#(so i hope it doesn't sound too far fetched)

[biolumien]

Might I say that the Hoshina x Painter! reader was a brush stroke of genius. It's superb so if its possible, I'd like to request a part two?

Maybe Hoshina gets to go out on a date. And of course, the recruits quickly finding out about this and they sort of try to spy on them while they go about their day. Up to you really. I just live for the concept, and I defo want to see how things play out. Especially since their worlds are so far apart from each other.

He probably doesn't know the first thing about art. And Reader probably knows nothing of Kaijus. Let alone swordsmanship or martial arts. And the sudden match made between them is sure to make rapid news around Tachikawa base because, 'Ayo that's our Vice Captain with the famous painter who just so happened to paint his portrait a few days ago?' AKAKHSKNS such an endearing concept.

notes: insanely good pun. i hope this is okay! part 2 of this fic.

the second stroke

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no warnings apply, i think! let me know, though. word count: 1306

talking to hoshina was–awkward. or so you thought, at least. you couldn’t exchange many words following the panel, apart from saying hi–hoshina had immediately gotten swarmed with questions–what was the relationship between the two of you? what was the meaning behind what you’d said? so you’d managed to find him in the aftermath, pulled him aside and made tentative plans to meet up in the coming days.

you stopped having dreams of your mysterious muse altogether at this point. once in awhile, you thought you might have felt the faint whisper of warmth, the ghosting touch of lips brushed against the side of your face. that had to have been real, right? but the fact that you couldn’t remember your dreams now–if you even had them at all, worried you more th an you’d like to admit.

you’d agreed on a date in a discrete location–but despite that, you held a pretty large parasol in the park, with loose-fitting clothes to disguise the bulk of your figure.

“so it’s true, then?” hoshina asks as the two of you wander the park, past some shady trees. “that’s… i mean, it’s… pretty… ha, i mean, that kind of stuff comes out of a romance novel, no?” 

you like the way the sunlight dapples across his hair, dances across the bridge of his nose. your fingers itch to paint, to scrape a palette knife across a stretch of canvas. 

“it sounds far fetched to me, too,” you mumble, spinning the straw of your drink. “that i would dream of a man from a past life–who… happens to be you. happened. to be you. also in a past life. and i think… well, i–i think we were lovers? or-or something like that.”

“lovers,” hoshina echoes. 

he pauses.

your face feels hot.

“it’s stupid,” you mumble. “i know. i know it is.”

“it’s not,” hoshina says. “i mean–i’m not… a believer. in most of that kind of stuff, but. you painted me.” he laughs. “that’s gotta be proof of something bigger than the both of us. i don’t know if i should be happy or sad that it’s real. like–”

he flexes his hands.

“do you get what i mean? like–like… i’ve been telling myself that-that… i was doing everything within my power–to be the way i was, and then… if there really is some kind of divine providence, pulling us together–some red string of fate, the kind that bonds lovers together–how am i so sure that a god didn’t just decide the limits of my capabilities? i’m not sure… how to feel about it.”

you ponder his words.

“fighting kaiju is… a completely new world, compared to me,” you say. “but i’m sure even if it–even if it was divine providence, you’re doing something only you can do. and–and i think that’s wonderful.”

hoshina’s eyes soften.

“wonderful?” he murmurs. 

“yeah,” you say. “someone–not just someone, but… we’re all… relying on you. that’s something i could never imagine.”

“i mean–” hoshina laughs, brushing a hand across the back of his neck. “i couldn’t imagine painting the way you do. that seems so overwhelming–to conjure things from your imagination and deliver them to the page.”

you shake your head.

“it’s a bit of that, but it’s not completely from my imagination. i do a lot of portraits–with real models, things like that,” you mumble, your face flushing a little bit at his words. “it’s… mm. a complicated progress, but it’s not nearly as physically intensive as you fighting kaiju. i-i read a bit. from some of your press interviews.”

“oh?” hoshina’s eyes widen, and he laughs. “that’s–well, i didn’t… most of those were just–scripted.”

“my press interviews are, too,” you say.

hoshina’s lips quirk up.

“i guess we’re kind of the same, yeah?” hoshina says, nudging you slightly, his hand reaching out to cross the gap between the two of you–of you. he doesn’t intrude further though, even as he crosses the gap—seemingly shy and nervous, worried and careful not to do more until you were okay with it. 

you relax your stance a little, and his hand brushes against yours. 

“i guess so,” you say, blinking up at him. your face feels hot.

you don’t know whether the fluttering in your heart is from you or if it’s from that whisper of a past life, the repeated lines of affection–that it should feel this easy to fall for hoshina, because some version of you did, a stranger-yet-familiar-yet-familiar. hoshina’s expression is somehow fond, and he leans closer before–

he suddenly perks up, his head whirling around, checking the surroundings.

“what’s–” you start, but hoshina raises a hand, glancing at you before raising a finger to his lips. you fall silent, your heart pounding against your throat.

“come out,” hoshina says sharply. “you guys aren’t subtle at all. you’re lucky that kaiju are so stupid.” 

from behind one of the trees, several people come skulking out with lowered heads, as if they were scolded toddlers.

“i told you this was a bad idea,” says a boy with mint green hair, elbowing a taller, older man. the man hangs his head, recoiling dramatically at the boy’s touch. “you can’t get past hoshina at all.”

“in my defense,” the man says apologetically, remorsefully, “i was just curious where he was going… it’s not often he takes days off. you know this.”

“i warned you,” says a woman with her hair drawn up in a tall ponytail. her voice is quiet, but she’s striking–and you wonder what kind of charcoal you might use to sketch out the sharp lines of her face–and then you realize you’ve seen her face scattered across billboards. mina ashiro?

“i love this bit you guys do,” hoshina laughs, archly, “where you talk like i’m not even here. come on. if you want to–hey, put that–put that down. don’t–”

mina lowers her phone as hoshina blurts it out, her face bemused. 

“sorry,” mina says. “force of habit. i keep an album of every moment where you let your goody facade drop. do you want to see?” she looks at you, holding out her phone. “i have some where he’s asle–” “not on the first date,” hoshina says, his voice pitching higher. 

“first date?” the man’s eyes widen. “captain hoshina, you’re on a date? with that artist? the one who drew you?”

your eyes scan between him and hoshina.

“yes,” hoshina says tersely. “is it that weird?”

“no,” the man says. “just–you don’t seem like the romantic… type?”

“i’m not,” hoshina says.

you feel something like cold ice seize your throat.

“but i… i want to try,” hoshina amends, and his hand reaches out for yours, a grasping thread of intent. you entangle your fingers in his, and the weight of his hands feels right. like a preordained fate–you were always meant to find each other, and the weight and feel of his fingers entangling yours, his knuckles tightening as if he was afraid to see you disappear–

that was right.

“if we’re really bonded by fate, anyway,” hoshina says, glancing at you–and your heart seizes in your throat, caught by how earnest he seems– “i want to see it to the end.”

your face heats up.

“it was–it was just a painting,” you mumble. 

“a really good painting,” hoshina adds, and he laughs.

“you guys are cute,” mina says. “but you’re grossing me out. just a little.”

her face is impassive, but the corners of her lips quirk up a little as she says the words.

“oh, how it hurts,” hoshina says dramatically, pulling you closer to him, “to have stirred the ice-cold heart of mina ashiro so.”

and your face flushes again, brighter, but you cling tightly to hoshina like a lifeline, and wonder what shade of red you might use to carve out the feeling of love in your chest.

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 2

I just could not stop thinking about this. Have some more. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Warnings!: Still none! Inexperienced reader! I guess?

Dracule huffed, nose scrunching at the taste of the shoddy peppermint tea that he'd chosen for the cabin boy to fetch him. Across the table, Sengoku raised a brow at the pirate.

“What? Not to your liking, Hawkeye?” He mocked lowly and is swiftly delivered a scathing glare from the yellow-eyed man.

Mihawk sniffs and sets the tea away, done with it, “Not my taste at all, Fleet Admiral,” he drawled. No. The only peppermint tea he wanted was yours, and it had been far too long since Dracule had laid eyes on you. Several weeks too long, in fact.

Sengoku scoffs and sits back in his chair. The warlord meeting had gone about as well as he had thought, with only Mihawk and Doflamingo showing. The pink idiot had shown his ass for half an hour before bugging out, stating he had more important matters to attend to.

“Whatever. Get the hell out of here, Mihawk,” The Fleet Admiral grouched, and the warlord happily rose and left without a word. Hawkeye went straight to his ship and hoisted the sail before turning east. It would take several days for him to reach your island.

To say that Mihawk is in a shit mond when he finally arrives at your island would be an understatement. The seas had not been kind to him, and it had left him soaked to the bone and desperate for a hot cup of tea.

The warlord doesn't waste any time, tossing his anchor and flashing to the shore. A permanent scowl is etched across his face as he stomps through the underbrush until he arrives at your quaint cottage. He shakes himself off any water once he stands under your stoop and then raises his hand to knock.

Dracule listens, sharp ears picking up the sound of Hank's nails on the hardwood and then the soft steps of your feet. The door is yanked open, and the furious scowl on your face disappears the moment you lay eyes on the soaked bird in front of you.

“Mihawk? Shit, come in here. You're soaked!” You grab his jacket without thinking and tug the warlord inside quickly. You flutter away and come back with a couple of fluffy towels that you hand over to him, “Gimme your hat and jacket. I'll hang it by the fireplace.”

Dracule huffed and found himself doing as you ordered. He strips off his hat and shrugs out of his coat to hand it over. His lips curl when he sees your eyes flick over his body and your face pink up. You turn and leave before he can decide to do something about it. He huffs and then takes advantage of the towels that you gave him.

You come back to see him stoking the embers of the fireplace, towel hanging around his shoulders, “Thank you, Darling,” he murmurs and hands you the one that he'd used to dry his hair.

You clear your throat, “Ah. You're welcome. Is everything okay?” You ask and take the towel back to the bathroom before you begin to clear away the seating, tucking away the gardening books you have spread out. You had not expected to see Mihawk so soon, not that you were complaining.

Hawkeye dips his head in a nod, “Fine. The weather was not kind during my trip here.” Dracule assures you and sits when you've cleared up a spot. He examines the books you've got scattered around, sharp brow ticking up in interest, “Botany?”

You nod, smile crossing your face as you nod, “Yep. I know enough, but there isn't anything wrong with wanting to know more. I had to teach myself a lot of this,” You gesture around your cluttered home and shrug. You weren't embarrassed about your life

“Admirable,” Mihawk rumbles. He grimaces when his boots squelch and raises a brow when you snicker at his scrunched face.

“I'm sure I've got some socks that will fit you. Let me go get some and then I'll make us some tea?” You offer, and Mihawk gives you what might call a pitiful look if the elegant mad made those. You snicker again and then walk off, “Make yourself at home.”

