#I love hearing how the characters are built up over just a few appearances

[iffeelscouldkill]

Throwback to that time Arkady got the priority status of the Iris case bumped up all by herself

Starship Iris, season 1 episode 2:

AGENT: We have verified the identity of Arkady Patel, a.k.a. Kay Grisham, a.k.a. Ishani Kanetkar. She is a known con artist, a registered subversive, and a suspected army deserter. Too many other crimes to detail here.

[...]

The Starship Iris Case is currently classified as priority six. Due to the involvement of the criminal known as Arkady Patel, it is strongly recommended that this be revisited.

- You can't tell me that Arkady didn't cackle a bit when she listened to this (because the crew have definitely all listened to the reports they starred in). Also:

Starship Iris, season 1, episode 4:

AGENT: Our team is still working to find and tag every false identity connected with the fugitive Arkady Patel. Verified: Kay Grisham, Ishani Kanetkar, and Sister Theresa Margaret. Suspected: Duchess Calpurnia Higginsworth-Cobb.

ILU ARKADY. Who else badly wants a spin-off miniseries entitled The Strange Shenanigans of Arkady Patel?

[jobean12-blog]

The Last Time We Say Goodbye

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 1,604

Summary: It's only recently that you and Joel have been more that just friends so when he has to go out on a search with Tommy it leaves you with nothing but time to think...

Author's Note: I missed him and wanted something desperate but soft! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweet Daisy!

Warnings: some light angst at Joel being away, tension, soft sweetness, soft smut, oral (f rec), p in v, a curse or two

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The time away had only made things more complicated.

You felt frustrated. You were spending far too much time thinking of him. Missing him. Worrying about him.

Your time together was always on your mind, and you had dreams of him almost nightly, none of them satisfying enough.

There was no way he could ever give you a precise time for his return. You couldn’t even be sure that he would return. But somehow, on that cool summer evening, while you’re sitting on the porch, mindlessly swaying back and forth on the rocking chair he built, you hear  a commotion by the gates and you know the group is back.

You can only hope he’s with them.

Standing, you take a deep breath and try to calm the butterflies in your stomach. The sound of pounding hooves has your fingers twisting and you stand on your tippy toes to get a better look at the riders.

You don’t see him and you’re breathing quickens. Starting to pace back and forth you will your mind to stop racing and your heartbeat to calm. Without thinking, you stop mid step and turn toward the oncoming group, searching through the familiar faces for the one you want.

Your breath catches in your throat when a head of familiar, gray-streaked brown hair appears. There he is, looking better than you’d ever seen him. How…after two weeks on the road does someone come back looing better?

His hair is a tousled mess of curls as usual, no doubt from his large hands running through it regularly. His long legs hang over either side of the horse, muscles flexed and straining against his tight jeans. In the warmer weather, his shirt is unbuttoned at the neck and his sleeves rolled up over his forearms.

He looks tired and his beard is more unkempt than usual, but that’s not what has your body thrumming. His eyes have been searching the area, but the moment they meet yours, his lips lift into a smile and before you can stop it, you feel your own grow, wide and relieved.

With ease, he slides from the horse and takes a few long strides to meet you out in the middle of the road. His features grow tense while you both wait for the other to speak.

“Hi,” you say quietly, trying to ease some of the apprehension between you.

“Hiya darlin’,” he answers.

“Are you ok?” you ask, letting your eyes roam down his body in search of injuries.

He pauses for a moment before answering.

“I am now.”

There are people bustling around you, loved ones searching for each other and cries of greeting ringing out, but the only thing you can focus on is the growing tension and every inch of space that separates you.

Someone rushes by and bumps into you, pushing you toward him. His hand instinctively lands on your waist to steady you and you look up to find him staring.

Your skin heats at the familiar look of hunger in his eyes. You mutter “thank you,” and look away.

“You must be thirsty? Hungry?”

He nods and makes a gesture toward his horse. You watch as he walks over and starts to lift his belongings from the saddle, distracted as the muscles of his back tighten his shirt.

Tommy yells something and he answers, breaking you out of your daze.

“How ‘bout that drink?” he asks when he’s standing close once again.

You move around your small kitchen in silence, trying to busy yourself with making him a small meal. All you want to do is reach over and touch him, to tell him that you need him to touch you.

All your thoughts make it impossible for you to concentrate on the task, your time apart having done nothing to lessen his hold over you. If anything, it’s stronger.

With a sigh you reach for a plate, too distracted to react as it slips free from your hand and crashes to the ground.

He rushes up behind you, taking your hand in his and checking it for any cuts. His calloused fingertips search your skin, and you feel every sensation. His scent fills the space you occupy, and he surrounds you completely.

“Are you okay, darlin’?”

You turn to face him, your lips parting at the intensity in his gaze.

“It’s just been a long day,” you say, searching for any excuse.

“Hmm,” he muses, continuing to study you.

His gaze flickers to your mouth and you need him to kiss you. As if drawn in, you lean closer as he leans in to meet you.

Suddenly, a knock sounds at the door and Tommy comes in, his smile fading when he realizes his obvious interruption.

“Sorry big brother,” he mutters. “But you forgot this.”

He holds out Joel’s knife before looking at you with an apologetic smile. Joel takes it and then carefully slides it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Tommy disappears out the door as quickly as he had come in.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly and when you look back at Joel you have no time to react as he grips your face between his hands and pulls you into his chest.

When your lips meet, you make a strangled sound of surrender, immediately combing your fingers through his hair.

He holds you steady, pulling away to press a kiss to one corner of your mouth, then the other before he lingers in the middle.

You press your curves into him and he bumps into the counter, then the kitchen table as you shift and finally meet the wall as he pins you against something solid.

You can smell, taste and feel him but none of it is enough.

He grabs your ass, your thighs, slides his hands along your waist and up over your breasts, seeming to need to touch every part of you simultaneously. Your hands roam his body frantically, yanking on his shirt until the buttons pop off and it falls from his shoulder to the floor.

His fingers trace the hem of your dress, and you moan, bringing your hand to rest on his, guiding his movements.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs in a voice rough with need. “Tell me the things you want me to do to you.”

“Everything,” you whisper against his mouth.

He groans your name and slips his hands under your dress.

“I need to see all of you,” he says, teasing your mouth.

In one swift movement he has the dress up and over your head and stops dead at the sight of what’s been hiding beneath.

He takes a step back, leaving you pressed against the wall.

Your matching satin and lace set has him licking his lips and he pushes a restraining hand through his hair.

“Fuck, you’re stunning,” he says, moving closer again and running his fingertips along the swell of your breasts.

A visible shiver runs across your skin and his hand travels upward, tracing the outline of your collarbone, along your neck and finally to your jaw.

He drags your mouth to his and you fumble clumsily with his pants. His hands wander down the curve of your spine, back up again along your sides to your breasts, and feel every inch of your skin.

The kiss never breaks as you stumble back toward the couch and pull at his remaining clothes.

He stops just when your calves hit the cushions, slowly tracing your ribs with his knuckles before sliding to the clasp of your bra to release it.

Pulling you closer, he groans into your mouth as your soft breasts graze his chest and your fingers slide lower, circling his cock and lightly squeezing.

He spins and sits down, resting his hands on your waist and holding you still in front of him. Reaching down he slips his thumbs under the fabric at your hips and delicately drags it down your legs.

With soft kisses to your stomach, he moves downward, continuing to taste until you coat his tongue and erase everything else.

“I’m fuckin’ losin’ my mind darlin’,” he whispers against your ear as he drags you into his lap. “I need to be inside you.”

Your hips rock over him, his cock sliding against your wetness as your sighs and moans fill the room.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” you whimper. “Please Joel. I can’t wait any longer.”

He brings his eyes to yours, his lips hovering just an inch away as he holds your gaze and guides himself deep inside you.

“Oh my god,” you moan.

“Say it again,” he demands, breathless.

“Please Joel.”

He starts to thrust into you more steadily and you brace your hands on his shoulders, easily meeting each movement.  

“I can’t get enough of this,” he whispers against your lips. “I want you like this every day.”

His name leaves your lips like a prayer and his grip tightens.

“Come on darlin’. Let me see you come all over me. It’s all I’ve thought about.”

Your thighs tighten around his waist, and you squeeze his cock, your breath hitching before you muffle your cries against his neck. He follows right behind, hips stuttering and breathing ragged.

He slumps back against the couch and cradles you to his chest, his arms secured around you.

He moves his face close to yours, noses brushing and lips delicate.

“Stay with me,” you whisper.

His lips trace your jaw and stop just below your ear. He places a soft kiss to the spot before whispering, “I’m not goin' anywhere.”

@lizette50 @hiddles-rose @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989

[icarryitin]

Episode 18: Help Me?

spencer reid/gn!reader

i love being in this guy’s brain there is just something so Character about him🧡 and happy birthday to you anon!!🥳

series masterlist

word count: 4.5k // warnings: injury description (dislocated shoulder), mentions of injections and pills for pain relief, poor and inaccurate medical knowledge, non-sexual undressing, would you believe me if i told you the sexual tension in the second half of this was accidental? for those reasons this is 18+

summary: You get injured on a case, and Spencer gets to play nurse. It’s a special kind of torture for both of you.

“Try it, see what happens.”

You appear out of the shadows ahead of them, the gun in your hands aimed carefully at the Unsub’s back, like a goddamn guardian angel.

The guy isn’t going to give up without a fight, even with three federal agents to contend with, that much is obvious. His grip on his weapon is far shakier than any of yours, fingers twitching ever closer to the trigger. You’ve made the split second decision to launch yourself at him before he has the chance to fire off a shot.

Which means Spencer has a front row seat to the sickening thud of your side against the ground when you tackle the Unsub. He’s grateful that he and Hotch aren’t staring down the barrel of a gun anymore, but less grateful that it’s come at the price of the grimace clear on your face. You’ll be bruised for sure, going down as hard as you do.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asks you as he hauls the Unsub up by his cuffed wrists. You take a moment to check yourself over, mentally inventory every joint and nerve, before you nod. Spencer holds a hand out towards you, which is taken without hesitation and you start pulling yourself up off the ground.

The crack of your shoulder as it pops out of the socket is so loud that the vibration of it tingles through your interlaced fingers and all the way up to his own.

A sharp yelp, followed by a weak whimper that makes his stomach flip, and he drops your hand like it’s scalding hot. You pull it into your chest with your good arm, palm cradling your elbow to give yourself a little support. Maybe you’d hit the ground a little harder than you meant to. It’s definitely dislocated. He can’t help but feel like it’s his fault.

Maybe that’s why he’s manoeuvring around you, where you sit pouting in a dusty heap. It’s what he tells himself anyway, as he slips large hands underneath your FBI vest – fingers pressed snugly against your ribs, separated by only a thin shirt, and he carefully helps you to your feet. The action has his face dangerously close to yours, so close that he’s terrified you’ll be able to hear how shallow his breaths are. But you seem to be far too focused on your own breathing to really register his proximity. Hotch is ahead already, Unsub in tow, but you’re the only thing Spencer is worried about right now. Someone else can collect the abandoned firearm from the ground, he has more important things to do. Like getting you into the care of a professional instead of his clumsy hands.

“Can you walk?”

A rhetorical question if he’s ever asked one. It’s your arm he’s pulled out of the socket, not a leg. You nod anyway, gently, but you don’t pull away from him. Instead your voice is soft, unsure.

“Help me?”

Of course he does, as if he’d be able to do anything else.

Does he really need to keep a hold on you, help you across the warehouse floor and out to an ambulance? Probably not. Does he do it anyway? Absolutely. You don’t seem to mind the closeness, judging by the way you lean into the solidity of him as the two of you shuffle towards the open door. He relishes in it, just a little. Because for all the camaraderie and familiarity that has built your friendship over the past few years, touches like this are so rare. Rare and usually instigated by you, when a case has hit him a little too close to home. It’s precious. To have you in his arms the way he’s wanted, wished for, literally dreamed about. There’s an irony in his earlier misplaced attempt to help you up, somewhere. Why can he only have you this close when one of you is hurting?

Raised eyebrows from the rest of the team be damned, he’ll carry you to the ambulance if he has to. He doesn’t but he’d try if you asked.

Spencer has seen all manner of terrible things. He’s seen them happen to strangers, friends, he’s been the one under the spotlight more than once. But he finds himself wholly unprepared to watch you wince as you hop up onto the back of the ambulance, legs dangling over the edge, arm still cradled protectively close to your chest. You flinch almost violently when the paramedic approaches you with outstretched hands which, in turn, only makes you hiss in pain. Your apology is small, quiet, sheepish. Everything he knows you not to be, which only makes him feel that much worse about being the reason you’re in this position in the first place. He’s not, the little logical voice in his brain tells him it was the fall you took, but he’s the one who offered to help you up. Can’t take that back.

“Do you have to?” You’re arguing with the paramedic when his brain checks back in to the conversation.

