant on my reblog blog but i have nowhere else to put these feelings

no offence but i feel like it was extremely inappropriate of certain people i considered really good friends to suddenly just tell me i needed to Get Out because they didnt want to "deal with that" (me and jolly knowing each other and later/currently courting) like what?

and then i find out awhile after leaving

apparently people shit talked about me behind my back? like said i was gullible and being abused without even asking me or assessing the situation in a different persons view

like, my guy, you realize you can know someone, who knows someone, that you dont agree with? you know you can be friends with someone who is with someone you dont agree with, right?

right?

guys?

am i crazy?

am i the only one?

what kind of Good Friends suddenly throws you out, like - throws you out. - because of that. after i knew them for what, 7 years? 6 years? i dont know. but that feels extremely inappropriate. you suddenly turn your back on me while pretending to be mildly concerned over me while you also shit talk my name. that kinda really hurts. i dont know. ive been thinking about this a lot.

for a long time.

it feels bad. i trusted you guys! i trusted you guys... you knew me as a child, technically, at 17. i grew up with you basically! i thought you understood me, you know? we did all this stuff,

one of you two even played games with me a lot. and then i find out later your people also disliked me and talked bad about me (because i had autistic habits? why didnt you tell me my behavior of being distracted by a shiny thing was bad for the missions?)

and the other one of you, your nice friend-server. or i considered your server nice. i trusted that server too. i poured my heart and soul out on the server. and i never once mentioned jolly out of respect. and then once you catch wind sometime later, you decide you dont want to deal with that anymore. even though i never did anything wrong. even though i never hurt you, i never crossed you, i never did anything. i thought we were pals.

why would you guys just throw me away like that? what did i ever do to you in a personal way? know someone who you know that you dont like? what kind of crime is that?

i dont think we were good friends after all if you didnt actually care enough about me to say i was being abused and then not check on me or ask me how i was feeling about these things you didnt like.

i dont think we were good friends if you cared more about the feelings of someone you knew that you knew didnt like the person, jolly, that i knew, without talking to me about it past guilt tripping me.

well, except the third person i didnt mention before. opa. wow. that rant he threw into my dms at random after i left flora owel server. that was cringe. the capslock of rage. the stalking-my-twitter-for-years-old-posts and then saying that what happened with my pedophile, predator ex, will happen to me again. thats cool. thats nice of you opa. thanks for that. ill remember that one forever for sure. that wont cause serious traumatic memories to pop back up for me or anything. thanks dude. please dont talk to me again opa.

[kandyrezi]

Do you have any Samekichi x reader fluffy headcanons? If you wanna go a bit smutty I don’t really mind, I just NEED more content of this dude.

—unwinding;

prompt: ❝ get the hell out of my bed! ❞ in which one of wadanohara's familiars, a jellyfish with an unfortunate inability to control the stings of her tentacles, has an even more unfortunate crush on a fellow compatriot. | canon-divergent AU

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It no longer flashed an acrid red that had surfaced from the horizon, and there were no more tangled limbs of bones, no cadavers resurrected from the blackest depths. The sapphire waves had returned to the sea, comforting and near, waving and glistening around the kingdom of the sea.

Tatsumiya required Wadanohara's aid for the cast pearls, to heal the barriers as soon as possible after the enemy had been sealed for good. You had seen the reluctance in her sorrowful eyes, yet she pushed it all down; duty over feelings came first and foremost.

Aside from some cuts and bruises, body tattered like he'd been trampled over, with a big gash running over his right eye - he is still living, despite everything.

Despite everything... Wadanohara seems different. You all felt the aftermath of what had occurred, but the sea witch seemed especially... different. Like something had happened to her. You're one of her familiars, and you're so sure the others can sense it too - yet you couldn't put it into words without having to ask about it further.

(your closest friend, Fukami, certainly would not, because he isn't the type to pry into others' emotions. but... Memoca shares a close relationship to your master since the very beginning, so hopefully she would be there to comfort her emotionally when she required it.)

"Don't worry, you can count on me to keep an eye on him. He's safe with me. Familiar's honor and duty." you tell her, looking at the asleep body next to you.

Your witch smiles at you in solemn gratitude. "We'll be back as soon as we're able to."

Fukami no longer regards your actions with exasperation (considering past events, that was putting it mildly) like he had done before, but instead with gratitude this time—and you're thankful too the interpersonal situation has resolved.

Wadanohara had left him some healing tea for when he'll finally wake. You are left on your own devices, spending some time just staring outside the window, listening to sounds of waves gently seesawing against the boat. Samekichi had passed out almost instantaneously the moment his body had hit the bed, barely able to get any words out beforehand.

Aside from gazing outside or staring at his handsome face, you busied yourself in remaining time with preparing healing medicine; measuring about ten grams of leaves to add to a teapot—when it's finished brewing, you carefully sit at the corner on the bed where his legs rest.