Dracule huffs at your retreating back and then reaches down to tug off his boots and then his socks. He feels exposed like this, but not unsafe or in any kind of danger. it's not a common feeling unless he was home, secluded away inside his room in his empty castle. He kicks back in his chair, warming his chilled toes by the fire.

You come back to your living room to see your guest lean back in his chair with his eyes closed. You take in his relaxed form, tiny smile playing on your lips as you watch him. He looks peaceful like this, the monstrous scowl gone from earlier. You jump when he speaks up.

“I can feel you staring, Darling,” he rumbles and cracks a yellow eye open to peer at the young woman he came all this way to see. He wonders if she understands how important such a notion was.

“Sorry! you just looked comfortable,” you tell him and then step into the kitchen to start the kettle. You slap your cheeks while hidden away from him, cursing yourself for being so rude to your guest.

Dracule rolls his eyes and stands to follow you to the kitchen. He comes to a stop behind you, reaching out one hand to place it on your hip. He feels you tense, and then the room drops in temperature as your devil fruit comes to life in response to the sudden touch. He ignores the cold and takes a half step closer, and you shiver at the heat radiating from his front.

“Don't be scared, Darling. You're safe with me,” Mihawk says quietly and then reaches past you with his free arm to gather the two mugs that the two of you used last time. He set them on the counter and then stepped back like he hadn't just rocked your entire foundation.

You swallow and turn around quickly, heart in your throat as you stare up at Darcule. He watches you, eyes intent, waiting for your next words.

“Which tea do you want?” You croak, and the tension in the air shatters when Mihawk snorts a laugh and runs a hand through his hair, fixing the black strands back in place.

“I'll take the peppermint, dear,” Dracule decides and watches the way you nod and quickly turns back to the counter. He leans in the doorframe, and by the time the kettle begins to whistle, the chill of the room has faded, and you face him with a relaxed grin on your face.

“One for you, one for me,” You intone and the two of you settle back by the fireplace in the living room. He takes his seat and you surprise him by settling on the floor by the open fire. You hand him his tea, and Mihawk sips from the chipped mug.

“Cold?” Dracule questions, and you nod, lips twisting in a weary smile. He finds that he does not like the distant look in your eye, as if recalling bad memories.

“Mhm, yeah. I ate the Yuki Yuki fruit when I was really young. You've seen it already. I'm always cold, so being warm is nice,” you admit casually, but Mihawk can still hear the strain on your voice. He frowns, curious for more, but unwilling to press for more if you did not want to speak on it.

“It is a formidable power,” Dracule murmurs and stands to set another log into the fire. His concern and curiosity for you grows, and he does not fight it. So, he settles back in his chair and parts his legs, “Come here, Darling.”

“What?” You demand, eyes wide and mouth growing dry. You can't have heard how correctly.

Hawkeye sighs, yellow eyes narrowing in on your befuddled form. The warlord knows that you aren't this dense. You're a smart girl, “Don't make me repeat myself, Darling,” he quips and pats his lap, “Come here. I'll warm you up.”

You find yourself standing on wobbly legs. In three short steps you stand between his legs, and Dracule finishes the job by grasping your hips and leading you firmly to sit in his lap. He sits you sideways, legs hanging over the side of his and pressing you into his chest. It's intimate, daring, and Mihawk has to look up to hide his smile when he feels you begin to relax against him.

You grin to yourself, warm and comfortable tucked up against your friend's? chest. You don't really know what's going on, but you like it. You like the squirmy feeling that blooms in your chest when this man who invited himself into your life looks at you.

“See?” Dracule speaks up, and you can feel the way his chest flexes below you when he curls one of his arms around you, “I told you I ran hot, Darling.”

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff

[windvexer]

saw your post where it's like "9. Many spirits are pleased to assist us in magic." Sounds great- but how do I get in touch with spirits who will assist me with obscure little problems like "my chronic illness means I don't know how to find a community" or "I'm not getting enough fun freelance work?" (Admittedly, I also feel bad for asking other beings for things that are so frivolous in comparison to other people's life-or-death problems)

The roofer showed his hammer to the tailor. "This is my hammer; it works remarkably well. It's the best tool I have, and gets almost everything done for me."

"So you must love using your hammer all the time," commented the tailor, who was just at that very moment using his sewing machine to make some pants.

The roofer sighed in a manner most weary. "No, not at all."

"You don't often use your hammer?"

"I just feel so bad about it. Imagine all the people out there who have to work on much worse roofing jobs, where the work is much more difficult and the risks of failure are higher."

"...Yes, I'm imagining them."

"And they've got to use a hammer."

"Alright."

"So... what right do I have to use one, really?"

"But it's not like you're sharing a hammer. You using your own hammer doesn't take away from the hammers or hammering of others. There are millions of hammers out there." The tailor didn't know how many hammers there were, but he was pretty sure it was at least in the millions. And there had to be fewer roofers than that. It seemed like a safe number to guess at.

"Yes, but imagine this," says the carpenter, queuing up a nested analogy. "Imagine you're at an infinite buffet with tables and dishes stretching out as far as the eye can see."

"I'm imagining," replies the tailor, who had just had a chicken caesar salad but didn't find it to be very filling.

"It's the most beautiful buffet, and every dish refills, and every table is endless. You'd feel pretty bad eating from that, right?"

"Of course not. I'd eat plenty and be pretty happy about it, too."

"But there are other people there who are hungrier. So."

"But you're not taking food away from anyone! You're standing in front of an infinite buffet, telling hungry and weary roofers that they should feel badly about using their hammer," shouted the tailor, who had momentarily forgotten which analogy he was aiming for.

"That's not fair," the carpenter replied. "I'm just explaining how I feel about myself. Also, what if the food isn't exactly infinite?"

"You using your hammer doesn't create a dark wizard nexus that blots out the sun and cleaves the spirit world from the hearts of other hopeful roofers, as if you helping yourself creates a deficit of goodness, but everyone else helping themselves creates an increase in goodness. Don't add goodness to the world if you don't want to, but don't pretend that it doesn't count just because it's primarily benefiting you," said the tailor, abruptly ruining the hem of the pants.

Try The Crooked Path by Kelden for ritual steps for contacting the Witchmother and Witchfather and meeting helpful spirits, including ancestors, familiars, and the fetch.

[optichocolate]

Absolute flash won't come out in sooo long and yet my brain won't stop thinking about it...

Anyways we got some pictures and I'm gonna analyze the hell out of them like the nerd I am. So, first things first. We got this image when absolute flash was first announced and I saw some people trying to guees what it meant and that maybe the figure around Wally was Barry. But I think it's Wally himself in this pictures. What that means I have no idea, but you can see three figures around him and I think the haircut of this person is kinda similarto Wally's own? He looks tormented by the figure which is not cool, but hey it's not the flash if Wally doesn't suffer a little amiright?

In the second image he looks really shocked to have powers which means he probably wasn't born with them. The image on the bottom panel kinda supports my theory that these red things are Wally's powers. Either it's an stylistic choice, a new spin on the speedforce, or he's being possessed by something. Could be all three.

His fear on these images could be because his powers hurt him, which is likely the reason, BUT! I'm gonna venture and say that in this universe, being a metahuman is illegal, or simply very very bad. We go this image of the rouges looking badass and my initial thought was that they were assossiated with the government somehow. I think they could be paid in order to do certain things (probably hunting metas?) and getting paid for it. Maybe they are even viewed as superheroes!

I'm so excited to see them in action. So far we can see Golden Glider, Captain Cold, Captain Boomerang, and Trickster? I think? Probably a new character cause it looks like a woman.

And finally my favorite page.

Here we get Wally talking to... someone. I actually have no idea who this is. It gives me uncle Ben vibes, but he looks to old be Barry. And since this is a story where the heroes are doing BADLY I assume it's not Jay either. The only way I could see it being either of those two is if they die OR wally won't see them anymore. The last panel being all black makes me think they are telling Wally something shocking, or maybe they are sending him away?

It could also be Rudy...? Wally has green eyes, and the guy has brown eyes, though. Besides, Rudy and this guy look nothing alike and it's... weird seeing him being so chill. Have we ever seen Rudy actually sit down and talk to Wally in a nice way? At least this guy looks chill, though he IS pretty big. Look how tiny wally loooks in comparison. Sure hope he won't turn him in to the Rouges or something.

The third possible option is that this is a foster parent? Maybe Ira West took him in? Could be a totally new character, the point is that he takes care of Wally. Maybe Rudy and Mary died, or they were clearly abusive in here? The second option doesn't sound too far-fetched... The writer has complete freedom over this story considering it's like a canon AU, so anything could happen. This guy could be an alien for all we know. A manifestation of the speedforce? A memory? A nightmare? Who knows...

[cursedvida]

SAD EYES, BROKEN SMILE III (Buggy x F!Reader)

PART II // PART IV

WARNINGS: violence, swearing, Buggy being angry.

N/A: thirth part of this series, it's not gonna be so much longer. I hope you enjoy!

After revealing your ability to knock a guy down with just a couple of blows, your pretensions of going unnoticed within the crew have become quite impossible. You have caught the attention of Buggy, who on the one hand seems quite interested in your skills, but on the other is somewhat suspicious of you. And no wonder, in his eyes you have gone from being a helpless young girl to a killing machine, that has to confuse anyone. 

The day after what happened in the tavern he calls you to his cabin. It's the first time you've been alone with him since you found him that night in the ship's hold. You are very nervous, not because he might blow your cover but because he is so close to you. Buggy is not an overly muscular man but he is very tall, at least two feet taller than you. It was something you hadn't paid much attention to until now. Having him so close to you makes your chest tighten, making you feel ridiculous. 

"So tell me, Y/N.... why hadn't it occurred to you to tell me that you can finish a man off in half a minute?"

Buggy's voice sounds soft, almost seductive. He's using a patronizing tone. You've been watching him long enough over the past few months to know it's his way of hiding an impending anger.

"Do you think i'm an idiot?" There he is, he's just pulled out the genie. He abruptly turns to you and approaches, positioning himself dangerously close. "Tell me, do i look like a joke to you?"

You should be nervous about having to come up with some excuse but actually all you can think about is that you see him as a very kissable person. Obviously, you can't say that. 

"Did you really think I'm gonna believe the story of you not minding important to tell me about your fighting skills?"

"I..."

"Tell me the truth, Y/N. Now."

Buggy comes dangerously close to your face, his nose almost brushing against yours. He must think your nervousness is because he's caught you, but the truth is your heart is going so fast because you're holding him so close and it feels like a sin not to eat his mouth. Every day that passes your desire for him grows and at times like this you find it hard to control yourself.

"Well?" he insists, getting impatient. 