A sling has been placed by the open medical bag beside you, but it’s the object next to it that has your eyes wider than dinner plates. A needle, carefully sealed in its little package, ready and waiting to give you the pain relief that all three of you know you’re in desperate need of. There’s no way your shoulder can be reset here without it.

“You look at dead bodies all day, and you’re telling me you’re afraid of this?” The paramedic means well, he knows she does, but the grating sound of the sterile packaging being ripped open only serves to shrink you away from it even further.

“Phobias are rarely rational. In fact, the dictionary definition refers to one as being an extreme or irrational fear of, or aversion to, something. Phobias relating to medical procedures are pretty common actually.”

The barely hidden eye roll he gets from the paramedic would suggest he’s not helping the situation, but it’s the look that you give him. The one he gets across coroner slabs and conference tables and crime scenes, that tells him he is.

“I wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t want to, considering this is kind of my fault,” Spencer holds his hand up between you, wiggling his fingers in front of a sad little smile, “But squeeze away.”

“I don’t know, I might break it.” You’re going for a light-hearted joke, but your gritted teeth pay you no favours.

“Then we’ll call it even.”

You take his hand, and he wonders if he’ll need to ask the paramedic to break out the defibrillator next – judging by the way his heart stutters in his chest.

And, to your credit, you only almost break it. The first squeeze is tight, muscles in your forearm trembling as the needle plunges deep into your shoulder. It won’t be enough to completely numb you, the paramedic confirms, but it’ll go a fair way towards dulling the pain. You should really go to a hospital, a bodge job in the back of an ambulance isn’t exactly Bureau protocol, but he knows that isn’t happening. God forbid you ever get shot, he’s sure that getting you treated properly for something like that would be more traumatic for you than any injury.

The second squeeze isn’t something he’s prepared for. You hang onto his hand as though your life depends on it once the paramedic has decided the painkillers have kicked in enough, though her fingers on your shoulder still have you tensing. She tells you to relax, uselessly. Instead, you turn your head away, bury it into Spencer’s shoulder, and dig your nails into the back of his hand. His knuckles crack under the pressure, synchronised popping absolutely miniscule compared to the thunderous pop your shoulder gives when the paramedic manipulates it back into place. Tears seep through his shirt as they dampen his shoulder, the tension in your jaw gives away the sob you’re biting back. You swallow it before you pull your face from the security of his warmth – brave face, as always – and dutifully allow the paramedic to tug the Kevlar vest over your head to make way for the sling she’s prepared.

You’re too on edge to really pay attention to the instructions she’s giving you, too preoccupied on slowing your heart rate to hear about the over the counter pain meds you should take, how long you need to keep the sling on. So, Spencer listens. He remembers, as he always does. He nods and tells her he’ll make sure you do everything by the book, because he knows you won’t be on your way to the doctor’s office in a hurry if your recovery doesn’t go to plan.

JJ popping up in your field of vision seems to lighten your mood, the stiffness falls away and you choke out a laugh alongside a sarcastic comment about heroics being above your paygrade. It’s fake, the laughter. Your spine is still rigid, smile a little too tight to be true. But nobody else seems to notice. They’re just glad you’re alright. Something about your rapid mood change scratches an itch in his brain, the smallest part of it that’s just a little smug. Because you don’t let on about your fear to the others. Just him.

Spencer piles into the back of the second SUV after you, behind Rossi and Emily, and takes it upon himself to make sure you’re strapped in. Admittedly, you could manage it yourself, but he doesn’t want you to. There are eyes on the back of his head when he leans over to carefully pull the seatbelt across you, when he makes sure to steer clear of your sling, but they’re easy to ignore when you’re watching him the way you are. Your quiet affirming hum follows the click of the seat belt plug when you meet his questioning gaze, calming the pounding in his chest and he doesn’t pull back right away. Involuntarily, his eyes drop to your lips for the barest of moments.

He could kiss you.

Right here, right now. In the back of the SUV, with your arm in a sling, and your colleagues watching on. He could do it. But he doesn’t.

He knows what he wants your first kiss to be like – a little pocket of his brain is dedicated to it, plays scenario after scenario in the moments before he settles down to sleep every night. Silly little bedtime stories.

Except they’re not silly, because somewhere along the way he stumbled out of his harmless little crush and into something much more serious. He knows what it is, he won’t put a name to it. Instead, he daydreams. It’s not always the same, the location varies - sometimes you’re at work, in the bullpen or the conference room, or obscured from the rest of the team by the metallic bulk of an SUV. Sometimes you’re in his apartment, in the kitchen, by the window in the living room, in the doorway of his bedroom. Sometimes it’s just a street corner, at night, at midday, dawn, dusk. But you, you’re always the same. You always look at him with a smile that could light the entire city, and he just tells you.

Spills his guts out all over the floor, every part of him left raw and vulnerable, as he tells you he loves you - has always loved you. Maybe even before he met you. He tells you how his heart stopped in his chest that first morning you walked into the BAU office, how he nearly spilled his coffee down his shirt, how his glasses steamed up with the heat from his cheeks. How Derek, JJ, Garcia, the entire team has been teasing him for literal years. How sometimes he thinks he catches you looking at him, but that’d be just too good to be true wouldn’t it?

And then your smile grows, and you take a step further into his space until there’s scarcely any room between you. That’s when you tell him you do look at him, you look at him all the time. Because you love him, just as hopelessly and desperately and effortlessly as he loves you. That’s when he kisses you. When he grasps your face in his hands and takes a deep breath of you before crashing into you with a bruising force. You take it, of course you do, just as eagerly as he pours himself into it. The kiss of a lifetime. That’s how he’d do it.

But he can’t do any of that, not now.

So, he pulls back, plugs his own seatbelt in, and lets himself wallow in the post-case stillness that settles in the car. Punctuated by Penelope’s voice through the speaker on your phone though it may be. She’s relieved, a little mad that you’d put yourself in harm’s way, but ultimately glad you’re safe. He smiles to himself at that, he can’t help but agree.

Quantico’s parking garage is dark this time of night, of course it would be, but the chill of the concrete seeps into his bones. You shiver beside him as he helps you slide out of the SUV. Goodbyes are short, sweet, exhausted. Each member of the team wandering towards their own vehicles, leaving you and Spencer standing alone under the fluorescent lights.

“Let’s get you home, superhero.” He grins at you as his hand settles gently on the small of your back, guiding you towards the street exit.

It’s not far to the train station, the streets are still busy even at this time of night. Tourists and businessmen and politicians all alike. But you don’t get jostled in the slightest, he makes sure of it - carefully weaving through the throngs to get you safely to your platform. It’s only as he steps onto the train with you that you realise his own home is in the complete opposite direction. It’s borderline unfair how fuzzy he feels at your concern for his own journey.

“I said I was getting you home, not getting you to the station.” He can’t help the fond smile that settles on his features as you look up at him from your seat. He’s chosen to stand, partially in front of you, as a sort of makeshift barrier between your injured arm and any potential commuters who might stumble into you. He holds his hand out to you expectantly and it takes you another moment to fish your keys out of your bag. They’re placed softly in his palm, your fingers barely brushing his. The touch is so gentle compared to the way you almost squeezed that same hand to death only a couple of hours earlier. He just about manages to suppress the shudder that threatens to buckle his knees, and he counts his lucky stars that your building is only a block away from the train’s destination.

The thought only occurs to Spencer when he’s halfway over the threshold of your apartment, too preoccupied with getting you back safely to realise he’s actually never been in your home before. Organised chaos is the term he’d use. The open plan kitchen and living area is tidy but cluttered, books of every genre piled on shelves with no real strategy, a haphazard stack of second hand vinyls that are mostly Tom Waits sit atop an old record player, a small collection of cacti in mismatched terracotta pots are lined up on your little kitchen windowsill. The cupboards are a deep green, which should really be at odds with the peach tinged wash on the walls, but the combination is just soft enough to work. It’s very you.

“I can take care of myself, you don’t have to stay.”

Your name leaves his lips in the same tone it usually does before he can stop it, the same heavy sigh that wraps around the letters more often than not. God, you know exactly how to push his buttons, even when you don’t mean to. You’re missing the point entirely – he wants to take care of you. It’s so rare that you let him.

“Nice try,” He says as he sets your work bag down on one of the chairs at the round kitchen table, “Get changed, I’ll fix up some dinner.”

“You will?” The teasing grin on your face is either because you don’t think he can cook, or because you can’t. He’s leaning towards the former.

“Hey, I’m a man of many talents.”

You stand there for another long few seconds, just watching him. It’s not dissimilar to the look you gave him at the ambulance, in the SUV, on the train home. Like there’s something you’re desperate to say to him; only, you’re not sure how to say it. So you turn on your heel and close the bedroom door behind you.

Spencer physically has to shake off the weight of your gaze before he can move again, even after you’re gone. His own bag finds its place beside yours, jacket folded and draped neatly over the back of the metal chair. It’s the kind of dining set he’d expect to see outside a Parisian cafe, as opposed to being tucked in the corner of a DC apartment. Chipped white metalwork and all, probably originally a garden set, but it fits the eclectic thrift store vibe you’ve curated throughout the space. He finds himself drifting towards your overstuffed bookshelf, to the beat up record player and the pile of albums - the protective sleeve of each one shabbier than the last. He’d been right at first glance, the collection is mostly second-hand Tom Waits albums - with a little Queen, The Magnetic Fields, and Fleetwood Mac in the mix. The album on top is the most dog-eared, and he doesn’t have to employ a single one of his profiling skills to know this one is the most loved, most played, and he’s sure you’ll appreciate the comfort of some background noise. So he’s concentrating on sliding the record out of the sleeve, carefully placing it onto the turntable, and setting the needle down.

The bluesy first bars of Tom Waits’ Heartattack and Vine fill the room at the same time you open the bedroom door, looking more than a little sorry for yourself. And, to his credit, Spencer does a pretty good job of not laughing at the picture of you in the open doorway.

You’ve got yourself tangled up, all wrinkled shirtsleeves and oozing embarrassment - one sleeve dangles empty by your side where the other is still firmly encased by the sling, your sole free arm pokes out of the bottom of your sweater. Your eyebrows are drawn as you look everywhere but at him.

“Can you…?” You trail off. A breath pushes its way out of your lungs, half-sigh and half-helpless laugh.

“Come on.” He erases the distance between you in two strides, hands turning you at the waist before he can even really think about what he’s doing. You shuffle into the room ahead of him, soft rug shielding your socked feet from the cold of the wooden floor. He’s pleased to find the same decorative tastes extend through to your bedroom.

Another bookshelf, also stuffed to the brim with enough material to start your own bookstore. A little wooden desk by the window paired with a chair that doesn’t match, the wall to the right of it is plastered in multicoloured post it notes - a few of them catch his eye, reminders and ideas and shopping lists. Your bedspread is the same dark green as your kitchen cabinets, although it’s mostly obscured by a mess of patchwork blankets and jewel toned decorative pillows. Your sunshine plush has pride of place balanced against the left-hand bedpost on top of the headboard. Even without an eidetic memory, he’d remember the look on your face when he won it for you. Undercover at a travelling carnival in Oregon, the job at hand was to lure out an Unsub whose tastes fit you to a T, but he’d been uncharacteristically powerless to resist at least trying to get something for you. Your cover was a couple, anyway. He’d only been in character. Not only do you still have it, but it has pride of place, and something about it has his pride rearing its head.

You’re fussing with your pyjamas, a threadbare hoodie and garishly patterned sweatpants, when he turns his attention back to you. The reality of the situation seems to hit you both in the same moment.

Spencer is going to have to undress you.

It’s not how he imagined it would be - and that is definitely not something he needs to think about right now. He could keep his eyes closed? Although not being able to see where he should put his hands is arguably more dangerous than it would be to pay attention. He has to clear his throat before he can find his voice.

“I’m going to have to take this off,” He gestures to the sling, hoping he sounds less noticeably wrecked to you than he does to himself, “But we’ll go slow, okay?”

It’s cruel, is what it is, to watch you nod your agreement, to witness your unshakeable trust that he won’t hurt you so closely. Ultimately, it’s not overly different to the way he checks over your protective vest. There’s a strategy, a system to it just the same as the task that lies ahead, and he’ll follow it step by scientific step.

The sling is first, straps carefully undone and the support sliding off your arm - you both support it, your elbow in his palm where yours settles under your wrist. The one free hand you have between you, Spencer’s, works your shirt up over your uninjured shoulder and tugs it over your head. His eyes never drift beyond what you’ve asked of him, though it isn’t for lack of temptation. He slides the remaining sleeve off of your injured arm with a touch so light that neither of you wouldn’t know it was there if not for the skim of his fingers over your bare skin. Your hoodie replaces your work shirt just as carefully, in reverse. Injured arm first, head, uninjured arm. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth absentmindedly as he concentrates on looping the sling over the thick cotton, securing your arm tight to your chest again. Job done, and without too much embarrassment. He’d call that a success.

“Would you mind-” You struggle for a moment, “The clasp is fiddly.”

Spencer doesn’t know what you mean at first, and then it clicks - and it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room. You need him to undo your trousers. He can do that, he can do it. He might feel like he’s about to spontaneously combust over the request, but he can do it.