He seems to be dreaming—but it doesn't appear to be a nice dream, from the way he keeps cringing and twitching with his eyes squinted shut to hard, as if in pain too agonizing. You hate it. You want to take away the terrors, but you don't know how. The sea of death invasion had been traumatizing for all the denizens of the blue sea, especially to those whom had lost family members or friends during the conflict...

Inching closer, you climb on right next to him, and your tentacles wrap around his upper and lower torso once your body is side by side with his. He shudders at first, but seems to have calmed down, even if just a bit, momentarily... melting into warmth of newfound touch.

A little bit of time passes in silence. Dozing off doesn't do much for you either as you keep rousing yourself from a nap, only able to get momentary shut-eye before jerking awake at the slightest sound or shadow at the corner of an eye.

The threat has passed not too long ago, you're understandably still on edge, and it lurks in deepest corners of your mind.

Who knows if they are really gone...

You feel something shifting underneath.

Your self-preservation instincts kick in directly—tentacles all stinging what they're attached onto, which so happens to be a fellow familiar and your crush. The shark trembles, eyes slightly twitching, as you attempt to untangle yourself from around him in mild panic, you accidentally sting his arms and sides again, sending jolts of shock, albeit weak, through his limbs.

"O-Ow!" The shark groans quietly, befuddled at the cramped, uncomfortable position, trying his damnest to open his one good, unscathed eye, "What, y-you—"

it takes him a second to realize where he is, as he finally catches a glimpse of you, startled when he recognizes you—

—and straight away, he's shouting.

"G-Get the hell out of my bed!"

He's beyond shocked as he struggles to form distance in a small bed, and your body slithers gracelessly over the covers as your tailbone hits the hardwood floors.

"Ow... owow..." the grouchy shark groans, falling back down after failed attempt of trying to sit, clutching the back of his skull as he groans out, "m' head hurts..."

Seems sudden yelling after jerking awake (no thanks to his fellow familiar) is not doing him much good. You adjust your uncomfortable posture so that you're kneeling instead.

"Ah, hey... Kichi... you've been sleeping for quite a while. Try not to overdo it, alright? Doesn't seem like your body can take too much right now."

"What... are you doing here..."

"Looking after you 'till Wadanohara gets back."

He blinks, the realization of previous events probably re-settling themselves in his mind.

"Is she... alright?"

"Yeah, she's unharmed, as are the others, so no need to worry 'bout her while she's doing her witch duties, for now."

Truthfully, you are happy to finally have a serene moment, amidst the chaos, and after the red-eyed maelstrom almost threatening to engulf the blue sea in her skeletal, decaying hands. You try to not think about it.

He's too dazed and drowsy to really say much. Good! No need to get into a tussle first thing after a war is over, after all. Seems your stings did cause some discomfort to his body just now though. Oops!

"Oh." eyes lighting up, you remember the tea you'd been preparing. Picking up the pot and pouring the liquid into a smaller ceramic up, you carefully hold it up and hand it to him. "Here."

He looks confused, understandably. "What is that..."

"Gyokuro. With some magic healing herbals mixed in it. Was asked to give it to you, so, drink it. You'll feel better!"

He looks hesitant. You persistently push it to his chest. He slowly, begrudgingly accepts the cup.

Your tentacles brush against his hands and he visibly winces and jerks backwards when you shock him by accident, again, and some of the warm tea spills on his hands and on your lap.

"Oh, dang, sorry about that..." you sheepishly apologize, "I wasn't ever really able to control the cnidocyte reactions..."

He glares at you, but it doesn't look too malicious, just mildly annoyed. He doesn't look nearly as menacing as he did before receiving a scarred eye - though it seems better than it did before, he still isn't able to open it.

The both of you sit in quiet contemplation, with only the sound of waves as companion outside the boat where you currently are.

He's not grimly quiet in the same way your best friend is... rather, you noticed (already, back at the rock mountains where the two of you struggled to stay alive), Samekichi grumbles n' scoffs a lot—but his mind definitely seems elsewhere though, the guy hasn't made much of a sound.

Thank the sea gods he wasn't thinking about asking the reason why were you clinging to him in his bed. You do wonder what else he's thinking about though—or rather... whom.

In your heart, you already know, but you're able to keep it sinking to the bottom of your stomach when he addresses you again.

"You're... uh..." he looks at you for a split second, and as you eagerly await for him to finish his sentence. A silent beat.

He quickly looks away when he holds your gaze for too long.

"Ah, no... nevermind... was gonna say nothin'..." he mumbles, his cheeks are aflame, tinting them slight red. "Thanks, anyway… for the drink…"

Well, he is pretty damn cute when he's like this, your thoughts wander and you smile to yourself.

"Wait..." he looks a bit befuddled, disturbance forming in expression, "just... why were you clinging onto me in my bed when I woke up?"

Well, alright, now you have to worm your way out of another embarrassing situation.

: - : - : - : - : - : - :

(a/n: i wrote this in pretty much one sitting. yay, go me! this will get a prequel at some point, as an answer to another request by an anonymous! (* ^ ω ^)

and i sure hope you don't mind that i wrote a one-shot instead of headcanons. reader is a bit of a doofus and does not know how to handle a crush.)