You snap back to reality, you must answer something. You sigh, perhaps the best thing to do is to tell the truth.

"Okay..." you nod, pulling away from him a little. You can't center your head holding him so close, his scent clouding your sense. "I had foster parents, they were Marines. They were working as undercover agents, but they ended up in prison for treason or something. When they were arrested my sister and I escaped, but we ended up as slaves and were bought by a horrible guy who was in the business of training children to sell them as mercenaries in the future. I was one of the best, escaped from there, got my own life and blah, blah, blah..."

You were not good at telling stories but that time you have excelled, you have told it with such reluctance that anyone would say that you are summarizing a very boring novel. Buggy stares at you for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. You don't understand what's so funny, maybe you don't like to make a big deal out of it because your personal traumas have turned you into a kind of emotional robot, but it's not to make fun of other people's misfortunes either. 

"Do you really expect me to believe something like that?" 

Wow, so that's what it is, the truth has seemed too far-fetched for him. Well, good for you. 

"I have to admit, you're a good storyteller. You could use that talent for some show." You stifle a smile, one of the things you like most about that fool is how sometimes he doesn't know anything. "But I want the truth, Y/N, or we'll have a problem."

You sigh. Fuck, that's lazy, now you'll have to make something up. 

"My father was a former marine" you lie "I was trained by him." 

Buggy grimaces.

"Yes, of course the earlier story was much more interesting, it had more drama."

"I thought if I told that my father had been in the Navy you wouldn't want me in your crew" you shrug. Well, in the end a boring, simple excuse was the most convincing. 

Buggy stares at you, weighing whether to buy your excuses or not. 

"Okay, I believe you" he nods. He folds his arms and leans slightly towards you, speaking menacingly "But I hate it when people try to make a fool out of me." 

"I never have ever intended anything like that" Actually at first you did. 

"Are you sure?"

"Fuck, of course yes!" You exclaim, exasperated, stepping completely out of your role. 

Buggy pulls back, confused by your reaction. 

"What, you're offended?" he asks, incredulous "I'm the one who has the right to be angry here!"

"For God's sake, Buggy, stop thinking the whole fucking world wants to fucking laugh at you."

You've never said swear words in front of him before, nor spoken in such a rude manner. It's the first time you show him your true personality and he seems quite surprised. And a bit angry, to be honest. 

"You're obsessed with what fucking people think. Fuck it, people are bullshit." 

"How dare you talk to me like that, don't you know who I am?"

"Of course I know, everyone knows. You love make everyone know" you reply, a bit fed up now "I'm just telling you the truth."

"You don't seem very enthusiastic, maybe you don't like being on this crew anymore."

You fold your arms, he's not the only one who can be proud and stubborn, you've always been known for that too. 

"Maybe not."

Buggy's gaze seems to be on fire with rage. He's really furious. 

"Well, get the hell out then."

"No!"

That really knocks him off his feet.

"No?"

Your tone has dropped considerably, regaining your composure. 

"I'm not leaving." 

"May I ask what the hell is wrong with you?"

At this point in the conversation, and considering that you've already discovered too many cards to give up the game, perhaps it's time to tell the truth. But the one that matters. The stuff about you working as a bounty hunter or that your goal was to kidnap him is not something that seems relevant to you.

You take a breath, take a deep breath and stare at him. 

"I like you" you reply matter-of-factly.

Buggy stares at you as if he has just seen a ghost. He's speechless, that's quite a feat coming from someone who is incapable of shutting his mouth for more than two minutes. He opens his mouth slightly to say something but he can't, he gets stuck. Your confession has completely thrown him off, right now so many things are going through his head that he is unable to manage. 

"I don't care about being a pirate" since you confess, you decide to confess completely "but I like you and I don't want to leave the ship. So stop accusing me like that, it doesn't sit well with me."

Not that it feels too good to your self-esteem to see the horrified look on Buggy's face at this point, but it feels genuinely good. You've finally let it out, you've been holding it inside for so long that it's been a lump in your throat.

"Your .... Eh.... Me?" It's the only thing Buggy finds himself able to utter. 

The idea being liked by someone is not something that crosses his mind often. Buggy can brag about all his exploits and constantly bravado about his abilities, but he has always felt considerably inferior than many of his peers. He knows he inspires fear, terror even, that some of his disciples look up to him but... liking him? Why would you like him? You're quite a bit younger and very pretty. In fact you don't know it, but more than one member of the crew has commented to him once or twice that they finds you very attractive. He's sure it's a ruse or something to confuse him, there's no way you really could like him. 

"Look, I'm not going waste more time, this is a childish conversation" You tell him, once you've made your confession it's like all the nerves and fear have disappeared. You are you again. "When you calm down you look for me"

And then you make the decision to do something you've been wanting to do for weeks. You were taught that if you decide something you have to go all the way, that has always been your character. So you approach Buggy, stand on tiptoe and give him a light kiss on the lips. He stands still, motionless, like a statue. You look into those eyes that enchant you and say:

"I really wanted to do that, I'm sorry." 

And with that said you leave, returning to the deck. Buggy stares at you, static, unable to react. 

What the hell just happened?

[rosakuma]

Soooo….I have a theory about MonoTV based off of @a-star-that-burns-brightly’s post about MonoTV regarding to Teruko(link below right here, give it a read, it is very good ^^) :

Had this on the back burner for a little bit, but here we go.

So the theory I have is a bit silly and might be far fetched, but what if MonoTV is Mai Akasaki? Or alternatively somehow created or influenced by her?

As crazy as this sounds, I have a feeling thanks to the recent/last ep of ch.2 that this might be more possible.

For starters, while we know what that most likely XF-Ture is behind in some of the creation process for MonoTV in term of this line

But that doesn't mean that they created it. For all we know, MonoTV could’ve been created by someone else. Even they don't know who is their creator is.

MonoTV: All the decisions I make were already decided by whatever entity created me, because I am a robot.

This reminds me how in DR2, Monomi(a.k.a Usami) and AI Chiaki was created by Chihiro Fujisaki, but is used by the future foundation as observers over the NEO world program in regarding of rehabilitating the remnants of despair. Created by someone else, but used by a group/company.

Throughout this chapter, we seen MonoTV interact with Teruko a lot. Having her help it with the chalking, while stating not out of well concern for her being it still advised Teruko to be careful with her stab wound, offering her Monocredits to get away from others, and now with its conversation with Teruko at the end of the ch.2 trial.

When a-star-that-burns-brightly noted how it trusts Teruko to remain with it in the empty trial room despite her being responsible for trying to kill it with having Ace punch the lights out of them resulting in their broken screen and tries answering Teruko with a sense of both giving advice and confiding in her…it got me thinking, could MonoTV have remains in its data to have a sort of connection towards Teruko?

The only person we know confirmed via flashback that either knew or had connections to Teruko pre killing game as of right now is Mai Akasaki. And we definitely know Mai is important to the plot and possibly this killing game too. So what I feel that strengthen this is MonoTV’s secret quote and Teruko’s quote about Mai.

MonoTV: Her name is Mai Akasaki.

Teruko: Some years ago, she was searching for someone named ‘Teruko Tawaki.’

At some point of the story, MonoTV will tell us about Mai Akasaki since the secret quotes from the cast is mentioned or alluded to in the main story and bonus episodes. Same goes to Teruko’s which probably will happen if Teruko gets her memories back about Mai.

So regardless if Mai, Hope’s peak, or XF-Ture is behind the killing game. I believe one of two things happen:

Theory 1# Mai created MonoTV

We yet to know her ultimate talent and whether or not that could come into her creating MonoTV. But for the heck of this theory, let’s say Mai has knowledge and materials for how to create a robot. Mai created MonoTV whether for whatever the intentions were for and added her connection or her relationship with Teruko into it. Actually now talking about it, perhaps Mai created MonoTV to find Teruko? Regardless the intention, XF-Ture either A. Stole MonoTV from Mai to reprogram it for the killing game or B. Mai actually worked with XF-Ture to create MonoTV for the killing game. Thus why despite it being program to run the killing game regardless of its guilt or regrets it can feel and supposedly should not be able to care for any of the participants here, it somehow cares or trusts Teruko thanks to Mai’s connection to her. Plus some speculate that maybe the killing game was to withheld or kill Teruko, and we know Mai is searching for her thanks to Teruko’s secret quote.

Theory 2# Mai IS MonoTV

Yep, that’s right. We’re going full fnaf here with the possession of a robot. A lot of people in the fandom think that Mai might be dead and that can be likely since she’s well…not here. But what if she was? Essentially for whatever reason XF-Ture or Hope Peak if they’re involved when creating this killing game, they decided Mai was going to run it. So they A. stuff her into MonoTV against her will since she refused to run it alive or B. MonoTV needed a soul to run it, so they killed Mai and stuffed her into it to be able to make it work. It could even explain why MonoTV can feel pain or guilt if there’s a human soul trapped within it.

I get possession is a little off here in terms of why a tech company needs to kill a high schooler to run their little mascot, but I don't think it's abnormal for this series.

Plus remember, drdt takes place in canon Danganronpa timeline with DR1, DR2, UDG, and DR3(not V3, the anime). In which Ultra Despair Girls proved the existence of ghost is real thanks to Komaru being able to see(and got possessed by) Monaca Towa’s dad. Not to mention Chiaki in the NEO World Program was inspired by the real life Chiaki who was classmates with people in Class 77-B. So regardless if Mai is a ghost possessing MonoTV or she created it, its not far fetched to believe in this world that possession or creating artificial intelligence based off a real person can happen. Also I know this is a reached too since they both have different VAs, but I swear to you, unnamed student(who we assume is Mai) and MonoTV after being decked by Ace with its voice change sounds similar to me. Maybe that’s just me though.

Either way, if this is true, then its a sad fate for this little machine on whether its being forcefully reprogram to override its original creator’s intentions, was program this way despite being given the ability to feel remorse, or is a trapped soul being forced thanks to orders in it to kill its old friends against it's will

[lick-me-lennon22]

How they'd comfort you after a SH episode

(thank you to anon for this request!! I know this is a sensitive subject for many so I understand the decision to skip this one ❣️ those who choose to read on, I hope you enjoy!)