There’s not a whole lot he wouldn’t do for you, to tell the truth.

It takes him longer than it should to slip the hook out of its clasp, usually nimble fingers fumbling under the weight of both of your gazes. But he doesn’t stop there. Because his usually brilliant mind is buzzing with static and his hands are moving of their own accord and the teeth of the zip on your trousers as he pulls it down is loud.

Spencer pulls back like he’s been shocked, while your eyes remain firmly glued to his hands. Hands that now wring themselves with anxiety as he quietly asks if you can manage the rest. You don’t respond verbally - it takes another long second, but you start shimmying the trousers off of your hips with your free hand. The slightest glimpse of bare thigh has him spinning on his heel and marching towards the kitchen in search of food.

He’s not thinking about the soft material of your sweatpants being pulled carefully over your legs in the other room, as he roots around in your kitchen cupboards. He’s not. A can of chopped tomatoes, a handful of half-empty spice jars, just about enough dry spaghetti for two. It’ll do. A pot of water is set on the stove to boil, the noise is enough of a distraction when the bedroom door opens again behind him. You shuffle about for a few minutes, digging around your shelves and Tom Waits’ gravelly tone cuts off abruptly to be replaced by the softer voice of Stevie Nicks instead. The volume ticks down a couple of notches before you join Spencer in the kitchen as he warms the tomatoes and spices alongside the boiling noodles, moving around him with the same ease you do in the office. You pull out two bowls that don’t match - one is shallower and wider and glazed a sunshine yellow, there’s a chip in the lip of it. The other one is smaller, deeper, glazed navy blue instead and with a cheeky face etched into the pottery. Its nose protrudes slightly, rounded out on one side. He can’t help his smile when he dishes out two equal portions and the red sauce drips down onto the bowl’s nose. He swipes at the mess with his thumb before handing you the bowl.

“Thank you.” You search out his gaze this time, urging him to look you in the eye. For cooking, or what he’s sure is your favourite bowl, or staying. He’s not sure. He wants to tell you that you don’t have to thank him, he’d drop anything and everything at any moment if you needed him to. But something in your eyes has stolen his voice, a flicker of something he’s far too terrified to acknowledge. So he only smiles, takes the yellow dish in his hands, and follows you to the comfort of your vintage floral couch.

It’s not a table dinner kind of evening, you seem to have decided. Although the precarious balance of the bowl on your knees suggests otherwise, as you try to eat one handed. Spencer leans forward to pull the cushion from behind his back, his own dinner temporarily abandoned on the floor in front of him, and he picks up your bowl to slide the cushion across your lap in lieu of a tray. Your laugh is quiet, you don’t look at him, but whatever tension had built in the bedroom dissipates with the sound.

Even so, he shoots off a text to Penelope while you’re preoccupied with your spaghetti, asks if she can lend you a helping hand for the next few days if you need one. You shouldn’t need the sling for more than a week anyway. She responds with a smiley face and a kiss almost immediately. It’s not the first time in his life he’s thanked whatever mystical force is responsible for Penelope Garcia.

Spencer will corral you to the doctor’s office for a checkup in a few days, he’ll make sure you do your stretches, he’ll set alarms for your painkillers. And, ultimately, he’ll come back if you ask him to. He’ll help you in and out of your pyjamas if that’s what you want, of course he will.

Regardless of the way it sets his insides aflame. He’ll do it for you.

yes i know reader inserts are blank slates yes this apartment is basically just my own flat no i don’t care thank u🧡🧡

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hey ! How are you? I don’t know if you’re still taking requests, but I had a request for Lancelot (4koa). I’m obsessed with this character. Could you do a headcanon (or just a one-shot) about a jealous Lancelot? The reader receives a lot of attention because of their sunny personality or beauty. Thank you <3

of course, who wouldn't love this sassy blonde prince? He might be a little ooc in this writing though.

He finally had the time to actually, and truly spend it with you. Focusing on nothing else but you, nobody else and especially not object of legend despite what he hears throughout the lands of Britannia, which he had only been through before. So in assurance, he had personally made sure you knew that he was keeping his attention on you, for the day. Which you were in high spirits about, as there were many things of topics that you wanted to bring up in passing, but had never gotten time to do so as the both of you were very busy, on both ends really. So here and now in actuality was rather nice, that Lancelot had made sure that you were the sole focus for the day.

Lancelot had taken to a known, but not very busy path as he knew there weren't many whom had taken a liking to traveling such a path. Though what left him in a small moment of confusion is as to why they wouldn't want to take it. No matter.

He was here with you, "Im assuming from the look on your face, yer about to explode." Lancelot sang, breaking the silence as he jabbed you in the shoulder with a snarky grin. To some it may appear to be mean, but you knew it was only one of his many jesters. As someone like him, you'd have to have a good and long-running amounts of patience to truly converse the threads of which strayed along the walls he built. Even in better and earnest chances would you had an easier time if the two of you had met during the years of your childhood.

"Maybe?" Your voice trembled just for a slight moment, then you conceded to defeated as you nodded in agreement. Hearing him laugh, he languidly laced his fingers with yours. Gentle as can be, even despite the smolder of fire lit by a previous warrior in those eyes of his, that he was about kind. His face was washed over by his usual expression, with one that said about everything.

"Come on." He spoke, "I wanna hear it all."

"I am chatty you know?" You shot back, and the expression of disbelief he promptly gave you almost made your knees buckle with laughter. Watching as he shook his head in disagreement.

"If it was anyone else, I would've been long gone by now." Lancelot remarked, tilting his head. Marking a clear sign of honesty in those words of his, if you had heard him say the very same thing when you two had first met, you wouldn't have believed him. So finally, you relaxed yourself, sighing as you pulled yourself together. Instead of your giggly mess of a self previously taking residence.

"Okay! so..." You then began going off on a tangent; correlating the most interesting events, the enemies who held the most interest, a fresh new injury you got, and so on. Despite your sunshine personality and beauty, you could also be perceived as someone of a high danger level. Though it is rare, as you demeanor gives many a false impression of your ability to hold yourself in battle. Lancelot knew this much, far more than others, and so he felt for the poor souls that had to come cross swords with you in battle. Although he couldn't deny his immense pride for you, even if it was startling, he was always proud of you.

In immediate conquest, ripping away his joy of partaking in the good conversation you both had going. There was a crowd of fairies invading your space, singing praises and oohing at the face of your beauty. There were even a few that you both had recognized, so you made small-talk, oblivious to the pot of burdening feelings brewing within the knight of war.

Though you two had continued onward after sending the fairies on their way, you could tell there was something albeit off about Lancelot. Even with his more affectionate demeanor which he usually only displayed around you, he seemed slightly different.

"Lance," You muttered, "Are you okay?" You asked, your hand drifting over to his, seemingly shoved in the confines of his pocket. Lancelot's eyes shot up at the mention of the nickname, specifically reserved for him alone. He tilted his head, the shrug of his shoulders, oh you knew what he was feeling right now. But you weren't sure if you should push it at all, maybe you should let him come to terms with the feelings on his own, he seemed far more amiable to something like that.

"I'm good, don't need to worry about me." He finally said, making you sigh. But you decided to leave it alone like you thought about, wanting him to talk about it on his own, as due to experience, Lancelot is extremely and particularly hardheaded.

On the way back to the end of the road, you had found yourselves at the beginning of one of the many entrances into Liones. Startingly so, not even after a few moments, two minutes even that you had been stopped by two ladies that had wanted to make the time to tell you how wonderful and beautiful you are. Which had surprised Lancelot, as he had never once spoken with the pair before, but it had seemed you did from how closely you spoken with them. Taking their compliments in stride, which once again had dug into his gut. He didn't know why he was feeling this way, but it was at all today that he's come to learn how often you get complimented and the amount of attention you receive from many who's come across you.

Finally, once finally you had been done talking with them. Lancelot decided to speak, "I don't understand how you've gotten so popular." He chides, yet jokingly. You just shrugged with a weak chuckle, almost unsure of it yourself. But he could tell, he knew. Lancelot didn't really like it when someone had such an attention on you, and for him, he was supposed to give you such attention. He had and have wanted to dedicate today specifically for such a thing.

"Beats me." you blinked for a moment, having said such words. Receiving attention is not something you weren't used to, but something you quickly had become used to it anyway. One person, and one person alone you could handle it, and that was Lancelot.

You went back and forth with yourself within the confines of your mind, "Maybe it'll stop now?" You said with a small smile, tugging him along by the forearm, a gentle tug. "Come on, I know a really good restaurant!"

Lancelot's burdens are nothing short of easy, feelings in the matter as well. But mind over matter was the last thing he wanted right now, this was you, a source of light in the midst for all that it was of his struggles. Even as a knight of apocalypse, you still smiled at him all the same.

Despite his negative emotions, which are quite normal to feel as he's come to recognize, always wash away in the fate of your warmth.

[picturejasper20]

Bismuth is an interesting character to talk about because, in spite of her having just few appearances in the show, she is almost treated with the same importance that characters like Peridot and Lapis Lazuli have, who show up from the first season and their arcs are spread out through the series.

I believe this comes from how key her introduction episode is, as it mark a ¨before and after¨ in the series, when Steven and the audience begins to learn more about the dark secrets that Rose Quartz kept and how her image of ¨perfect hero¨ for Steven and others starts to break down.

Bismuth is described as the ¨biggest Crystal Gem¨, in the sense she was very passionate about the cause and she was pretty well loved and respected in her team. She seemed to be one of the closest Rose's friends along with Garnet and Pearl back during the Gem War.

It is unknown how Bismuth met Rose Quartz and decided to join the Crystal Gems but based on her dialogue we can get an idea that she was moved by Rose Quartz's ideas and later became part of the movement.

¨And she asked me what I wanted to build, and I'd never heard that before. And Gems never hear they can be anything other than what they are, but Rose opened our eyes.¨

So Bismuth was sent to Earth and when she met Rose Quartz who was ¨just another Quartz soldier¨, she was asked what things she was interested in building. I assumed that Bismuth was taken out by this and over time started to question what she wanted to do and be.

Based on Unleash the Light, Bismuths as gems appear to have an overall sentiment that they aren't respected for their work and they are overlooked. They seem to be gems that are more likely to rebel or demand proper respect than other type of gems- at least based on the game events. I think Bismuth shared a similar feeling as well that made her become a Crystal Gem not so long after meeting Rose.

The other idea that got her was that she could be something different- she didn't have to only build what the Diamonds told her. She could try building her own things! So she choose to use her own skills to create and make weapons for other gems in the war.

Bismuth really looked up to Rose- she adored her- so much that she built a statue dedicated to her. She believed in everything that Rose said and she was willing to do anything for her.

This passion and idolization ended up backfiring on Rose Quartz in a way, as her constant words about how terrible Pink Diamond was had a clear effect on Bismuth, thus making her a fanatic Crystal Gem- someone who considered taking some more extreme measures than the ones Rose had been applying so far.

Rose have indirectly created her own enemies, if it could be put in that way.

One day Bismuth comes up with a weapon- which looks more like a torture device than something to be used on battle- and shows it to Rose. She believes that this could change the outcome of the war and maybe lead them to victory. She shows how it works, probably shattering some statue to prove her point.

Then, for one reason or another, Rose didn't seem to be fond of this idea that Bismuth had- perhaps because she didn't want to be shattered herself or she didn't want that for the other Diamonds, maybe she was scared of this being used in more innocent gems or she didn't want to be like the Diamonds. Whatever was the reason, Rose decided to hide the Breaking Point and poof Bismuth, hiding her inside Lion's mane at some point.

She never told to Pearl and Garnet what happened to Bismuth- not even centuries after the Gem War ended. Probably because she wanted to keep the idea of Pink Diamond's shattering being faked since she previously rejected the breaking point? Maybe it was out of fear of not knowing how Pearl and Garnet would react?

What it is sad is how Bismuth still kept talking good of Rose after being freed by Steven. She went on for a while like she hadn't been betrayed by one of her best friends until she has that fight with Steven near the end of the episode- for what was a misunderstanding and her being too confused at believing that Steven was Rose Quartz for a moment.

After coming back in ¨Made of Honor¨ having some chats with Steven about what happened and learning that Rose was Pink Diamond, Bismuth changed the way she refer herself to Rose. Based on the interactions she has with Steven, she appears to have changed her admiration for Rose Quartz to looking up to Steven now. She tells to Steven about how he has been able to bring the whole team together and how they are more following him rather than Rose Quartz.

In the time skip both in the movie and Steven Universe Future she is seen helping in Little Homeworld, building it or talking to other gems. There isn't much comment on how she feels about Rose in the scenes she shows up, but the overall feeling is that she is still a Crystal Gem because of her friends and Steven and not so much for Rose. It is unknown if she hates Rose- or if it is more of feeling mixed about her. I want to think it is more the latter, as she still kept talking good about her to Steven on ¨Bismuth¨.