⚠️⚠️⚠️ TW: SELF-HARM ⚠️⚠️⚠️

John

John is immediately panicked and uneasy at the sight of you this way

he's seen his fair share of blood, but never that of someone he loves so dearly

for once he's at a loss, no longer his usual smooth and confident self

he stumbles over his words and mumbles reassurances under his breath, hoping to provide you some sense of comfort while he gets his thoughts in order

he knows this isn't something he can joke his way around

John cleans and bandages you up, having done the same for himself countless times following the frequent fights of his youth

he gives you one of his T-shirts to borrow and settles onto the bed next to you

he shares his own thoughts and struggles with you, wanting you to feel less alone

John doesn't have much to offer in the way of coping strategies or outlets, as he isn't exactly the best at managing his own emotions

instead he rubs your back and shushes you, rambling and sharing mindless stories to take your mind off of things until you're able to drift off to sleep

Paul

Paul's doe eyes fill with tears at the sight of your fresh wounds, threatening to spill over before he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves

he mentally scolds himself, knowing he has to hold it together so as not to upset his beloved any further

he takes a gentle and nurturing approach the delicate situation at hand, slowly stepping closer to you and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder

Paul offers endless words of reassurance, telling you how beautiful you are and reminding you that you're the light of his life and the strongest person he knows

he helps you clean up if you allow him, gingerly patting your skin with a dampened cloth

he places gentle kisses on your forehead and strokes your hair, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears as he finally lets his own slip down his ruddy cheeks

when you're clean and settled into bed, Paul picks up his guitar and begins to strum

he plays you a soothing melody, hoping the soft chords and lilt of his voice will lull you to sleep so you can rest and recover

George

George approaches the situation with a calm but serious demeanor

he is deeply concerned for you, but understands your pain and doesn't want to push you to open up to him before you're ready

he soaks a washcloth in cool water and dabs it on your skin to clean you up

he'll fetch you a clean set of clothing to make sure you're comfortable and cared for

though he doesn't want to pry, a quiet voice in his head urges him to help you work through your overwhelming emotions

the man of few words suddenly finds much to say, offering wisdom from his own spiritual practices and beliefs

he emphasizes the importance of finding inner peace and grounding yourself before granting you some time to process his words

when you're ready, George walks you through a guided meditation and some mindful breathing techniques, hoping to bring you some peace of mind

Ringo

Ringo is devastated and doesn't quite understand the situation or what may have led you to do this

he wonders how the one he adores so much could ever want to cause such harm to themselves

he offers to do or bring you anything you need, desperate to remedy the situation

he rifles through the bathroom cabinet for bandages, finally coming across a small metal tin

Ringo rushes over to kneel by your side and begins to place the adhesive bandages over your wounds

being the supportive partner he is, he's so blinded by his dedication to caring for you that he doesn't seem to notice the bandages are far too small

when he gets to the fifth one you fail to stifle a laugh, amused by his determination to make them fit

his face lights up when he hears you laugh - the most melodic sound he could ever imagine

he tries to cheer you up with his usual nonsensical Ringo-isms, lightening your mood and easing your worries with talk of silly fantasies and reminders of your happiest memories together

[kairiscorner]

miles meeting readers 7 yo sister.. cause yes !!! 🤩🤩 only if you want too btw!!

HELLOOOO OOO YES PLEASE >:)) i heard and saw from fanart here that miles actually has a little sister in the comics :0 i'd like to headcanon now that he's innately wonderful with kids >:3

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

big brother miles is here.

summary: you introduced miles to your seven-year-old little sister, and though she appeared like an angel at first, miles still has a long way to go before getting on her good side. luckily, miles has a ton of patience and adoration towards the little bugger, he won't be giving up so easily at becoming her new big brother. or rather, spider man won't be giving up so easily. word count: 741

you held your little sister's hand, her grip on your fingers tightening, as she shirked behind you a little. she kept her gaze down on the ground as you met up with miles, who greeted you both with a smile and a chipper voice. "miles, this is my little sister." you introduced her to him as he gasped at how cute she was. "aww, of course she is, you two cuties would definitely be family." he teased you both as you chuckled and gently tugged at your little sister's hand to make eye contact with miles.

miles smiled at her once she made eye contact with him. "hi, kiddo. i'm miles, what's your name?" he asked her in a gentle voice, not hoping to intimidate or scare her. she looked up at him with shy eyes, and before miles knew it, she resigned to your backside; not hoping to talk to him, or anyone else you knew, out of shyness. miles' smile waned and was replaced by a slight frown at how your younger sister wasn't very eager to talk to him. "oh, sorry about that. she... doesn't really do well around strangers." you apologized to him for her as you murmured to her that it was okay, miles wouldn't bite.

miles nodded and smiled again. "no worries, i used to be that way as a kid, too. it's understandable." he said as he went off to the kitchen to fetch you guys some water, as you tried to tell your little sister to at least speak one word to miles as long as you guys were there. miles came back with the water and sat down next to you, with your little sister on your other side watching a video on your phone. miles couldn't help but hear the video, and heard his own voice coming from it--it was a video of spider man saving a baby from a burning building.

miles' eyes widened and he cracked a smile as he leaned over a little. "ooh, she likes spider man?" he asked you, to which you chuckled. "she loves him." you said as your little sister overheard you and shot you a look of embarrassment. miles nodded as he had an idea. "hey, what if... i told you i'm friends with him?" he asked your little sister, whose eyes shined when she heard his bewildering fact dump. but she figured it was all just a tactic to get her to say something, so she merely replied, "that's impossible, he's a busy guy," as she continued watching the video.

miles backed away and got up from the sofa as he told you to wait for one minute, and you watched him head off upstairs, unsure of what he was going to do. then, in a minute, you heard a rapping sound by the window. oh he couldn't possibly have-- "spider man!" your little sister exclaimed as she smiled widely and rushed towards the window, with you reluctantly following her. "hey, kid! heard ya like spider man from my buddy, miles morales." "i do! wait, how are you guys friends?" "uh... long story! anyway, wanna swing around brooklyn? your parents don't need to know!" miles offered your little sister, to which you tried to get her to say no, but she couldn't! spider man was right here, in the flesh, of course she'd say yes!

"oh, our parents are gonna kill us..." you muttered as miles carried your little sister and looked over at you. "hey, no need to worry. we won't go too far or too crazy, i'm spider man, no worries--i've got her." he said, to which your little sister responded with a big hug. "i love you, spider man!" she exclaimed, which made miles' heart melt. "i... love ya too, kid. you got spider man as your big brother now, how's that?" he asked her as she giggled. "awesome! now swing, please!" she requested miles as he did as she said and swung over to the next building, with her squealing all the while, and you trying not to worry. but it was miles, of course, you trusted him deep down; you knew no harm would come upon your sister if he was around. and besides... in a way, your sister's finally come around to liking miles, at least as spider man; someday, she'll come to like miles the way she likes spider man, you were sure of it.

a/n: i love reader's little sister BJIEBIJCBRFVBFRBVIB

tags !! @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @fiannee

[lbulldesigns]

A very far out there theory.

I've seen a few theories on who this little girl here could be.

Some have said that she's Powder and this is a flashback, which doesn't seem likely because she's wearing clothes similar to Jinx and has cloud tattoos drawn on her tiny arm, I've also seen theories that she's a random child that will die to further Jinx's plot (which I really hope isn't true), and even a theory that she's Marcus' daughter, but I think that's just a meme at this point.

Now I have a theory and it's really, really out there so bare with me a moment.

This girl is Seraphine. A.K.A The Songbird of Zaun.

Now hear me out. Riot has confirmed that Arcane is not Canon with the games and is its own story. Seraphine has gone through a few evolutions over the years in order to make her story interesting, considering the negative reviews on her original skin and storyline. So what if Riot decided to introduce her as a child first, she's younger than Jinx in Canon and also fangirls over her saying that she loves Jinx's rhythm and how unpredictable it is.

So it isn't too out there for her to mimic Jinx's look here. She's also all about unity, so what if she develops these beliefs by seeing how terrible war is with her own eyes.

There's also her hair in this screenshot.

When you look closely you can see flecks of pink, being a child she wouldn't be able to properly dye her hair so she coloured it with hair chalk or something but it wears off and you see her natural colour. It could be a trick of the light but with the direction it's coming from and the fact you can't see any light reflecting of the person (possibly Sevika) carrying her off makes me question if this is her actual hair colour coming through.

There's also how thick and wavy looking her hair is, Seraphine has long hair canalogically.

And as someone with thick hair herself, I can attest to how curly and wavy it looks when cut short.

Seraphine is also a mage and empath, so if anyone were to bond with Jinx instantly, it would be her. And the way her hand is outstretched here,

Kinda suggests, to me, that she's reaching out to help or trying to cast a spell; that sounds far-fetched I know, but her facial features look more like she's concentrating and less like she's in distress.

There's also this line in the trailer "The Arcane is waking." What better way to introduce that storyline than through one of Zaun's known mages, next to Zeri, that is.

There is also the fact that Jinx has had a few bird motifs throughout the series, such as the crows and ravens and the doves in her mural. She's also been referred to as Janna's Bluebird by the fandom, which again is interesting that Janna has bluebirds and there's a flighty little blue haired girl running amock that Janna (in game at least) seems to like.

And her new look here,

The teeth look like feathers when framing her face and making her look more like a bird from front view.

How adorable would it be if Jinx's number one fan here was the Songbird of Zaun.

It's highly unlikely that this theory is true, but if at any point Jinx turns around and calls this girl Songbird or she introduces herself to Jinx as Sera, then I will shit bricks.

[justanotherfanfolks]

JP Book 7 Spoiler Warning!

You know, I've been deeply curious about what Ruggie's dream is going to be, and I think I have an idea.

Buckle up, I'm back at it again with my giant text posts:

Ah, Ruggie! A fan favorite! At least, I hope he is. I love this little dude! Who doesn't love our hyena kleptomaniac that's worked hundreds of jobs?

So ever since Part 2 of Book 7, I've been dying to see everyone's dreams. Therefore, I SCREAMED when Book 7 actually ended up taking that route! Of course, I've been speculating for months as to what their dreams could be! I mean, it's really, like REALLY, hard to predict where the TWST story goes, they always throw you a curveball and keep you super engaged. I don't think I've ever correctly guessed something for TWST. But I'm not gonna let that stop me from guessing Ruggie's dream!

From what I can tell, Ruggie is the type of person who wants to work for what he gets. He's definitely a fan of free things, absolutely no way this dude would turn down free food! But my guy is not a fan of those high and rich in society acting above everyone and walking all over the lower class. He knows you should get in with the rich, but 90% of those people aren't going to give him the time of day. He definitely knows that. The only rich people out here giving him the time of day are Leona and Kalim, which makes them pretty interesting cases and this is entirely due to their childhoods. Anyway, in Wish Upon a Star, Ruggie's wish is for a high-paying job. Not for straight cash, not for everything he could ever want, a job. Doesn't even humor the idea of just wishing for what money could buy. So I don't think Ruggie's dream is going to be him sitting on a giant mountain of gold and lounging around. On a surface level, someone could think that would be his dream, but that doesn't sound like Ruggie. Ruggie "Eat the Rich" Bucchi would NEVER. I mean, it'd be hilarious and iconic, but the story doesn't use Ruggie's character in that way. He can get intense stuff. Besides, TWST is anything but surface level. Therefore, I think his dream is going to pull from character traits from all the way back in Book 2.