Bismuth and Rose Quartz's relationship is a very sad one. Bismuth was betrayed by someone she really looked up to and was close friends with ( and very likely had romantic feelings for) for reasons that not even Rose herself understood. Fortunately Steven freed her and decided to give her the chance that Rose Quartz didn't after she got bubbled. She remains part of the Crystal gems, but more for herself and her friends than for the gem she once idolized.

[smeowchi]

Helllllo! Don't mind silly Simple man asking you to ramble abt your fav AU that you created, wanna hear it<3

BOY HOWDY DO I HAVE SOME AUS FOR YA

Or, well, one is more of a story? Kinda? Set between seasons 1 & 2

Either way I love both of em so I’m gonna talk about both of em! ;3c (Below a cut because there’s gonna be. a lot.)

Okay, so first off, we have what I’ve decided to finally name properly (totally not just thought up a cool name as I’m typing this, haha, what, nooo..)

Re: Chipped!

It’s a lot of what I’ve posted about in terms of AUs, and what I’ve gotten built up the most out of the two of em. Essentially, on a very base level, it’s ‘haha what if PAMA didn’t fully leave Lukas and takes over his body again’

You can actually find the first chapter of it here! I’m still working on chapter two because life stuff has kicked me, but yknow! It’s something I adore a good bit, given I both adore angst and such, and Lukas is one of ,y favorites <3 (Sorry, buddy, you must suffer because I like you!)

Beyond just the basic ‘what if’ premise, though, it has a lot more detail. It’s not just the regular ‘oh, PAMA is back, people get chipped again/it gets policed’, nonono. Not only does PAMA study Lukas and learn how to fly under the Radar (quite literally, in one case, haha), but after Harper is called to deal with the situation.. PAMA gains a new directive. Not to mention the fact that PAMA is able to blend in a lot more easily, due to the ‘red eye’ thing.. not exactly being as prevalent anymore. Who knows what’ll happen if PAMA isn’t kept under lock and key. Especially once it remembers Redstonia or the portal hallway from Lukas’ memories..

In terms of my other (and actually proper) AU, Admin’s Pawns, here’s a blurb I typed up on a previous post!

“Have you ever wanted to see what would happen if Season 2 starred all the ‘villains’ from the portal hall arc? Well, now you can! Romeo’s picked up a new set of champions, enemies from Jesse’s past who have been specially trained to catch them off guard and attempt to defeat them. Cassie (+ Winslow <3), Aiden, Hadrian, Mevia, and even a few extra familiar faces make an appearance, as the Admin’s army grows to give Beacontown’s hero an adventure they’ll never forget.. for better, or worse.��

It’s also something I’ve been writing here and there, and will post on AO3 at some point! ;3c

There, alas, isn’t much to share story-wise, given it’s not fully fleshed out, but I can share some character details! Although Romeo had to fight tooth and nail to get the group together in the first place, especially given his powers don’t work as well when not in the ‘base world’. When gathering those who were through the portal hallway, he was much weaker. But boy, oh boy, would it be worth it.

Aiden was trained as a sort of guard. Relying on strength alone whilst fighting, and being able to give blows while tanking some himself, he wields an enchanted diamond claymore.

Cassie is much more stealth-based. She relies on being able to catch the enemy off guard. An assassin or rogue type, if you will. Using a hooded cloak, and a face mask reminiscent of her serial killer alter ego, she’s able to stick to the shadows. Popping out to swing one of her diamond axes through her target before using one of her handcrafted ender pearl throwing knives to teleport away again. (She also does keep Winslow with her at all times, not wanting to risk potentially losing him again.)

Hadrian and Mevia’s roles aren’t exactly solidified yet, unfortunately. But as of right now, they’re more advisors than anything. Not exactly fighting, but doing things behind the scenes. That, or you can also think of them as the equivalent to Statler and Waldorf from The Muppets. (/hj)

Amongst their living quarters, however, there seems to be.. a workshop of some sort. The group has been advised never to open the door, but they can hear the goings on within. Sometimes hearing voices, one of which ringing slight bells to only Aiden. The other, however, remains a mystery. Oh, well. Best to follow the boss’ orders, right?

Sorry, I know this is a lot to read, but if you have questions or wanna know more, feel free to ask!! I’d love to share more about my silly things <;3c (This goes for anyone btw, not just Simple!)

[sibillascribbles08]

Been cooking my own tmnt iteration for a while, dunno how much will live anywhere but my brain but I wanna do some refs, so here's the turts!

I've been calling it Teenage Mutant Jazz Turtles or tmjt for short

If you care to hear some more you can peak under the cut

(More refs coming??? eventually I'm still stuck on some designs)

As the name implies, tmjt has more inspiration drawn from musical elements than combat elements. With the turtles not only living in a big ol' tour bus but also attempting to become a competent band after finding their magical instruments. But the ones they discover aren't the only ones out there, and some belong to some pretty nasty characters. (All the villains are gonna have a theme based on a different genre of music!)

The turtles travel and live with their dad (Splinter) and adopted sister (Casey). Originally just trying to survive but that kind of all changes when they accidentally interrupt a plan from the foot clan and not only discover some magical instruments that can turn into weapons, but also an entire world of monsters and creatures when they thought they were the only ones.

Leo is the oldest sibling, but despite this she struggles to be responsible for her siblings after her gender realizations caused a massive crack in her confidence. She's constantly self conscious of how others are perceiving her, even her own family in spite of their boundless support. She's always loved music, thanks to her dad, and dreams of being a singer, but because of how her mouth is built that's also an uphill battle. Her duel katanas can shift into a cello which can put opponents into a trance like sleep. While her given name was Leonardo, she's not sure what she wants to change it to, and simply goes by Leo for the time being. While she doesn't like to show her mouth, her teeth and jaw are powerful enough to bite through a steel knife.

Donnie is the second oldest (by just four days!) and is the one who stepped up to be in charge while Leo figures things out. He doesn't entirely mind the responsibility, though the pressure gets to him sometimes. Especially when Raph decides to criticize his decisions. They're very analytical and logical, their main passion being for mathematics which extends into some of the sciences as well such as physics. They know enough engineering to maintain the tour bus and build a few helpful devices such as their goggles or the calculator in their glove. Donnie puts his passion for math into music, using it to map out patterns for tunes (though not all of them sound good in the end). Their four eyes also have an additional lens to see heat signatures (and their dark vision is incredible). Donnie's clarinet allows him to create visual illusions.

Raph is the second youngest (by four days, Donnie constantly reminds him) and despite his appearance is one of the more level headed members of the family. You kind of have to learn how when your body could release gases that could paralyze your family members. Raph vents his frustration by either releasing gas that Donnie can convert into fuel for the bus or by writing poetry. Not that he ever lets the others read it, but he does put that skill into writing song lyrics. While he keeps cool and collected he still loves a good brawl, and will happily spar with anyone (usually Casey). He just leaves a lot of the destruction to his younger sibling, unless someone in his fam gets hurt, then the gloves are off. Raph is fiercely protective and will square up if someone so much as looks at one of his siblings funny, especially Leo. His high emotions are often why he and Donnie argue. Raph's trumpet can cause phantom pains in the skull, though he rarely has to use it give it how potent his gases can be.

Mikey, the youngest, is a tiny terror and he not only knows this, he takes great pride in it. Mikey enjoys causing chaos for the sheer joy of it, and enjoys it the most when Raph will simply hurl him at opponents for him to latch onto. Over the years he's learned to climb very well with his four arms, going up trees and buildings with ease which can make him very hard to chase after. Despite his love for trouble, however, he can be just as sweet, though his desire to do good deeds for his love ones can be a bit misguided at times (no Mikey you can't just rob the ice cream stand stop). Unfortunately as long as it keeps hiding behind Raph when the consequences happen, it may take some time to grow up (not that it has any interest in doing so right now). Mikey's drums allow him to create intense vibrations in the ground, enough to topple some buildings.

[sinnohanvulpix]

Sawyer is neurodivergent and you can't change my mind

Last year for Autism Acceptance Day, my good friend @pikatrainer99 and I did a collab post about Goh and our headcanon of being him autistic. Here's a link to that post if you'd like to check it out:

Today, we'd like to talk about Sawyer from Pokemon XY, another character who we both headcanon as autistic, and who means the world to me.

Let's start with his special interest, Pokemon battles. In all of Sawyer's appearances, we can clearly see his desire to learn as much as he can about battling and to grow stronger. He greatly admires strong trainers like Steven Stone and Ash. I mean, just look at how excited he gets when he hears that Ash had won five badges!

And that's exactly what he does for the rest of the series. He spends so much time studying and training that he manages to catch up to Ash within a just season's worth of episodes! But we'll get to that later.

Before going into detail about his most obvious traits, let's go over some of the traits that we only see for brief moments, starting with his sensory sensitivities. In episode 73, we see him getting visibly overwhelmed when the crowd around him, Ash, and Clemont suddenly starts cheering. We also see him shielding his eyes from Spritzee's Dazzling Gleam attack during his battle with Valerie. Note that he's the only one to react this way to both situations. I don't know about you, but I have yet to meet a single autistic person without some kind of hypersensitivity to noise, bright light, smell, texture, etcetera.

We also see in the following episode that he sometimes unintentionally gets too close to people when he's excited, not noticing their discomfort. We see this after Ash wins his gym battle with Valerie, and Sawyer is so beyond amazed and eager to learn from him that he momentarily forgets how to act "socially appropriately". Ash and his friends are visibly uncomfortable, but of course, because they're all so kind and supportive, they don't judge him for this 🥺

We also see in the first episode of XYZ that he's an amazing artist. And I mean, AMAZING! He can literally draw Squishy the Zygarde Core exactly how it looks in its official artwork, despite only having seen it for the first time that day! While not every autistic person has to have a talent like this, it's definitely not uncommon. Growing up, Pika and I both used to draw a lot, and our drawing skills were one of the few things we took pride in because of how much praise we got for it.

Now let's talk about one of his most adorable traits, which is his habit of saying, "I've gained some EXP!" Clearly he's into video games and enjoys feeling like he's in one, because this is definitely not something you typically hear in real life. This kind of escapism is quite common in autistic people, Pika and I included. In a world that's not built for us, sometimes imagining ourselves in a fictional world that we love can be really comforting and even inspiring in some cases.

You've probably noticed that Sawyer is holding his notebook in all of the last three screenshots, which is also something I'd like to get into. Not only is his notebook a crucial part of his character, but it's also a security item. Pika and I both have security items of our own, namely our phones and our favourite Pokemon plushies, which helps bring us a lot of much-needed comfort. In episode 75, we see just how panicked Sawyer gets when he temporarily loses his notebook, which quickly leads to him becoming depressed.

We know that he values his notebook deeply because it contains all he's learned on his journey, as well as an autograph from Steven Stone. But if you look deeper, it becomes clear that it's even more to him than that. He holds his notebook close to his heart, both metaphorically and literally. He hugs it after receiving approval from Ash (which I'll also get to later) Heck, he even attached his Key Stone to it! He cherishes this notebook like it's his baby, and we find that so adorable and relatable!

Okay, now it's time to get into what's arguably the saddest part of his character: his constant need of approval from others. Pika and I, as well as countless other autistic people, are no strangers to self-doubt, especially in a world where we can't meet a lot of people's expectations. Sawyer likely grew up feeling this way too, which would explain why he's always seeking Ash's approval, since Ash is the one he looks up to the most. Throughout the series, Sawyer's constantly trying desperately to catch up to him. What's even more heartbreaking is that even after he beats Ash, he still needs reassurance from him that he's become strong 🥺

And to make matters worse, he's constantly masking his frustration whenever he fails to beat Ash. The autistic community is definitely no stranger to masking either.

It's not until the episode after his Kalos League battle with Ash when we finally see Sawyer breaking down. All those hours of training to catch up to Ash only led to him losing again in their most important battle yet. He was devastated, but he couldn't show that in front of Ash out of fear of being judged. Once he and Sceptile were alone, however, Sawyer was finally able to let out all the built-up frustration. And oh boy, was it emotional to watch...

But being the resilient trainer he is, Sawyer quickly dried off his tears and reaffirmed his desire to become stronger.

It takes a lot of strength to bounce back from something like this. I also went through a lot of inner turmoil around the time XYZ was airing. But seeing Sawyer bounce back like this inspired me to keep going, and make it through the rest of that year with Sawyer as my main source of comfort.

Needless to say, I see a lot of myself in Sawyer, and so does Pika. Not only is he relatable, but his story is also a great reminder that no matter how bad things feel in the moment, we can always make it out the other side. This is an important message for a lot of people, especially within the autistic community.

Even after all these years, I still find lots of comfort in Sawyer, and I know that'll last for many more years to come 💚

[shootingmorningstar]

I was wondering if you're okay writing an Angel Dust. M!Reader. More specifically Drag Angel Dust. I haven't seen anyone make these before so this is an original idea. A one-shot if perfect, but you can do whatever you want. You can do this as smut or fluff, it doesn't matter! Have a great rest of your day!!