It's interesting that Ruggie doesn't think he stands a chance at getting a high paying job. Like, my guy probably had the thickest resume known to man, and he doesn't think he's gonna get one of these jobs because of how competitive they are. He calls out the interview and testing process, is it too far fetched to assume his background may be of concern to him as a hurdle? If I may pull from Savanaclaw Novel my beloved, hyena's are heavily discriminated against in Twisted Wonderland (Lion King plot points go brrrrrrrr). Ruggie's a hyena from the slums, a place where no mages are expected to be and no one is expected to make anything of themself. He's a pride of the town, he's got his whole neighborhood rooting for him! This makes him ambitious. And this gives him his motive for success.

Ruggie wants a better life than the one dealt to him. But the thing is, Ruggie doesn't JUST want to be able to live a comfortable life. He wants to make a name for himself. That's why he believed so much in Leona's plan. He wants to flip the world on its head, he wants to prove himself, he wants to be seen, he wants to show the world a hyena can rise above. He's a mage, he's going to NRC, he's a star player on the Spelldrive team at school. He's already breaking barriers for himself, but that's only at school. Life is so much crueler to him out there. He's ready to fight against the world that wants to push him back down. He had goals in life, but some he speaks louder than others.

So what do I think Ruggie's dream is going to be?

He gets recruited by professional Spelldrive team.

This is his most far fetched dream in his eyes. That dream he's almost afraid to utter out loud with full sincerity. When he brings it up in the line I started with, he just backtracks like he was crazy to even consider it. Back in Book 2, the only time he felt like he could say it was when he believed so much in Leona's plan that he actually considered it possible. That's why it hurt him so much when Leona crushed that hope right in front of his eyes.

Spelldrive is clearly special to Ruggie. He uses every part of him in Spelldrive: his size, his magic, his trickery. He's made a name for himself on his team at school, even making it on TV broadcasts and being known by incoming freshmen. This is something he's good at and perfect captures multiple aspects of who he is. But what's the big thing with Spelldrive? It's a famous sports thousands of people tune into. What better way to make a name for yourself than as a famous athlete. A famous athlete with a background that said he'd never make it there. A little hyena that proved everyone that said he'd be nothing wrong. THAT'S what Ruggie wants. Spelldrive is the perfect way for Ruggie to go "Here I am! This is me! And you're all going to see me as I rise above." And that would make his wake up call extra cruel.

I only really have like, one thing that makes me think this may not be the case: The origin of that image I put at the beginning of this post.

I'm under the impression Ruggie is getting a Book 7 Card. Jack has the least in the dorm (one? ONE?!), so it should be him, but I think it'd be kind of weird to give the not Ortho/Sebek freshmen cards considering Epel didn't get one. If they want to give Jack a card, heck yeah free that boy from R jail! But let's assume for a moment it's Ruggie. If in Ruggie's dream he's a professional Spelldrive player, uh, Ruggie already has a Spelldrive card. It'd be really redundant unless either that card is just that swanky or he's not in uniform. But if they do this, how could they not give us any visuals?

It's just- I really feel like this should be it!

Ok, watch me eat my words when the Savanaclaw Chapter comes out-

[aidoxl]

Thinking about Yellow. Thinking about the Shifu Tie Lung of it all. The nature vs nurture. How Arthur was so regretful of how he treated Yellow that he memorized Yellow's vindictive speech.

I reblogged a post with this sentiment but in it I essentially said that Arthur obviously projects himself on people like Larson, the Butcher, and John. How he was stuck in a cycle of wanting to kill the ugly parts of himself he saw in Larson. Wanted to hide and ignore the parts of himself he saw in the Butcher. And that he wanted to help the parts of himself he saw in John. But in never giving up Arthur-Spit-In-The-Eye-Of-God-Lester created an Ouroboros in himself. Because if he can't help John then it circles back around to wanting to kill and hide himself.

Yellow and John started off the exact same. Except Yellow found himself bound to a ragged and jaded Arthur who didn't hesitate to tell him all the ways he wasn't like John. And Yellow acted out but there was still light in him. Arthur recites a poem while drunk and Yellow shuts up and listens. Larson later reciting one too and he almost sounds hopeful when he asks if Larson wrote it. Yet Arthur failed him. He wasn't patient and he expected Yellow to reach the same point it took John months to reach in a few days. And he doomed Yellow by chosing to guide him like that.

Shifu raised a monster by promising him the world and Arthur raised a monster by making him think he was holding him back from owning the world. And it kills me that Yellow ended up with Larson. From one unhealthy relationship to an even worse one.

Hell when Arthur confronts him and admits that he failed him Yellow listens. He doesn't accept the apology and he's not obligated to. But he listens to it. When he comes face to face with John all he can ask is "why you?" Why does Arthur care for you? What do I lack? And when John says "because I care about him."

Yellow who was thrust into an unfamiliar world and lied to by the man he's supposed to trust. Who gets told time and time again that he's not right. Who wasn't given the chance to grow attached to anything or anyone. But who knows he's the least loved compared to a "weaker" version of himself. How can he trust anyone? How can he care about anyone? How could he love anyone when all he can latch onto and trust is the knowledge that he was once a king.

It hurts me that he was thrown into the Dark World/dreamlands lol. Cause he's so similar to John that it's not a far fetch to guess that it will be his hell. And if he makes the best of it and rules with an iron fist it won't make him happy. Not forever. Because not even the King in Yellow could live within it.

Arthur couldn't fix the parts of himself he saw in Yellow fast enough for his waning patience and for it Arthur shamed him. But it was a failed expectation from the start. Yellow was doomed the moment he was ripped out of the King in Yellow and thrown at Arthur like a newborn baby. He was doomed the moment he became the second piece of the king in yellow to attach itself to Arthur. In a way, he was doomed since episode one when he wasn't the lucky piece that made it out of the portal. Arthur couldn't have helped him in the mental state he was in during season 3. Arthur failed him. And now Yellow is drowning.

[rogertaylorsprettyvoice]

(roger taylor x y/n)

No lock in the studio

tw: NSFW and explicit language!

word count: 2,790

tags: fem! reader, big age gap, unprotected sex, sex in the work place, dirty talk, sassy roger, quickie, oral sex (giving), penetrative sex, nipple pay, aftersex care

You're 24, you work as a sound engineer for a famous label but you didn't realise today would be the day you'd be left alone in a studio with Roger Taylor.

Peter. I need to find Peter, you think to yourself. You're frustrated and it shows. I'm not a fricking secretary. You're walking through the hallways of the studio looking for the sign S-16 on the door. It's the best studio in the building, which makes sense because Peter is very respected here. It's also the furthest and the longer you're walking, the more annoyed you are. You're really hoping he's alone in there right now. The whole reason why you're walking in the first place is because he cut his phone line off. He really hates to be disturbed.

After hopping for a good 5 minutes through the endless hallways, you finally find the said S-16 door. If he was recording right now, the big red sign above the door would be on. You still discreetly check though the small round window and only see him sitting on his chair, his back turned to you, so you knock.

"Come on in.

- Peter, I'm sorry to disturb you, but Carl is out there fuming about god knows what and obviously he sends ME because I've got nothing better to do than run around like his secretary."

He looks amused, which is reassuring for Peter, but you quickly understand when you hear someone coughing behind you. This day isn't getting any better. You sigh and turn around only to find a familiar face smoking a cigarette on the couch behind the door. It takes you a minute to realise who's standing up to greet you and you feel embarrassed for showing your bad temper in front of a client, especially this one.

You know you should get used to meeting artists and act professional but you weren't expecting to meet Roger freakin Taylor.

He smiles at you and you proceed to shake hands.

"Y/N, please meet Roger, Roger, this is Y/N, our very promising sound engineer.

- Very promising, you say? Nice to meet you, Roger greets you.

- Well, I wouldn't go that far, but it's a pleasure to meet you Sir, you smile back trying to keep it cool.

- Sir? God, don't ever call me Sir, I'm not that old, am I?"

Roger and Peter laugh while you stare in disbelief. You stutter and try to take it back but they seem to forget about it when Roger sits next to your colleague. It took you only two minutes to embarrass myself and insult the greatest drummer of all times, great.

"Y/N, what does Carl want that is so urgent?

- A client is freaking out up there and he thinks it's your fault, but this is all I could understand before he sent me off to fetch you like his little pet."

Now, Peter looks pissed. He gets up from his seat with little to no conviction and says:

"I think I know what this is about.. Rog, let me go check on him really quickly. I'm sorry but Carl can be a real pain in the ass sometimes and he won't let it go unless I come find him."

Roger nods and looks understanding. Peter proceeds to go out, so you start following him outside, eager to watch him put Carl back in his place, but a voice stops you.

"Y/N, can I ask for your opinion?"

The drummer looks at you from his seat, waiting for an answer, but all you can think about is how Roger Taylor wants your opinion.

"I'm sorry, he adds sarcastically, I should have called you Miss, I knew I was moving too fast."

Your laugh lights up the room and the tension your previously felt vanishes.

"Much better, thank you, Sir."

Gosh, he looks handsome when he smiles. And when he doesn't smile. Or when he laughs. Of course, you know who Roger Taylor is, you've seen him before on pictures and on the telly, but now that you're face to face with him, you only have one word on your mind and it's gorgeous.

He doesn't look like he needs much to look good. He's wearing a plain white shirt and somehow looks like the most beautiful man on earth. Although, you have to admit that the way he's wearing it, rolled up sleeves, not fitted, with a button that shows a little more than it should, is very suggestive.

"I would like you to hear this demo I recorded with Peter. I think it's missing something but I don't know what."

The music resonates in the studio and you carefully listen to the arrangement. It's got a rock vibe, with a bit of grunge. For a full two minutes, you're focused on the song, so much that you forget about Roger's presence. The music stops but you hit play again.

"Listen here. Great beginning. But how about you take out some of the guitar harmonies to have a much clearer sound in the first verse to build it up towards the end."

Roger frowns and nods, he is focused on what you're saying. You go on about rhythms, musicality, what adjustments he should make to your opinion. He looks surprised, like he didn’t expect you to be invested like this. When you're finally finished, he gives you an impressed look.

"Now I get what Peter meant when he said promising."

You're flattered but can’t hide your smile.

"How long have you been a sound engineer?

- Well, I'd say for about two years.

- Two years and you talk just like Peter.

- That's because he's kinda my mentor and he's the reason why I came here.

- Wait, hold on, how old are you?

- I'm 24, you were not expecting him to get personal with you this quickly which makes you smile.

- Shit, I'm way out of your league then."

You both look at each other with a hint of challenge in your eyes.

"And you're like what? 40? you tease him.

- Try 36, he takes out a cigarette and stares at you while he breathes in.

- I don't mind, you say, looking straight in his eyes with a smirk.

- You don't mind?

- I don't mind, no, you say with a softer voice, never breaking the eye contact."

You don't understand how the mood shifted so quickly, but the room is now filled with an invisible tension. His eyes linger on your body and lurk you up and down. You love how he doesn't even try to hide his attraction to you. He fully looks like he could devour you right now.

You stand up from your seat to come closer to him and sit on the corner of the control table. You're only inches away from each other. His leg is slightly touching yours and this simple friction is almost too much to endure.

You're looking at him from above but his stare makes it so hard to maintain. His gaze is burning your skin. He’s sitting down, full of his cocky attitude, looking up with his doe eyes.

"I think that Peter, you pause, might be coming back, you almost whisper.”

He stands up and slowly pulls you closer with every word he says, his eyes locked into yours at all times.

“Yeah, he says, I think he’ll be back soon.

- We shouldn’t stand so close to each other, then.

- No, you’re right, we shouldn’t.”

But he doesn’t move. If anything, the tension makes it hard for you to not get any closer. His face is only a moment away from touching yours. His eyes, his piercing blue eyes, move between the tip of your nose and your eyes because you’re so close that he can’t even see your lips anymore.

A warm feeling arises from your lower back. It’s his hand, placed on your Venus dimples. It tickles you, very slightly, and the feeling grows on your stomach. The warmth climbs to your chest and shrouds your bosom.

Roger’s raspy voice suddenly brings you back from wherever you were mentally. You almost forgot about where you were.

“What should we do? his hand slowly lingers on your body.

- Maybe, lock the door? you ask with a smile.

- Or maybe not, says Roger.”

He loves the surprised look on your face. There’s something in his eyes - he’s provoking you. It’s impossible to look away, you are entirely focused on him and start to feel dizzy from the heat. His hand, previously placed on your lower-back, embraces your hip while finding a way under your tee-shirt. You shiver. His hands feel so cold on your burning skin.

With his other hand, he lifts your chin up then cups your face to get a good look at you. He tucks his fingers between your ear which makes you feel the need to gently rub your cheek against his palm. The scent of his perfume mixed with cigarettes completely takes over your analytical judgement; you give him one last look before you lose yourself and lean in, gently placing your lips on his.

Your hands find a way to bury in his neck while his right palm brings your hips together. The kiss is slow, very slow, so slow but so wet. It didn’t take you long to find the way to his pink muscle and yours are now dancing in each other’s mouth. Fingers buried in your hair, tongue caressing yours, pelvis pressed against his very tight pants; it’s almost too much to bare, you want more. No, you need more, you need him whole.

The kiss escalates quickly, making you whimper at how well he explores your mouth. His hands linger around your body, teasing you by caressing your sensitive breast, although he doesn’t yield to your moaning; he seems to like to torment you by grabbing you everywhere else. The feeling gets too overwhelming. You find your way to his shirt and start unbuttoning it until his chest is bare. You sense him smile against your lips. He must like your initiative.

He pulls you out. You instantly feel the need to reconnect with his lips.

“I want you so bad, doll.

- Do you want my mouth too? you say with your doe eyes.

- It’s already mine.”

The heat in your lower stomach migrates to your inner thighs and you can’t ignore the wetness anymore. Your hands brush his chest until they find a way to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. When you look down, you wonder how his pants did not explode. It’s so big you can’t wait to feel it inside of your drenched walls. But you’ve got something else in mind for him.

You kneel. He stares at you from above which makes him sexier than ever. He grabs your hair into an improvised ponytail. You take his member with your hand, slowly lick every inch of it, bottom to its wet tip, before shoving it in your mouth. Roger groans and lets go of the tension. You start moving a little bit, your hand follows your movement and you let your tongue play with it. It feels so freaking good. How can it feel so good? It’s unreal.

You look up to find him already looking down on you, mouth open, eyebrows frowned, wild blonde hair that he keeps pushing from his face. You want to hear his voice again, so you really shove it, deeper, until you feel it in your throat. The most beautiful sound comes to your ear while you’re trying to stay still. You would be moaning so loudly if he wasn’t in your mouth.

“Love, may I help you with my hand?”

You know exactly what he’s referring to because the grip on your hair gets tighter. You nod obviously, eager to see a glimpse of dom Roger.

You resume your sucking and moaning. You’re so dirty, he says, and with that, he thrusts his hard cock deep into your throat. You’ve never been taken care of like this. He’s intense, but not too quick, enjoying your wet mouth between each thrust. You can’t ignore it anymore; you’re drenched.

He gives it a little more strength before he finally pulls out. You can finally breathe. You hadn’t realised you couldn’t, you were too focused on the way he filled your mouth. You’re both panting - not for the same reason though.

“Come here, Y/N.”

He helps you back up, but doesn’t spare a second to pick you up and place you on the edge of the control table. He undresses your lower body, throwing your underwear in the room, and you lift your shirt to unravel your perfect tits, as he says.

“Roger, please, I need you in me, you whine. - Fuck, Y/N…”

He brings his hard cock towards your entrance and moans at the wetness of it. Slowly, he goes in while leaning in to kiss you, but you can't stop moaning, even against his lips. For a second, he intensifies the kiss and goes as deep as he can inside of you. You grab him by the shoulders, by his neck, ready to exhale due to the pleasure but he surprises you when he starts going faster, deeper, and groans while he fills you in really good. He grabs you by the back of your neck and goes faster. He doesn’t miss one opportunity to make you scream.

He slows down and locks his eyes into yours. His movements are like torture. So slow. The wet sounds fill the air and mix with your heavy breaths. He resumes kissing your lips then slowly goes down your neck. Oh my God, he's so hard. You're so hard, Roger. His lips go down and finally find their way to your breast. He licks your hard nipples and you let out the loudest moan while he's fucking you good. He licks them again and grabs your tits in his hand before whispering in your ear:

“You're such a little cunt…”

You don't think you've ever been this wet at the sound of someone's voice. Roger just knows how to make you horny for him and the thought of being his little cunt makes you so aroused that you forget how to breathe properly. The thrusts fill you again, and again, and again before you eventually feel it coming; your hands grab tightly onto him and you desperately look for his eyes before you manage to say:

“I'm coming, Rog…”

The world stops turning for a second. But he doesn’t stop. He’s harder than ever and your mind is completely empty. Your stomach tightens as well as your inner walls The air has left your lungs and your heart just might come out of your chest. 

And then the tension just explodes in a loud moan. He's still going hard, frowning his eyebrows and you suspect he's not too far either. Every movement he gives you is like an electric choc that makes the pleasure last longer. It's like a wave of relief that takes over your whole body. You take his hand and place it on your tit before locking eyes with him.

“Don't stop looking at me, you tell him.”

He doesn't. In fact, he's as deep in your eyes as in your pussy and he feels like he's losing control over his own body. He’s going fucking crazy. Absolutely feral for you. He gives you a few more powerful thrusts before he pulls out and spits his thick semen on your stomach. You hear again his raspy voice groaning and he finally stops moving.

His forehead is pressed against yours and for some reason you both can't stop smiling. He leans in and kisses you, softly this time. His lips are so soft, gosh.

Roger helps you clean up and picks up your clothes on the floor to help you with that too. How was this man a literal beast moments ago and acts like the sweetest man alive?

You're both fully clothed now, cheeks still pink, and he takes it upon himself to make your hair look presentable. Roger grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer to him.

“I wish I had more time to actually taste you. You were so wet for me.”

But you don't have time to answer because you both hear footsteps approaching, and the door opens with Peter. A little bit disappointed, you let go of each other but not without a shy smile.

“Y/N? You're still here? Don't you have work to do?”

You hurry to the door, worried he might notice the state of your hair and make-up. 

“I asked her to stay so I wouldn’t get bored.”

You don’t need to see him to picture the smirk on his face. Although, before you go, you look back and catch him already smiling at you. 

[words-of-wolf]

Having some Thoughts once more.

Specifically thinking about self-policing identity. Obviously policing others is a huge issue in the alterhuman and adjacent communities, but setting up my soap box here to talk about how we internalise the need to police identity.

Putting a cut here because god do I need to stop writing these walls of text that people then have to scroll past for eternity even if they're not interested in reading it asjdkhjksah !!

When I was a teen, I saw otherkin and therians self-policing and I respected them. I thought they were really strong for doing that; I thought it was necessary, and that the only way we could ever be accepted as a community is if we leaned hard into minimising our experiences, making things "palatable". It wasn't a conscious belief, but it was very present.

So that's what I emulated. Any discussion of my experiences, or my feelings, usually would get a lot of reassurances sprinkled in there: "this is just my beliefs", "it's okay if you don't believe this too", "I know this sounds far-fetched", "this is just my internal identity".

I thought that made me sound reasonable and respectable. Maybe it even did.

But nowadays, I see people doing this kind of thing - minimising their experiences, adding disclaimers, policing themselves - and mostly it just makes me feel sad for them. Not in a condescending way, cause I've been there, I know how it feels to believe you've gotta make yourself sound "reasonable" to be respected. But I don't feel respect for that attitude, it just makes me sad.

And now, I'm here growing into a version of myself where I finally start to feel like I'm an adult, and I finally start to feel like I'm myself in a way unhindered by that constant fear and self-regulation, and I can see plain as day how much the self-policing doesn't actually work.

Cause you could present the weirdest, most outlandish identity possible to someone, but if you don't make a big deal out of it they probably won't either. Casual but unapologetic is, I think, the best way to go. You don't always have to hide yourself. (Obviously, take time to judge your situation first, but, same goes for most things outside of "the norm").

But presenting yourself as some vulnerable thing who has to placate any aggression before it even happens - well, that just makes people uncomfortable, and the mean ones will single you out as a target for it more than they'd do with someone who's just kinda "whatever" about the whole situation.

And the same thing goes for if you have an identity that feels weird by alterhuman standards, y'know? Chill but unapologetic will get you far. You'll feel more comfortable in yourself, too. Cause when everything you say is minimised, you can start to internalise that too - and it can make you feel like embracing your identity wholeheartedly is a bad thing, or like your own perception of self should have the same uncertainty to it that your descriptions of it do.

I think... the desire and impulse to self-police and minimise is not something you can just "switch off". But I hope reading this can get the ball rolling for those of you out there who struggle with this in the same way I did!

You don't need to police yourself. You don't need to censor yourself.

Doing this doesn't help the community, and it doesn't increase our standing and validity in the eyes of people on the outside. At best, it does nothing; at worst, it makes us seem uncertain, nervous, and an easy target.

And doing this hurts yourself. It affects things in ways that are hard to even see, but take it from someone who's experienced it: these feelings can pierce so, so deep.