I absolutely can ~ .ᐟ By drag I assume you mean a drag queen, let me know if I misunderstood .ᐣ

I'm not too experienced in writing for Angel Dust so I wanted to do something a little less pressure to start him off, I hope a ficlet is alright .ᐣ This prompt got away from me a little and ended up being tooth rottingly sweet, haha.

total wc ; 1.1k

DRAG ANGEL DUST X MALE READER.

Hearing Valentino had temporarily shifted Angel Dust's line of work had been surprising to say the very least -- the change was not an unwelcome one in the slightest, but with just how sought after your boyfriend was in the porn industry, anything that appeared like it might be a potential financial loss for the Overlord seemed vastly out of character.

Still, never a sinner to look a gift horse in the mouth, the news he had brought home with him after a day of particularly rough shoots had been one to be celebrated. Being contracted under Val would never be easy, sure, but this sounded like a step up from being used and abused, thrown around as if he was a doll and subjected to the moth's inhumane treatment, right? Angel's first show would be in just a few days from now and you had been thrilled.

Gathering you and Angel's closest friends hadn't proved hard -- all you'd had to do was swing open the doors to his home, the Hazbin Hotel. It had been through Angel Dust you had met the people gathered in the lobby, true, but they had managed to become your family as well. Seeing the person you loved most changing himself to be better had filled you with pride, the feeling warming you right down to your very soul, and although he had done most of the work needed to improve, the person to spark that change was none other than the Princess of Hell herself -- the exact same Princess who grabs your hands and squeals excitedly as you break the news to her.

A proper celebration is planned in what seems like no time at all -- the plans, while initially your idea, quickly slip through your fingers, Charlie's enthusiasm leading her to take the reigns before she'd even realized what she'd done.

Largely courtesy of Alastor and Lucifer, the hotel soon became filled to the brim with banners, balloons, brilliant lights and thanks to Husk, free flowing booze. Each and every part of the decor is something you're sure Angel will adore, and seeing the way he strolls through the doors, the scowl on his face quickly replaced with that of awe, your assumptions are proved correct. Rushing to his side, a quick murmur of ❛ congratulations, love ❜ is spoken softly into his ear as each and every one of his arms come around you, crushing you to him. Charlie's second to approach, an outfit so flashy in hand it had Velvette written all over it.

❛ We're so happy about your promotion, Angel! ❜ She chimes, a stray tear having built itself into the corner of her eyes. Waiting until he's pulled back from his hug to offer her gift forward, the dress coming alongside an explanation. ❛ We thought you could get some practice in with us before having to go on stage! Now go, take him, ❜ she says, shoving you towards a makeshift dressing room, ❛ and go get ready for your party! No excuses, mister! ❜

Thrilled to go along with what Charlie had said, you take his intended outfit for the night in one hand and Angel's hand in the other, ushering him to follow alongside you. It's not until the pair of you are alone for the first time this evening that he speaks up again. ❛Were you th'one who planned this whole thing, doll? ❜ And with your nod, a look of gratitude glazes over his eyes, his expression offering his silent thanks as he grips your hand just that little bit tighter.

It's not hard to tell that Angel's still unused to receiving acts of kindness. His reaction only serves to endear him to you further, however, and you show him just that by pressing a kiss onto his forehead.

Undressing him from the outfit today's shoot required was a quiet affair, affection laced through your movements as you remove his suit button by button, shifting your focus only when you're done with that to the other accessories he adorns -- his bowtie falling first, followed by his gloves and finishing with his boots. The dress Charlie had selected was nothing short of stunning, an entirely crimson red bodice laced with intricate black detailing, long sleeves stopping only at his hands and a trail touching the floor below both from the arms and towards the bottom, leaving only a sense of mystery where his long legs usually stand proudly on display. You assist him in stepping into the ensemble, your touch delicate as you raise the zipper so as to not catch any of his silky fur in its teeth.

Standing back to admire your work thus far, you brush your fingers against his cheek, palm cradling the side of his face for just a moment before pulling away. ❛ You look exquisite. Sit, please? I've already got your makeup ready, love. ❜

Not wanting to keep the star of tonight's show away for too long, you do your best to speed along the process without tarnishing his beauty -- by the time you're finished, eyeshadow and lipstick alike to match his dress in the most stunning shade of cardinal accentuate the femininity of his facial features, the look truly only complete when you've applied his lashes. Offering your hand once more, you assist your boyfriend to his feet, guiding him to the mirror and encouraging him to finally take in his appearance, to see the results of the love you'd poured into his look.

From head to toe, he looks absolutely stunning. There was no lack of faith from him that he wouldn't -- he knows his looks, prides himself on them, but the emotional little huff that slips past his lips betrays just how he'd really felt. There's a world of difference between how he appears when dolled up by Valentino's employees not paid enough to care how he's feeling and you in contrast, every touch filled with your affections. ❛ C'mon, they're waiting on us. This is all for you, Angel. Every single person out there adores you, just like I do. ❜

You hadn't had it in you to release your hold on his and, and intending to use that very grasp to pull him back towards the lobby, you're surprised when it's him instead pulling you back, bringing you close and stealing a kiss. Gratified by the affection he'd managed to nab from you, he takes charge. His life doesn't often give him the opportunity to be in control, so he cherishes it now, leading you back to take center stage around the sinners who he cares about most.

And there we are .ᐟ As always, hearing what you guys have to say about my work means the world and keeps me writing .ᐟ If you like what you read, consider leaving me a like or a comment .ᐣ I'd really appreciate it. Till next time ~ .ᐟ

[joanofexys]

hi i know absolutely nothing about anything dc related but i would love to hear about your ocs if you'd like to share (and if you'd like to wait for someone who knows dc to talk to about them that's absolutely chill i just think your characters are cool & that there's no harm in mentioning im interested haha)

HI YAY THANK YOU FOR ASKING ABT THEM

okay so real quick

Harlowe Wayne:

She/her, lesbian

Blind with some light perception

Minorly enhanced senses

6’0

Ellis Wayne:

He/him, unlabeled, aspec

Glasgow smile scarring

6’2

The two of them are basically copy and paste of Bruce Wayne appearance wise. Ellis is easily mistaken for his father if people don’t notice the scars. And Harlowe often takes over as the Bat when Bruce is out of Gotham because she’s built like a brick wall and with a vocal modulator she can easily pass as Batman

They’re the eldest of all the Wayne children (despite him having 10 million kids jfc) and because there has to be a little bit of projection in everything, Bruce was a teenager when the twins were born (which also leaves them growing up pre-Batman and seeing Bruce create the hero which I’ve had fun with). Typically with the timelines I go for Bruce is usually in his 40s which puts the twins in their 30’s most of the time (sometimes late 20’s).

Harlowe went blind at 13 and can perceive light and shadow, and a few years later at 15 an accident enhances her other senses slightly though her sight worsens

At 16 Ellis is the target of one of the Joker’s attacks where a permanent smile is carved onto his face. Out of all the Wayne’s/Bat’s Ellis becomes the most frequently targeted for his civilian identity, while he’s rarely targeted when he’s out acting as a vigilante. Scarecrow takes a particular interest in him which leads to a lot of fear toxin being used on him, he develops not exactly an immunity to it but a less severe response, he’s less likely to hallucinate or experience true fear unless in high doses and insteads becomes restless and irritable until the toxin has worn off.

Harlowe becomes a lawyer and works for Wayne Enterprises for awhile. Ellis’ focus tends to be engineering and tech though he doesn’t exactly have a steady job and spends a lot of time travelling. As adults the twins actually tend to go long periods of time without seeing or even contacting each other even though they might be more consistent with their siblings (not because of a lack of care or closeness it’s just something they don’t tend to think about).

Harlowe takes after Bruce even when she’s not in the suit and as a vigilante she’s known to be brutal but she has an inflexible moral code. When she’s not working as Batman she tends to stick to smaller areas of the city and doesn’t focus on the big rogues, people know she’s pretty reliable to seek out because she usually can take the time out of her patrol to help people as needed.

Ellis has a much more flexible moral code and could probably be convinced to kill if given enough evidence it was necessary or the lesser of two evils. His constant traveling has the added advantage of him being able to track criminals and organizations for long periods of time and that tends to be where his focus is. He can get very single minded about things and can struggle to tear away from an ongoing mission to work on another one or to help people.

Ellis is 3 minutes older and it doesn’t really matter until they’re arguing and suddenly it really matters (he’s taller AND older so obviously she has to listen to him). They’re both bossy little shits but Harlowe at least knows how to work with a team, Ellis will try his best but that same flaw with being narrow minded can cause problems and he’s not much of a team player.

Ellis somehow ends up the most emotionally intelligent one here against all odds and he’s the most likely to reluctantly sit down and actually talk about his feelings.

Harlowe’s the most likely to actually acknowledge her injuries and take at least most of the proper time to rest and heal rather than pushing herself the next day

Uhhhhhh I have other stuff to say about them I’m sure but I’m blanking now so that’s a little bit about my babies

[true-blue-sonic]

Gooood evening dear author‼️

So for the headcanon thingy

ൠ - random headcanon

☼ - appearance headcanon

☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

☾ - sleep headcanon

For Shadow and hmmm Sonic?

I LOVE your interpretation of Shadow in your fics! Especially in New Beginnings. It's not usual to see someone write Shadow this well and accurate!! And not only Shadow. You write every character so well!

Good evening🍀 Thanks for the compliments, I'm glad to hear so!💕 This made me realise I actually haven't written Shadow so much at all, haha. He does intrigue me; I'm always curious how he and Silver would interact when not on a mission. They seem to be on good terms in London 2012 3DS, at least!

Shadow:

ൠ - random headcanon

I figure he sometimes goes to the ARK to ensure it doesn't fall into disrepair more, as a homage to the home he shared with Gerald and Maria. He definitely knows the place best out of anyone still alive, but he'll never be able to out-know Gerald, considering Gerald is the one who built the ARK in the first place iirc.

☼ - appearance headcanon

I think he wouldn't mind the fact that he looks so Black Arms-y, considering he left the past behind him and all. But if anyone tries to ask about it, they're gonna get the most pissed look possible sent to them, which probably terrifies any ol' mortal into immediately shutting up and leaving the topic be.

☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon

I think also he would appreciate Earth's nature and views, what with growing up on the ARK and all. I like the idea of him tending to flowers that the Lego game showed. Plus, I can imagine he figures out what flowers mean so he can plant ones with meanings he appreciates.

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

Rouge is the only one who can talk him down with words when he's irate, and even then that's not guaranteed. Considering Omega was made to contain him and was used to capture him in '06, I think he'd be the only being capable of stopping Shadow by physical force; perhaps not even Sonic would be strong enough then!

☾ - sleep headcanon

I think GUN could have lent him a place to stay somewhere so he has a roof over his head, but I figure he either crashes at Rouge or just stays outside (like under the highway in Battle) to sleep, not unlike Sonic. I do think him being UltimateTM means he can do better than Sonic with less hours of sleep, but probably not for days on end.

Sonic:

ൠ - random headcanon

Collects off-model unofficial merch made in the likeliness of him and his friends when the items are really ugly, because he thinks it's funny. He's got a few boxes stowed away in one of Tails' workshops that has the stuff in there, that he pulls out at parties and such for a good laugh with his pals.

☼ - appearance headcanon

I think Sonic would be open to many crazy things in truth or dare, but dyeing his quills is one thing he'll refuse to do when dared to XD

☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon

He doesn't have as much technological know-how as Tails for sure, but I can imagine he likes tinkering with the Tornado and seeing if she still works properly!

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

No matter what it is he's doing; if he spots someone getting bullied or a person being mean to someone else, he will intervene and chew the assaulter out. Afterwards he'll far more kindly ask the victim if they're okay, and hang out with them for a while more with jokes and such until they're smiling again.

☾ - sleep headcanon

I love the idea that he is on an active mission to find the weirdest sleeping spots possible, ranging from tree branches so thin it's a miracle he doesn't fall off, roofs of random houses, lounge chairs just left outside, the seat of the Tornado, Tails' tails, beds in guest rooms from friends (who promptly get a heart attack when they wake up in the morning and he is just There), and so on.

[tmwcs]

HHP - Chapter 15 part 4 (18+MDNI)

This part is a flashback piece reflecting Heethan's past ;)

The reference i used for "The Ghost and the Darkness" is actually a film based off real life events about two man-eating lions in Africa. Scary i know. But i thought the name was fitting, you'll see why. Also, the reference for the "hau" in regards to Polynesian legends, was based off research of actual mythologies in regards to their tales of spirits and ghosts, but if anyone knows of any mistakes or misunderstandings in regards to how i used the reference, please message me or send me an ask and correct me. I had to do lots of research for this part. Enjoy.

“Heeseung! Come in and clean yourself, dinner is ready.”

The man calls out to his son as he observes the little boy playing outside, admiring the small butterflies that danced around him.

The little boy doesn’t respond, just nods as he slowly makes his way to the door. After dinner, he goes upstairs and changes his clothes, remaining ever so quiet and calm. For a boy his age, Heeseung was always cognizant of his surroundings; observant, creative, and never stressed or cried about anything. His room was filled with lego models, figurines, and stacks of music discs along with an old CD player attached to a pair of headphones. His room was well furnished, clean, and situated in a wide-open space concept, lacking the traditional items that any other seven-year-old boy would have in his room.

There, he secludes himself in a calm manner. His parents and elder sibling never worried, at least not anymore, the boy had always been the type to remain aloof and spoke very few words. He was the type to listen instead, and always included his two cents during a time when he felt it was needed, such as the moment when he found his dear mother crying at the kitchen table, upon finding out that her father had passed away. Heeseung loved and admired his father, yet when it came to his mother, there was a special place in his heart for her. She was the first face he’d laid eyes on when he was born, the first voice he heard screaming into the air when she brought him out into the wide-open world, and the first smile to witness when he was held with the warmth and comfort of her arms.

She was the first….

Upon seeing her cry, at the time, little four-year-old Heeseung merely stepped over to her side and rubbed her back as she sat, leaned over, with her head laying on the table. Turning to look at him, she softens a smile at seeing her little boy comfort her with a soft and calm demeanor, not saying anything, just giving her an adorable smirk as he looks at her with love and sympathy in his eyes. He rubs and pats her, takes her by the hand and holds on to her for a moment or two. Her heart was healing at the sight of her little boy’s affection.

‘My little Heeseung…’

Now that he was seven, his age only enhanced his traits as he became more attentive and knowledgeable in human emotions, reaction, pain and love. He was so very different from all of the kids at his school, even the teachers, who enjoyed having him in their classes, had always preached that Heeseung was far beyond his time and should have been bumped up to the next grade level, which his parents agreed to yet refrained upon hearing his adamant request to remain in his current grade, where his best friend, Jake, shared all of the same classes.

Changing into his pajamas, which featured his favorite characters from Toy Story, he places his headphones on and puts on a song to listen to. Nodding his head to the beat, he smiles.

‘I like this song.’

‘……Me too….’

From afar, it would appear the boy was deep in thought, when unbeknown to everyone that knew hin, he had multiple conversations throughout the day with someone. All internal, yet there was a strong bond that he built since the moment he learned to understand, read, and speak the meaning of words. Since then, a connection was made with someone….someone who had been born the same time as him, and was cradled by his mother’s arms just as he was. Someone who also loved his mother, felt the joy and laughter of her voice as the first, her smile being the first one to set standards of what happiness really was. Someone…who was him yet different.

‘Ethan, what do you want to watch before bed?’

‘Megamind!’

‘Hahahaha.’

As the boy grew, so did his other side….

‘Hey, what do you feel like watching?’

‘Donny Darko.’

‘Why? I don’t like that movie, it’s so dark…’

‘That’s why I like it.’

By the time they turned fifteen, they had already dominated the features of themselves and learned to develop a delicate balance of having two personalities sharing one body. They mastered the effect of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde.

‘Hey man, what do you want to watch?’

‘Anything that’s psychological or thrilling.’

‘Kay kay, let me look through the channels.’

…………………………………….

“Hey Heeseung! Over here!”

Heeseung turns and watches his best friend, Jake, running over to him. A large smile graces his handsome face as he waves over, breaching near his dear friend.

“Did you get a map of the school? Isn’t this crazy? We’re starting high school in a month!” Jake exclaims.

Being the younger of the two didn’t make a difference regarding the young man’s eagerness for adventure, excitement, and of course experience with girls. Heeseung on the other hand, had absolutely none. Much like when he was a young child, he remained reserved, calm, and composed, therefore he indulged himself in the exact opposite, such as his model figurines, music, or video games.

“Yeah, I’m excited too.” The older boy responded calmly, with an aloof expression on his face.

Once the school year began, the pair was always seen together, although people remarked how odd they would look like as friends, considering the handsome Jake always displayed a neat hairstyle, decent clothes, a wide smile and knew how to flirt with the girls.

Heeseung on the other hand, always wore hand me down clothing from his elder brother, had unkept hair that covered his eyes, and he was so tall that his elder brother’s attire would enhance his lanky and awkward limbs, which did not work in his favor considering when his elder brother was his age, he was of larger stature, yet not as tall as Heeseung.

Wearing assorted rings on his fingers, Heeseung displayed a liking to dark and mythological jewelry pieces with elven features. Along with the rings, he sometimes adorned a bracelet or a pair of wrist bands, yet the most notable of his attire and accessories, were his black, thick framed glasses. It never bothered him with how they made him appear less appealing, especially compared to his younger friend. Despite encompassing the zenith appeal of a nerd boy, or even the school dweeb or loser, no one dared to remark such words in his presence, because even though he may have looked the part, Heeseung’s demeanor and confidence was ever so present. The constant sway of attitude he had as he walked, not caring about the words or whisperings that occurred behind his back, he may have been the loneliest and least experienced when it came to girls, but there was something about his persona that they couldn’t help but notice and admire.

‘I wish they would try and say something to my face.’

‘If they do, I’ll fuck them up. I’ve watched enough dark movies and horror thrillers to build up a twisted side.’

‘Ethan…you ARE twisted.’

‘Yeah well, that’s because you’re not. You’re too soft, without me, these fools would eat you up.’

‘Yeah…okay.’

Apart from having Ethan to boost his confidence when it came to standing his ground and flaring off a nonchalant attitude, he also had Jake.

There wasn’t necessarily a dull moment in his life, he had a variety of conversations with Ethan, would enjoy moments in class with Jake, and had his music and video games. The young man was set. Of course he took notice of some of the girls who would frequent the pathways of the duo as they would always vie for Jake’s attention, some were pretty, some were even sexy, and while he would glance over as they flirted with his best friend, his conversations with Ethan only became more enhanced in discovering his hidden sexual nature.

‘You see that girl?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You think she’s cute?’

‘She’s alright. I like girls with longer hair better.’

‘Yeah, I can agree with that.’

‘But I hate the way they talk and sound. Like they’re trying to hard.’

‘Maybe…I guess I can see that. I don’t think I’d want to deal with the drama that Jake goes through anyhow.’

‘Yeah? I wouldn���t mind it. I’d just put her in her place.’

‘That’s so?’

‘Yeah. What would you do?’

‘Depends how bad it is. If it’s too bad, I’d ditch her. If it’s somewhat doable, I’d probably just makeup with her.’

‘Man, that’s so boring. Gotta add some pain in that ‘makeup’ part.’

Being a young man, when it came to sex, he was no different from his male counterparts, although unlike them, he felt content with the smut themed videos and magazines that he became so familiar with, all due to not knowing what he was missing out on. Perhaps it was the annoyance of how the girls displayed themselves, or how they seemed to lack any sincerity with the way they spoke, the man just couldn’t find himself to become interested to take a step up and interact or build a rapport with his female peers.  

The next couple of years, at the beginning of their Junior year, a moment of opportunity presented itself and caused Heeseung…and Ethan to change.

“Heeseung, let’s go to the party tonight, it will be fun. You’ve never went with me and the group, come out with us for once.”

As Jake emphasizes his request to his friend, Heeseung sighs as he looks down at him, noting how much taller he was now that they were a couple years older. He had always towered over his friends, yet it seemed he was nowhere near finished growing as he continued to reach a towering height and was even encouraged to be a part of the basketball team, which he declined as his glasses would have presented a problem while playing, not to mention he had no interest in contact lenses and still refused his parent’s in getting him Lasik surgery, much to their dismay. Instead, he took great joy in dribbling and shooting hoops after school hours by himself. He did enjoy the sport, much to his surprise.  

“Yeah sure, I’ll go.” He sighs a smirk at noticing his friend’s eyes lighting up with delight.

“Cool man! I’ll have to introduce you to everyone since it’s your first time going. This is going to be so much fun!”

That night, as Jake took his friend and mingled around, getting his awkward friend to interact with the boys of his soccer team was a bigger chore than he had expected. Yet it wasn’t as much of a headache as it was to get his best friend to gain some interaction with the girls, something that had never happened, and from the looks of it, it wasn’t going to. Heeseung just didn’t enumerate any vibe that was worth their interest.

Though he wasn’t scared of girls, he would peer off the moment a girl came into his presence. He may have been a little shy. All throughout the night, he continued to shift his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, drink juice out of his cup while the others indulged in alcohol, despite being underage, and awkwardly stood off to Jake’s side while staring at the wall, listening into on the conversations from everyone around him.

Still, his friends all were eager for their elder friend to engage with some of their female peers. Jake, knowing how much of a recluse his friend was, desired nothing more than to have Heeseung come out of his shell. Despite his best efforts, Heeseung was just too stubborn in his manner that he was content with being left alone.

Alone.

Never having any aspirations into building relationships, or even the concept of being married someday or having children, the young man foresaw a future where he would be on his own and follow his career path. There were times where he deeply yearned for the love that he saw between his parents, but ultimately saw that as a spark that would never exist for him, or his friends, considering the amount of drama and heartbreak he witnessed Jake, and the others had went through.

“Man, why did you have to bring ‘Nerd-than’ to the party? He’s so awkward and quiet, he scares the girls.”

“Hey bro just give him a chance, that’s why I brought him. He needs to socialize a bit more, he’s like a brother to me.” Jake responds back.

Outside of their group, a lot of the boys from school watched with a disdainful expression on their faces as they watch the extremely tall and lanky young man standing off to the side of wherever Jake was, with either his back leaned against the wall or leaned over and resting his elbows on the countertop. He looked bored, and uninterested.

The girls all whispered and gossiped, with his unfashionable attire, his messy hair, and large, thick framed glasses, the boy was far from looking desirable, especially when next to his dashing friend. His somewhat shy and quiet personality did not help the matter.

Yet he was a good sport about it. Never once complaining or hissing at anyone, just observant and quiet like he always was and allowing Jake to drag him along to mingle with the party goers.

“Hey, Ethan. You see that girl over there?”

One of the boys exclaims, pointing over to a girl from across the room. She was pretty, skinny, and dressed in high class fashion.

“That’s Trina Meyers. She’s a Senior at our school, she’s dated all the popular guys and has a reputation for not being too picky, despite how’s she’s dressed. Go and talk to her, she’s checked you out a couple of times. I think she might have thing or nerds.”

Leaned over on the countertop, with his hands clasped together as his elbows remained propped, Heeseung doesn’t move right away, he just turned his head and looked over at the girl. Sure enough, she did glance over to him with a sweet smile, occasionally biting her lower lip down, yet he remained still in his spot next to Jake.

Seemingly disinterested, Jake encourages his friend, ultimately agreeing with the boys that he should go talk with the girl.

“Hyung, go on. You should go talk with her, just have a friendly chit-chat.” Jake issues as he pats on the older boy’s back, giving him a small smile as Heeseung adjusted his glasses.

Standing up, revealing the full height of his frame, which happened to be the tallest out of anyone in the party, Heeseung walks over to her.  

‘I think we should have stayed in tonight.’

‘…..’

‘Ethan?’

‘Talk to her.

‘You’re excited?’

‘You’re not?’

‘I don’t know…kind of shy I guess.’

‘I’m not…..definitely am not.’

‘Well, you’re not scared of anything Ethan.’

‘……….’

The moment he ended his conversation with his other half, he found himself already squared up to the girl. Right in front of him, she giggles while looking into his eyes through his wide lenses.

“Hi….whats your name?” The girl playfully asks. Regardless that Heeseung was inexperienced, and this was his first time talking to a girl, let alone being this close to one, he could tell that she was the exact opposite by her mannerisms. The girl had obviously slept with enough men to know what she was into by her suggestive gestures as she kept eyeing him up and down, biting her lip, and keeping her mouth open as she flickered her tongue while licking the inside of her cheek.

“….Ethan.”

Apart from Jake and a few other close and personal friends who were all Korean ethnicity like him, he didn’t like anyone else calling him by his birth name. That was something he considered a special privilege that only a selected few have earned to call him by.

 “Cute.” The girl remarks, giggling once more.

Looking around with a slight devious expression on her face, she takes a half step forward and grabs his hand. He was so much bigger with his height, his frame, his broad shoulders, and his hands; being that he was only seventeen didn’t mean anything, he went through a growth spurt and started to develop a manly build, that despite his elder brother’s clothing drowning him, once up close, it was evident that the young man carried some muscle.

She begins walking off to the side, dragging him behind by his hand. Confused and puzzled, he looks back at his friends who all either stood with an excited expression on their faces or just laughed. Jake looked almost somewhat concerned, yet he displayed a reassuring smile as he nodded towards his friend.

People issued out harsh stares that fully expressed their judgement on the pair as they made their way upstairs. It was odd to him at first, when he initially questioned at how the girl knew her way around the house, yet he was reminded of her promiscuity after they entered a room, and she sat him down on a lounge chair where her experienced with men came into light as she sat on top of him.

Straddling his lap, she kisses him. He didn’t know quite what to do, this was the first time he’s ever kissed anyone, so he did what any other young man would do in this situation….

“Aren’t you going to kiss me back?” the girl asks, looking at him with a faded smile and a raised eyebrow.