You don't need to apologise for who you are. I don't care how "weird" your identity or experiences are - it's you, it's who you are, nobody can touch that. And if you're genuine about it, people will accept you for it, and sometimes gravitate towards you, even; particularly the others who feel the same way, who are the "weird ones" among the weirdos.

Cause when you're unapologetic, when you're genuine in a way that's not flavoured by fear, you kinda... become a safe space. You create an atmosphere around you that gives other people permission to do the same. To just be themselves, without the uncertainty and fear.

And that's really special! It's important.

[sophsicle]

Regulus adjusts his position just so, looking out with practiced disinterest at the hall in front of him. His shoulders pulled back, head high. He doesn't quite fill out his brother's throne. The back just a little too tall, the legs a little too long, the soles of his boots only barely grazing the ground. He acts as though he notices none of this, of course. Acts as though the crown fits.

"You may rise," he says finally, to the man currently kneeling before him.

He's dressed in leathers, a blade and pistol hanging from his hip even though both are technically forbidden in the throne room. Sirius let him take too many liberties.

Regulus eyes him cooly, the man flashing him a grin, like this is all some big joke. Like Sirius isn't missing.

"My advisors tell me you think you know where my brother is?"

"I do."

Regulus waits, arching his brow. After several seconds of silence the man rolls his eyes.

"Your majesty."

Regulus tilts his head to the side, looking him up and down. He knows him, of course, his brother's lowborn drinking buddy. It's a good thing their father isn't alive to see the company the King has been keeping as of late.

"Tell me then," Regulus says finally, hoping his desperation isn't obvious. Tell me where he is. Tell me how to find him. Help me bring him home.

The man before him smiles again. "Why don't you just give me one of your pretty ships and I'll go fetch him myself, shall I?"

Regulus's eyes narrow. "You seem to think we are bargaining. We are not. You will tell me what you know. Now."

The man quirks his brow. "And if I don't?"

"Then I'll have you killed," Regulus says flatly. And he means it. Mostly.

The man's grin only grows, showing off his teeth, two of which, are golden. "Nah, I don't think you will."

"James--"

"Oh so you do know my name."

Regulus grimaces. "Do you think you could show just a little deference? I am your King."

"Prince."

"King until my brother returns. A process you are hindering with your insufferable..." he waves his hand in James's direction. "Insufferableness."

James laughs. "My insufferable insufferableness? Come now my Lord, surely your fancy tutors taught you a few more words than that?"

"Where is my brother!"

His voice rings out through the grand room. Guards and courtiers all turning their heads in his direction. Regulus resents the blush that instantly rushes up his neck. He knows how he sounds. Like a child. For all his winging about not wanting to be King, Sirius was always far better at this than him. Regulus was meant for a quiet life in a monastery somewhere, transcribing manuscripts, translating philosophical works. Not this. Not politics.

James seems to take pity on him, stepping slightly nearer. "He's okay Regulus," he says quietly.

"How can you know that?" he demands.

"He's Sirius. He's always okay."

And isn't that just the truth.

"Let me go get him back huh?"

Regulus gives him a petulant look before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't just give you a ship James. I barely know you."

"You don't trust me?"

Regulus drops his hand. Delivering him a flat look. "No."

James considers him for a moment, before that old familiar smirk returns to his lips. "Then come with me."

Regulus feels his eyes go wide. "What."

"Then come with me," he nods his head towards the doors. "Come on Regulus," he says, still talking quietly, as though that will stop people from hearing. Someone is always listening in this palace. "Leave the safety of the library for once huh? Come with me. We can get him together."

It's mad. Mad and impossible. He can't. For so many reasons he can't. And yet, somehow, the ridiculous man in front of him is making him think maybe he can.

[pandorasfavorite]

Hey ! , can you make dom x reader and they fought into a argument which led the reader leave the apartment for a couple of days and stayed with rhea and dom missing the reader and begging for the reader to come back and find n damian telling dominik to do something for the reader and the reader forgives him and goes to back to him 😊

The shutting door

AN: siempre jodidamente regañándome = always fucking nagging. A little out of character maybe but omg I wrote a lot.

Arguing with him is crushing. Like your heart is being squeezed and squeezed to the point where it will crumble and shatter under pressure. That's how intense it feels to argue with someone you rarely fight with. It feels like it's not actual reality, it's all a figment of your imagination. Nothing has ever been this bad before, where you feel so distraught and strung out.

The day was normal. Wake up, enjoy the morning with him, go to work with Dominik, then come back home to shower and lay with each other. A domestic couple living a domestic life. Of course, every relationship has its problems, whether that has to do with the past or what's to come. Dominik's past really does bite at him, the days when he has to come face to face with his father are the worst.

Maybe it was the sensitivity in your heart that made you disprove Dominik's behavior sometimes. No matter how bad his relationship with his father is does he have to go that far? Does he have to rip up his father's things and beg him to hit his child? You felt it was so far-fetched, almost like Dominik is punishing himself more than his father. Because as soon as the encounter is over Dominik is in a horrible mood, cranky, irritable, and most of all cut off from reality.

Your tears sting your eyes and they pool along your tear line, watching him yell at his father. Real yells, real hurt that his father was never there for him. Dominik didn't deserve that and he doesn't deserve this. You stand beside the announcer's table, a hand over your mouth as you try not to cry. Dominik smacks his father across the face and you can't help but wince. Dominik is just fueled by anger; this isn't the man you vowed to, do you have him all wrong?

Rhea is there too watching Dominik with a smile, encouraging his rage and his anger towards his dad. She stands beside you, putting an arm around you, laughing at the interaction. You furrow your brows angrily, shrugging her arm off of you. You cross your arms in front of you as a reflex, just wanting to protect yourself... and your emotions for as long as you can bare.

When it's all over you walk to the car with Dominik, sliding into the passenger seat with no words exchanged. The only noise is the click of your seat belt and Dominik shifting the gears with a jerk. The air around you feels so tense and suffocating, like if you talked the atmosphere would just thicken with anger. Dominik's face has a permanent frown that stayed there since the beginning of the match. You slide your hand onto his arm, looking at him with the softest eyes, trying to get his attention.

Dominik shrugs your hand off, looking to the side while driving, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He feels as if this life is the worst when his father is involved, he's torturing himself. You slide your hand back into your own space, and your bottom lip wobbles as the tears burn more. It stings painfully at your eyes and you turn your head to look at the window, hoping and praying that maybe the distraction was enough to stop your small cries. But alas it isn't, you sniffle quietly and hold a hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut as two tears run down your rosy cheeks.

Dominik looks over at you because of the sounds, he does a fast double-take, peering forward to see what's happening. He bites his lip just frustrated with everything. He's disappointed that he made you cry. He's so fucking angry at the world. As he's struggling internally with his anger at his father and himself, you attempt to pull yourself together. Wiping the tears off your cheeks when the car pulls into the gravel driveway, the crunches of the rocks under the tires a comforting sound for you now. You know that you are home when you hear it.

Dominik turns off the car but doesn't move to get out, he exhales harshly, running both his hands through his hair now. You unbuckle your seat belt and turn your body towards him, crossing your arms and holding yourself. "Can we talk?", you whisper out unsure. He doesn't try to look at you, pulling the key out of the ignition, "About what?", he says harshly, in a deeper sullen kind of tone. Your mouth opens and closes as you attempt to force the words out of your mouth. Dominik rarely talks to you like this, so rare it takes you by surprise and snatches the words away from you. After a moment of not answering he scoffs and throws his door open, slamming it behind him as he walks into the house.

You take a deep breath trying to calm your breathing. You throw open your door as well walking into the house, shutting the door from where he left it open for you. Dominik tosses the keys onto the coffee table, kicking off his shoes, huffing and puffing like an intolerable child. It all will begin to make sense, it's not the adult Dominik that is hurting. Dominik's inner child is withering from inside, he misses his father: his supportive words, his life lessons, his hugs, and even wrestling side by side with him.

Dominik walks into the kitchen opening the cabinet, reaching for a cup, you tread into the kitchen as well standing close beside him. You've convinced yourself the best way to help him was to try and talk to him one more time. You are nervous about his reaction to what you will say, how will he react? Like normal right? You put your hand on his arm again, this time squeezing the muscle in the small notion that you are there for him. "Dominik, I know that-". He snaps his glass banging on the table loudly, "What do you know?" he says with a mean pointed gaze. His eyes stared directly into yours with nothing but anger. You slip your hand off his arm for the second time that night.

You tilt your head and you step back just an inch, "Dom I'm just trying to help", he scoffs at your caring words. He walks away from you, straight towards the bedroom, "Yea, well don't", his words sharp and dangerous. Your mouth drops open for a second, unbelieving that your fiance is acting this way towards you, he swore he would love you unconditionally. It's starting to feel hazy and your sweetness is fading second by second. As Dominik is walking by he mutters under his breath, what sounds like an insult something he will soon wish he never said. "siempre jodidamente regañándome", he's close to the bedroom thinking you didn't hear him whisper under his breath. Obviously, something he didn't want you to hear.

Your eyes squint, for some reason thinking that was going to help you process better. "What did you say?", you yell down the hallway, walking towards him all the same. Dominik is already inside the bedroom with the door open, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. You walk down the hallway stomping your feet, you in the doorway, staring daggers into the back of his head, "What the fuck did you say Dominik?!", you raise your voice. You only knew a little bit of Spanish but you did know one word for sure, "regañándome" (nagging).

Dominik's breath is picking up in anger and his body is pulsing with something he isn't normally accustomed to. His fist clenched covering his face and your yelling set him off. He flies up off the bed to look you in your eyes and yell what he said, he looks so unrecognizable. His face turned a shade red and a vein was prodding his clenched hands. "I said all you do is fucking nag me! You always nag me! Did you hear it that time?!", the first sentence alone made your angry face break. The rest of his spew was just as painful, every sentence making your heart flinch and cower. No matter how much protection you try and have for yourself, nothing would hurt more than that.

You nod wiping your face harshly of the nasty tears that you cry for him. You have no answer for that, you can't even come up with words to mutter to him anymore. Youre afraid if you look at him everything will pull away from you. You walk a few steps into the room going into the closet in order to grab your travel suitcase off the top shelf. You sling it off and lay it on the bed opening it and throwing water clothes of yours are on the rack. Dominiks erratic breathing has slowed down some, only to pick up again as he watches you stuff clothes into the bag.

For now, he can only stare in disgust with himself. He's so scared right now. He's so scared of losing you the only person that really keeps him sane through it all. You walk over to the dresser shoving socks and underwear into the bag, before zipping up the bag with no care for the neatness of your belongings. You roll the bag onto the hardwood floor and you start walking out, Dominik desperately moves after you. His hands and voice shaking at the reality of it all.