As shameless as he naturally was, Heeseung answered honestly.

“I don’t know how. This is the first time I’ve been kissed.” He answered in a monotone, with an aloof expression on his face. He was not at all surprised, shocked, nor was he smiling.

Scoffing, the girl looked at him and giggled yet again.

“Wow, I know you’re a nerd and all, but…I kind of figured you had done something with all the less than popular girls at our school.”

He didn’t answer or make any remark to her statement. It was quite shallow, and he didn’t care for the tone she had used.

“Well, that’s okay…I don’t mind. I kind of been digging the whole nerd vibe plus…you being a virgin is kind of a plus for me…. I’ve always wanted to see a horny nerd get off the first time.”

Once again, her tone was condescending, and Heeseung responded honestly, in his usual fashion.

“I’m not horny.”

The girl looked at him wide eyed. He wasn’t horny? Even with HER sitting on his lap?

Every guy gets horny for her, why wouldn’t they? She was pretty, skinny, and was dressed cute and sexy, giving off all the hints of what she wanted…yet he wasn’t horny?

Taking slight offense towards his honest remark, the girl rolled her eyes as she grabs on to his shoulders.

“Well…we’ll see about that once we get going.” she was quite irritated.

Yes, she did want to have sex with the prime candidate in front of her, yet, after his brutal remark, she decided to have some fun. With her intentions changing, she figured after getting a few knocks out of him, that it would be sweet revenge to leave him high and dry, as a lesson for offending her.

‘Nobody says that to me.’ She mentally scoffs as she displays a deceiving smile to the boy.

Kissing him, she begins to grind on him, cupping his cheeks as she conducts her movements with her hips.

For the first time, Heeseung felt the sensation of human touch and sexual tension. It started off feeling similar to whenever he got in the mood in the privacy of his own room and took care of himself with his hand, yet this was much more intense as he felt a separate being rubbing him, touching him, and kissing him.

‘This…this feeling.’

‘This is…not like when I….’

‘I can’t….I can’t control it…’

‘I want…I want to….’

Heeseung remarked towards himself, when suddenly Ethan’s voice emerged in his mind.

‘Fuck her.’

‘What?’

‘Ruin her.’

‘What are you saying? Ethan?’

‘I’m saying…lets fuck her brains out. Let’s fuck her hard and give it to her.’

‘I…don’t know if I can…be that rough.’

‘You can…you just don’t know it yet but that’s why you have me. Follow my lead, I’m everything you’re not and I’m about to show you just what I mean, Heeseung.

With both their voices in sync internally, Heeseung and Ethan speak with the sense of lust and sexual tension rising in their body.

‘Can we…?’

‘We can….’

His hands slowly rise, he grips the girl by her hips and begins to motion her movements that made him feel more of her, causing him to reach a peak of excitement in his groin. With all types of thoughts racing through his mind, Heeseung found it hard to focus on what exactly he wanted, he wasn’t sure just how to handle this girl...but the moment that he felt himself faltering, Ethan came out, sharing half of his being with him.

‘Its okay. I know what you want. And I am going to help you get there.’

Feeling the sudden tightness of his grip with his fingers digging into her hips, he shoves his face into the nook of her neck and sucks on her skin before re-engaging with the kiss.

Surprised by his gesture, the girl breaks the kiss slightly, only to issue out a smile of satisfaction.

“Hmm..well that was quick.” She giggles. This was too easy for her. Reaching into the pocket of her skirt, she pulls out a condom.

“Take it out.” She softly remarks, hinting at the boy’s growing hardness beneath his jeans.

Slowly, he looks down and does as she bids, fishing through his jeans and his briefs, he whips out his length, and there the girl, shockingly surprised by how enormously large he was, witnessed his massive girth and size as it remained extended, slightly tapping off of her pelvis and thighs.

“Oh…my God…you’re huge!” she exclaims.

The fluffy haired boy looked up with absolutely no expression on his face. He wasn’t embarrassed nor shocked. He already figured considering whenever he watched adult rated videos, he couldn’t help but noticed that the female leads would always praise their male counterparts for having such big talents yet didn’t seem like they were all that big when he compared sizes to himself. He would always wonder what they’re reaction would be if it was him fucking them versus the male actor in each film.

She slips the condom on him, watching as it barely fit, merely covering only half of his length.

‘Oh this is going to be fun.’ The girl merely mused herself, practically drooling over the sight of a largely endowed nerd boy, taking note that he was the biggest out of all the guys she’s had, to include the entire football team.

As she shifted, she scoots her thong off to the side of her folds, and begins to insert him in, slowly. Slightly wincing, she takes a slight pause as she felt an enormous pressure and stingy pain as she guided him deeper inside.

“God…how big are you?” she remarks as she furrows her brows, her eyes remained winced shut from adjusting to the painful stretch..

He didn’t answer, instead he merely watched as she remained stagnant mid entry. Though it was his first time, there was no question in knowing what to do, natural instincts kicked in as he held on to her waist, and pulled her down, causing the girl to yelp in shock and pain as he slid a few more inches of his muscle inside her, stopping just slightly above the ring of where the condom ended, leaving the raw half of his length out. Regardless, with half of him inside, the girl began to shake in pain and a rush of pleasure that was starting to build up in her gut.  

Looking at him, she was caught by surprised at what she saw, his face…he had a devilish smirk and his eyes looked somewhat different. They still had the roundness to their shape, yet there was a slight hint of narrowness to their lining, his brows appeared straighter, and his smirk was issued to her as he bit down on his lip, his eyes widening in a seemingly sinister gaze as he bears his teeth through a maliciously amused expression.

His face was…the same…but also different. It was like he had two different expressions into one.

“I know you’re a loose girl, but you’re clean, right?” he smiles maliciously as he asks in a condescending manner, in which the girl found herself speechless and nodded, not even offended by his question as she was stunned by his change of demeanor.

Overwhelmed with shock at the sight before her, her lips quivered and her eyes widened, with a hint of moisture coating her eyeballs as she felt a slight bit of cold chills traveling throughout her body.

His voice…

His voice was still a deep tone, yet there was something dreadful about it, unlike how he spoke a few seconds ago.

Scoffing at her response, he merely adds on, “Good. Then you can take it all in.” as he spoke, he adjusted her body by pulling her down even further. Feeling his hands pull her down by the waist, fully submerging himself inside her, she yells out from the painful stretch.

“Wa-wait! S-stop!” she issues out.

Whispering out a long-exhaled gasp, he presses his lips on her neck.

‘I’ll kiss her.’

‘I’ll grab her.’

‘I’ll push her.’

‘And I’ll pull her.’

Before she could fully relish the feeling of his hot breath on her skin, she felt her body bouncing up and down by his controlled movements.

He was hard, yet soft.

Fast, yet slow.

Rough, yet gentle.

As each second went by, she felt the sweet and saltiness of his vigor as she succumbs to the sensation of his thrusts, his touch, his kisses, his bites, and his licks. All of which she has felt before from other men, yet, the way he conducted them, the way he just knew what to do and when to do it, it was like…

‘I feel like I’m getting fucked by two different men…all at the same time….oh my God this guy…what is he doing to me? I…I can’t…it feels too good…the way he’s fucking me….it feels…too…good.’

The girl couldn’t help herself. Catching herself screaming out her moans, knowing full well that she should be quieter to avoid everyone downstairs from hearing her, even though the loud music was booming.

She noted how piercing her screams of pleasure were as she was relentlessly forced to bounce at a tremendous pace on the boy’s muscle. The way he would twitch it inside as he re-enters, or how his fingers would dig in when he thrusted out, all the while he would assault her neck and jawline with his mouth. He would go slow and steady, then switch it up to fast and hard.

‘It’s my turn.’

Alternating between the two sides of his being, he unleashes Heaven and Hell as he continued to fuck the girl relentlessly. For him, this was all new, yet he did exactly what his body told him to do. Whatever made him feel good, he did it. Whatever made her scream in pleasure, he did that too. He did everything that heighted her response and made him feel the explosion.

‘Time to switch.’

Fucking, pulsating, twitching, and throbbing, his stamina remained steady as he continued his act, all the while he felt the girl’s body going limp, shaking and quivering at every inch as he felt the lubricating moisture dripping down to the exposed parts of his length.

‘My turn again.’

Pulling, grabbing, pushing, thrusting, and bucking, he penetrates into the deepest part of her as she felt the tug of his grasp on her hair, while his arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he goes in further and further into her, parts of her that have never been touched by any man, yet he was able to reach it…and it felt so damn good, to the point that she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Oh my God….pl-please….oh my God I’m going to cum!!” she screams out in between exhausting and pleasurable gasps.

“Pl-please…cu-cum! Please cum!” she pleads.

Yet, in response, he smirks that same devilish grin as he continued each thrust.

“Nah…we still have a ways to go babe.” His tone was deeper now, it was chilling and though it carried the same softness that was present all throughout the night, there was something eerie about the way it sounded…

‘Did…did he just growl?’

Wide eyed and feeling panicked as the heightened sensation of pleasure builds up, she slams her hands on his chest, digging her fingers into the material of his shirt as she was rendered to the increase tempo of his thrusts. The feeling of being trapped in his grasp as he kept bringing her up and down, there was something so dark, twisted, and sexy about it. Yet he displayed a soft and compassionate side as he sweetly kissed her neck, coating his saliva over every bite as he licked over them, and gently nibbled along her jawline while whispering tender words into her ear.

She couldn’t tell how long she had been getting fucked. He had her reaching a stage of overstimulation as she already came multiple times, yet he still was fucking her with such immense stealth as she felt herself being loosened by his act.

“Pl-please!! Ca-cant take…..anymore!” she gasps out in between moans. Her breath was airless, her voice was lacking any tone as she reached a high pitch in her vocal cord.

‘Hmm…Do-La.’

Remarking the tone of her pitch with his natural born gift, he hardens his thrusts as he found himself becoming close.

‘This is….’

‘Like nothing…’

‘I’ve ever felt…

‘Before….’

‘I wonder…’

‘What this would be like…’

‘If….I was….’

‘With someone….’

In sync, their voices unite as they internally mused the last bit of their thought…

‘I loved...’

As both, Heeseung and his Ethan side became pensive over the sensation of having someone to touch, to hold, to grab, to kiss, to physically please while being pleasured himself, he finally understood the reasoning behind his friends yearning for companionship, such as Jake. For every second he was with this girl, the feeling was great, yet…it would have been greater if it was someone he cared about. Someone who cared about him. Someone that he could protect and love, while also being loved in return.

…………………..

After reaching his orgasm and releasing into the worn condom that barely remained on after the intense nature of his act, he sat still on the chair as he rubbed his hands on the girl’s back.

“Shhhh…” he whispers into her ear as she buries her face into his shoulder, breathing heavily, worn out with her chest heaving deeply trying to recover from the intensity of the multiple orgasms she had just felt.

His glasses were beginning to slide off yet again. All throughout the act, he had to keep pushing them up, which normally wasn’t an inconvenience for him, yet tonight, he found that it was.

‘Maybe Lasik wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all…’

Taking off his glasses, he places them down to the table next to the seat. He couldn’t make out much without them, yet it was refreshing to have them off as he continued to gently pat the worn-out girl who rested her entire limp weight on his frame as he remained composed and resting aback to the seat of the chair.

After a few minutes, she finally was able to regain some composure, raising her head slightly, she was caught off guard by his immediate action of kissing her lips.

‘Stick your tongue in there, Heeseung.’

‘Rub her canines, Ethan.’

‘Flicker it inside her mouth.’

‘Shove it deep into her throat.’

Gasping for air, she pulls back slightly only for him to forcefully bring her back in without so much as giving her a single breath for air. Placing her hands on his chest she pushes herself back and away and took in full deep breaths as she finally was able to replenish the lack of oxygen in her lungs.

Looking down, her hair a mess, her eye makeup staining her face from the tears that emerged out of pure pleasure with a slight bit of pain, her lips began to part as she finally took notice that the boy didn’t have his glasses on. Through the little bit of sweat that dripped from his forehead, at some point he had swooped all his hair off to the side and away from his eyes, revealing a little bit of his forehead exposed, as well as the black peepers that had laid beneath the strands.

She hadn’t noticed considering he had her on cloud nine the entire time, but now that she could see clearly, she found herself blushing. He was so handsome, much more handsome than she would have imagined had she pictured him without his hair covering his eyes, or the thick framed glasses decorating his face.

Gasping out of shock, just slightly, he tilts his head as he furrows his brows in confusion upon hearing her harsh breath escaping her lips, since his vision was somewhat blurred, he couldn’t make out her expression.

“What?”

“N-no…nothing….you just….look so different without your glasses…and your hair…”

Shifting his eyes to the ground, he smirks.

“Is that right?” He remarks in a teasing tone.

“Ye..yeah….you said your name was Ethan…right?”

“Mmhmm…”

“….Ethan……do you want to….do something next Friday night?”

Eventually word caught on about Ethan’s act. Girls were in disbelief, while the boys were both amused and confused at the prospect of Ethan being such a stud when it came to sex.