"Wait baby, I didn't mean it!", his voice pleading for a sliver of your forgiveness through it all. You shake your head no still moving forward, daring yourself not to look back and not to fall apart at the sinking sound of his pleas. He's pleading for you not to leave him, all of it feeling just like his father did, how his life kept going in this same pattern. You snatch the keys off of the table, throwing a coat on and stuffing the key into the pocket, streams of tears gliding down your face. Dominik's hands are shaking and his breathing is so strangled, almost on the verge of a panic attack, You fiddle with the door knob. The door is at a crack when you open it and Dominik speaks in a small voice, "At least tell me where you're going", you shut your eyes and put your head down for a moment, pondering and living through the play-by-play of your heartbreak. Dominik grabs your arms, mentally begging you to look at him one more time.

"Please", he whispers, "I can't lose you too". You shake your head no, pulling the door open more for you to walk out. "I'm sorry", you whisper shutting the door behind you with a click.

Dominik stands staring at the door, his chest rising and falling like he's on the verge of drowning. He is hyperfocused on the door, his brain is replaying you leaving, over and over again. The click of the door on repeat, makes his ears ring, Dominik clamps his hands over his ears squeezing his eyes shut so tightly it's painful. The ringing doesn't stop, now your soft sorry is at full volume in his head. He pushes his hands against his ears to the point that his eardrums are being squished. Dominik paces for only a moment, all that just for himself to picture the look on your face when he yelled at you.

His fist balls up tightly and his chest is constricted with a million breaths, "FUCK!", his fist lodged into the wall. He pulls back after staring for a moment, his exhales ragged and broken and his knuckles bloody. Dominik turns around and slides against the wall, the stinging of tears in his eyes comparable to his as a child. He tilts his head back, it smacks against the wall and he curses quieter this time, "fuck".

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Hours pass but it feels like months. Your phone has been blowing up while you lay in Rhea's guest bedroom clutching the pillow, your sobs keeping her and Buddy awake. Rhea sighs and looks at Buddy, Buddy nods and Rhea slides out of the bed, walking to your door and lightly knocking on it before walking in. Her eyes and look soften in pity and sadness for you, she sits beside you on the bed and holds her arms open for you. You hug her like never before, her friendly comfort is something you need to get through this. How are you going to get through this? Your phone rings again and it lights up the room, the background picture of you and Dominik's kisses blaring from the phone. You cry harder holding onto Rhea.

She reaches over and picks up the phone, turning the volume down so you can't hear. "She doesn't want to talk to you right now Dom", he accent thick as a twinge of anger resonates inside of her. "I know, I know, but I need to talk to her", Rhea is silent looking at your puffy eyes and shaking body, "Rhea please, she's my everything", Dominik's broken and wobbling voice cracking through the phone. Rhea squeezes you tighter, "That's up to her. Bye", Rhea clicks the phone off and puts it on silence. She wraps both arms around you rocking you comfortably.

Dominik is suffering without you, he can't bring himself to eat, and his stomach hurts too much at the pain he brought you. Days passed and he felt so sick. Sick of himself. Sick of life. Sick of the shit that he gets served every day. He just needs you back in his life, he wasn't ready for the most important person in his life to leave like that.

Dominik picks up his phone dialing a friend, at a loss for what to do.

"Hello?".

"Hey", Dominik says with little confidence.

"Sup man? How's it been?", Damian speaks back in his deep curt voice.

"Not good man. She hasn't been home in days, we got into an argument, and I fucked up", Dominik spills to Damian expecting his anger much like Rhea's.

"Shit dude. What are you going to do?", Damian replies surprised that the power couple struggled.

"There's nothing I can do, she doesn't want to talk to me man", Dominik hears Damian scoff from the other side of the phone almost mockingly.

"Stop being a pussy and go talk to her. She won't listen until she sees your effort", Dominik nods, forgetting he can't be seen. Maybe that's what he needed all along, someone to tell him to man up. Someone needed to tell him to let the past be the past and you tried to do that yourself, Dominik just didn't want to hear the truth.

Dominik gathers himself with confidence now, cleaning himself as fast as he could. He turns around and looks for the keys only to curse when he realizes you took them with you. He orders a car and continuously runs a hand through his hair anxiously. The driver takes him to a florist to get him the perfect flowers. The flowers symbolize apology and forgiveness, exactly what he is hoping for.

When Dominik gets dropped off at the front doorstep of Rhea's he lets go of the breath he's been holding since he got into the car. He knocks on the door loudly, trying not to rock on his heels out of anticipation. Rhea slings open the door, and her kind smile switches into one of anger, her knuckles turning white from the grip she has on the door. "What?", she says with malice, Dominik drops his head in shame, "Can I talk to her? Please?", he needs you and he needs like. Rhea opens her mouth to deny but you step out from behind the door.

You put a hand on her shoulder and you smile kindly, "Rhea it's okay, Thank you", Rhea looks at you for a moment and nods. Only turned her head to give Dominik an annoyed look even though they were friends. You cross your arms and lean against the frame of the door saying no words. Dominik holds the floors out to you, and you can't help but melt at the notion. You almost start speaking but Dominik shakes his head no, not wanting your beautiful heart to cut his apology short.

"Im a dick", he says plain and straightforwardly, you just nod agreeing pursing your lips some. "I'm a dick and I treated you horribly. I yelled at you because I was mad at myself and my dad. I had no right", he looks up at you with a sheen of tears making his eyes glassy, "I had no right baby". He sniffles some, he pulls himself together, "I know flowers and a shitty unrehearsed apology isn't going to change what I did, but it cant live without you. I'm getting help for it, I never want you to think you're the problem when it's completely me". He rushes out the apology, every fiber of his being is dedicated to you.

You can't help but feel the familiar feeling of love and intense emotion build up inside your chest, burning at your eyes like it has been for the past few days. You sniffle and a tear runs down your face and Dominik feels himself hurt again, God seeing you cry is like a stab to his chest. He wants to reach out and hold you but it's not his place right now. Dominik isn't full of himself, he sinks down on his knees the flowers squeezed in his hands. He looks up at you with the pleading eyes that make you melt, "Please?" he pleads to you on his knees.

You can't help but nod and wipe your tears away, falling to your knees with him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Dominik drops the flowers and he finally gets to put his arms around your waist again. His eyes are wide and hugs you tightly breathing in everything about you after he has been deprived for days. After minutes he can't bring himself to pull away, he's buried his face into the crook of your neck not wanting to let go in case it is all a dream. He pulls back just enough to touch his forehead to you, "You've never been a bother and you sure as fuck have never nagged me", you kiss his lips with a small peck, "I should've never said that", he whispers against your lips looking into your eyes with sincerity. "I love you" you whisper back an admission of your forgiveness. "I love you", he shakes his head and pushes on your back, your lips falling against his and your body against his like usual.

[pomodoriyum]

Ok im really curious about your Goodsir/Des Voeux tag. I've never really considered this ship but now that you've mentionned it, i'm curious ! Take this ask as an opportunity to elaborate about them if you want, i want to read more :3

- @strogoff-era

Hi Earl! hope you're doing well!!

uhmmmmmm, well, you see, it's definitely a very nonsense ship. there is absolutely no reason for it, and it's not something I think about a lot...

HOWEVER. I do have some thoughts, especially around their few interactions on screen.

Le Visconte toe removal scene: des voeux seems kind of impressed that goodsir can have a bit of a spine/waspish tongue

They are both very close in rank as far as I can tell; with Goodsir maybe being slightly above des voeux in the hierarchy of rank

Des voeux consistently looks to goodsir to gauge his reaction and to gain his support in the few scenes they're in. Specifically, in Gore (1x02), right as they discover the overturned boat, Des voeux switches from leading the men down towards the boat to hanging back nervously, and then he looks to goodsir (somewhat incredulously) when Goodsir suggests they go down together to check the boat out. I read this as CDV not wanting too appear "more chicken" (lack of a better term) than Goodsir, while also checking in with him to see about how they should proceed (<- i think this is definitely overanalysis/stretching the interpretation, because more likely than anything he was just looking at the person who happened to be speaking at the time, so take with a fistful of salt). Next scene they're interacting in is in 1x05 (First shot a Winner), where des voeux interrupts goodsir as he's tending to someone's wounds and demands his attention (rather rudely-- but it *is* near the realms of an emergency). He's very visibly nervous re: Jacko-- I imagine he's gone to fetch Goodsir b/c Jacko is goodsir's responsibility/goodsir told the crew that he wants to be informed if her behavior alters significantly. In any case, des voeux bends to Goodsir's directions/instructions re:Jacko, and again seems to keep looking at him for cues on how to proceed (the "are we going to bash its head in yet" looks until Goodsir makes him lower the tool he snatched from one of the mates). Overall this scene really conveys (to me!) that CDV relies on goodsir's authority and expertise when he's panicking/out of his depth. theres some age dynamics at play here i think, too, since CDV was in his very early twenties and i dont think many of his crewmates would've given him an easy time, given he's essentially their middle manager and yet also much younger than them. Plus, he's middle class, so there's going to be tension there. essentially, this reads to me as a scene where des voeux sprints to his nearest trusted senior and says WTF HELPPPP HELPPP b/c he doesnt wanna deal with the problem himself and is probably more than a little out of his depth (nepotism baby is not prepared for the frightening monkey death. also, if i wanted to sound completely off my rocker, I'd say it was a tie-in to how he asks silna for help later and is denied any mercy b/c of his own cruelty and hatred.)

Goodsir seems to be relatively well respected (and well liked!) by the crew, though i do think they rib him to his face quite a bit. I do not think CDV was very well liked (even if peglar laughed at his jokes in 1x02), esp given his age and (relative) position of power.

There's something in the way of the absolute disgust and hidden fright in CDV's voice when he tells crozier how Goodsir committed suicide-- CDV was similar to hickey in that he'd do anything to survive, so goodsir taking his own life was probably both confusing and disturbing, because CDV was unlikely to be able to understand that action at all.

at the same time, i think that both goodsir and CDV tend to view other human beings as objects. Goodsir in the sense that he's a curious scientist, CDV in that he just doesn't care to extend humanity to other people for his own mental convenience.

Absolutely none of this really means anything, but I do like to marinate on it.

Main takeaway from the show: they do not like each other and have very different values, esp about what it means to survive versus what it means to live (moral arguments fun times).

pom's conclusion: they should have bad sex about it. (something something CDV looking for a reassurance he's not going to get versus goodsir's 'what the fuck is this weird little freak on about now. i want to dissect him and hes a bad person so i wont even feel bad about it')

I did write a fic about them here, though i was trying to figure out CDV's characterization at the time & now there's a lot about the fic that bothers me. ive left it up for posterity though. enjoy? warning: it's mostly porn.

thanks for the ask!