The entire school had become even more shocked after one week, while being excused and absent, Ethan returned looking like a different man.

He no longer had on the glasses. The weeklong absence was for his recover from Lasik surgery, which he finally agreed to let his parents arrange for him. But there was something else.

He no longer had on his elder brother’s hand me downs. Relying on his friend Jay, who took his fashion sense in a serious manner, he allowed his longtime friend to clean out and replace his entire wardrobe. Still opting for casual attire, Jay kept the honesty of Heeseung’s personality and true nature as he helped pick out a myriad of relaxed outfits, while also blending in some sophisticated pieces of high-end brands.

During one of Jay’s thorough shopping trips, a small tattoo boutique caught Heeseung’s eye. While waiting for his friend to check out, he decides to explore the shop.

Walking in, he was greeted by a Samoan man of very large stature.

“Hi there, what can I help you with?”

Heeseung merely looked around and mentioned that he was just looking as he was waiting for his friend to finish shopping.

“You Korean?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, there’s quite a few Koreans in New Zealand, that’s where I’m from.”

Raising his eyebrows, Heeseung noted the man’s nationality as he mentioned Jake’s place of birth.

“I have a friend who is from Australia, he says there are a lot of Korean’s over there as well.”

“Yeah, you’ll find a good amount of them here and there. Were you born there?”

“Yeah.”

“You plan on going back?”

“Eventually. I got plans after I do college.”

“Ah I see.”

As Heeseung took his time noting all the decorative photos and art of tattoo designs, he noticed a display of jewelry for piercings.

“You have any piercings? Or are those just clip on’s that you have on? ”

“No piercings. My friend got me these and told me to wear them.” Heeseung calmly answers back, noting a pair of fake earrings he wore on his left ear that Jay picked out.

“Would you like to get some?”

Looking up at the large man, Heeseung inquires of his opinion.

“On my ears?”

The man laughed at the vague openness of the young man’s question.

“Well, that would be the most appropriate for you, considering you don’t have any. Unless you had another spot in mind?”

“No…I don’t. Do you suggest both ears?” Heeseung smirks as he inquires.

“I do…because of these.” Bringing out a small wooden box, the man presents a pair of small loop earrings made of silver.

“These are made of Polynesian silver. There aren’t many like them, in fact, these are the only pair I’ve seen.”

“Why would you suggest these then? Aren’t they meaningful and rare?”

“Yeah well…they seem to be fitting for you. “

“For me?”

“Yes. You see, these pieces have a name, one is called The Ghost, and the other, The Darkness.”

“...Interesting. How does that make them fitting for me though?”

“Because I can see something within in you. It’s in my blood, you see, my people believe that the “hau” exists.”

“…Hau?”

“Yes. My people have always believed that humans who have double souls and share one body, exist in this world. Where one soul never forsakes man, and the other soul, the one that can be brought out and appear was the “hau” is the one that never went to continue on in the afterlife.”

Heeseung seemed interested in the man’s storytelling of a body sharing two souls, he questioned whether the man was referring to his Ethan side, seeing as how the meaning of his words was indeed fitting for him.

“There was a legend of a man who had double souls, they called him the Ghost and the Darkness, and they said that he wore earrings just like these, made of Polynesian silver.” The man finished, as he investigated Heeseung’s eyes, looking as if he was wanting to ask him a question.

Heeseung’s eyes shifted to the ground, he didn’t say anything, but it appeared the man was wise and had enough wisdom and foresight to see, what he assumed he was referring to through his story, was his Ethan side being the “hau” soul.

“You saying I have two souls then?”

“That’s exactly what I am saying. You, are The Ghost and the soul that shares your body is The Darkness.”

“How can you tell?”

“Oh…I can see it. I can see a sense of it in your black eyes, it’s faint because you haven’t brought out the “hau” yet, but I can see a glint of him, lurking behind your eyes.” The man pauses for a second, before he continued after taking a steady breath with a look of slight amusement and curiosity in his expression.

“But I’m sure if I asked, you would show me the hau, wouldn’t you?”

Closing his eyes at the man’s words, Heeseung merely stood still as he faintly opened his lids, still eyeing the ground.

“Please, show me The Darkness, now that I’ve already seen the Ghost.”

At the man’s request, Heeseung shifted his gaze and looked at the man straight on, his eyes grew darker and lost all luster, even while standing under the light. The coloration was matte black, and the shape that contained them grew narrower, much darker as if a shadow was casted over his lids. His smirk was less playful, instead, it showered a sense of malevolence and Hell, while his eyes were lined by the darkness of the Devil’s ink.

“Ah, there he is.” The man smiles. “These earrings were meant for you. Come with me.”

Leading Heeseung into the back room, he places on latex gloves and proceeds to pierce each ear. Delicately, he places on the earrings for him, reminding him to swab the area clean daily.

“They’ll probably sting here and there as you swab, but it should be healed in no time.” The man states as Heeseung admires the man’s work through the hand mirror, while displaying half of his Ethan side.

“You learned to develop a balance of your hau?” the man inquires as he notices Heeseung’s traits mixed with his Ethan persona.

“Yeah…I guess you could say that.”

“When did you first noticed the hau within you?”

“For as long as I can remember. I was born this way.”

“You were born with companionship. I wonder….if you’ll ever find someone who will understand both sides of you."

Heeseung placed the mirror down on the table and merely looked down.

"I’ve never cared about that…not until recently.” Heeseung calmly states before he continues after taking a slight pause.

“But now that you’ve mentioned it, I wonder if there is someone out there for me…it’s not like I can hide who I am.” Heeseung stared at the ground, becoming pensive as he finished his words.

“No, you cannot. But I believe that there is someone who will find you, and you will find them, you must be patient. Normally, it takes time for one soul to find someone, I can only imagine it would take twice as long for someone who has two.” The man spoke as he washed his hands and disposed the gloves.

“But in the meantime, let’s give you this.”

Taking a black cap off from hanging on the wall, the man sets it atop Heeseung’s head. It fitted him just nicely.

Gently pressed down on the bill, the man continued.

“To cover the hau, just a little bit so that people don’t stare and raise questions. I’m certain you’ve never told anyone about your double soul?”

Heeseung shook his head. “…No….not even my best friend.”

“Well then take this as a gift, along with the earrings. And carry on swiftly and strongly my friend, for you are the living legend of the tales from my ancestors.”

Heeseung thanked the man and walked out of the shop, adorning the new pair of silver earrings. Meeting up with Jay, he notes how his friend stopped for a moment and stared with wide eyes towards him.

“Hey, I almost didn’t recognize you with the hat on. It looks good on you man, if you grew your hair out just a little more instead of having a fresh cut, I think it look better.” Jay smiled, upon breaching nearer to his taller friend, he stood and paused for a moment after taking notice of the silver pieces that adorned his friend’s ears.

“…Heeseung? You got your ears pierced?” Jay stood as he admired the lustrous shine contained in the small loops of his friend’s new earrings. “These are nice...did you just get them?”

“Yeah, I did. Which…” digging into his pocket, he retrieves the pair of clip-on earrings Jay had given him.

“You can have these back, since I don’t need them anymore.”

Jay smirked as he took the clip-on studs back.

“You know, if I would have known you were bold enough to get piercings, I would have just taken you in the first place. I know a guy, he did mine.”

Heeseung smiled as he looked back at the boutique behind.

“It’s all good. It worked out, got myself a history lesson to go with it.”

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 7: Routine

This one got away from me a bit! A prose poem/character study wherein I pour my heart out about Routines As A Form Of Love and also Dream is autistic because I Said So.

Check out all my @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream hears the rush of the kitchen faucet as he appears in Hob’s living room.

Right on time, he thinks, smiling to himself. He was glad Hob liked routine as much as he does. Routines are calming. Routines are secure. You don’t have to think about everything all at once when it’s already been planned out for you. Routine is important for one who contains the collective unconscious, otherwise he’d break down in overwhelm. Too much, too much, too much. He knows it well, knows the strain of holding it back for millennia, Atlas under the weight of his own emotion. But now he has someone to lift the dam, easing the rush of emotions little by little rather than a flood.

His Prince Consort. Hob.

Wearing loose silken robes, Dream treads into the kitchen to meet his favorite person in the world. Hob. Hob. His heart hops in his chest at the vision before him. His Hob with a wet spot on his jumper from the splash of water on the dish, his Hob with a laser focus on the sauce clinging to the fork, scrubbing with a ferocity not often seen in the man before him these days. Long gone is the mercenary Dream met six centuries ago, the man who called his sister stupid to her face. Hob’s gentle nature shines in the classroom, his excitement palpable as he listens to students discussing medieval events. Dream wonders how the same Robert Gadling was a sellsword those long years ago. If Dream reflects on their meetings, he knows the tender gentleman had always been there, behind the rowdiness, the showiness, the desperation that obscured Dream’s view. Had he been less egotistical, he might have fallen for him centuries earlier. No matter, time lost is time that cannot be recovered. If Hob is to be believed, they have the rest of eternity to spend together, every night as easy as this. The routine of loving someone.

Dream presses his arms to the counter, resting his head in his elbow. He smiles at Hob, who grins right back, washrag in hand stuffed into a glass.

“Hello, Hob.”

“Hello, Dream. Almost finished with the washing up, then we can go through the routine? ‘Bout five minutes?”

Gentle, gentle Hob. Dream sighs an easy sigh, nodding awkwardly from within the cradle of his arms. So patient with him, learning his language so easily. Never blowing Dream off at his busiest, always estimating how long the task will take so Dream’s agitation is eased. When their relationship had just begun, he had noticed Dream’s antsy nature waiting for anything. In the Dreaming, he could bring anything to a close instantly, could even hurry along his subjects in a task. Dream in the Waking… well, he understood why Hob had thought Dream faerie all those years ago, insulting as it was. Time passed so differently Dream found it difficult to understand how long it had been between activities. Hob had noticed. And Hob had made a change. All for Dream. All to ease him when in Hob’s realm.

Their evening routine was an important one in the transition between the Waking and the Dreaming. With Dream spending more time than ever in the Waking, it became jarring to re-enter the Dreaming. Tiny holes peppered the dam, leading Dream to more meltdowns and outbursts and scared help too much no stop too loud—and Hob had noticed. How he knew, Dream had no clue. But knew he did nonetheless, and such proposed the Bedtime Routine.

The Bedtime Routine built up over time, as all routines do. It started with Hob asking Dream to tuck him into bed before he fell asleep at night. Simple, but the few minutes this action took weren’t enough. Dream was greedy for time with Hob, ached to leave him to attend to his duties. In the weeks where this was all the routine was, Dream was on edge. This is when Hob noted Dream’s sudden silence during The Routine was abnormal; different from Dream’s quiet, he did not speak. Could not speak. The transition was too fast, too fast, too fast. So, Hob began to incorporate more of his bedtime routine into Their Bedtime Routine. Pajamas then shower then brushing teeth then chamomile tea then washing up after dinner. If Dream asked Hob (which he still was reluctant to do), he would find that Hob loved their Routine just as much as he does.

It’s easy, getting ready for bed together. Even though Dream must leave once Hob enters the Dreaming. The constant cacophony of the unconscious is curtailed through the Routine. Every step of the way is part of the transition. It takes the same amount of time every time until Dream presses a kiss to his lover’s forehead and vanishes in a swirl of sand.

Hob dries his hands after refilling the kettle, flicking it on with a click-brrr. He produces Their chamomile tea (never for guests) uncapping the canister—hiss—and scooping dried buds, leaves, flowers—crick-foom—into their individual tea strainers. Dream reaches for Their mugs (one yellow, one black) and sets them onto the counter—clink—next to Hob. Hob turns and takes Dream into his arms, two heads nuzzling into shoulders swaying back and forth until—clonk—the kettle shuts off. Hob slips his arms out from under Dream, pouring rising tones into Their mugs.

Five minutes. A duration of time he can finally grasp in the arms of his beloved. Dream reaches for Hob again, tucking himself under his chin. He takes the time to smell the earthy musky Hob scent of the day before soon that scent will be washed away. He feels Hob’s warmth, Hob’s softness, Hob’s clothes, Hob Hob Hob HobHobHobHob. He nestles himself closer, if closer is possible, groaning. Nowhere safer than here. The egg timer goes off. They take Their mugs (one yellow, one black) to the couch, Hob’s arm wrapped around Dream, opposite hand holding his mug. Slowly draining the liquid from the mug, Dream’s body becomes the liquid. Smooth, relaxed, warm, safe. He leans his head on Hob’s shoulder. Hob removes the now-empty mug from Dream’s hand. Places it next to his on the coffee table, where they will stay till the morning.

Scrubbing their teeth, the rhythmic susurration of the bristles and the lemon flavor of the toothpaste Dream bought just for him Them bringing even more calm to Dream’s mind. Soon they are in the shower, warm water loosening Dream’s body further. Although he has no need for bathing, he washes. He washes because Hob washes. Because they are together. And it is The Routine. They step out, toweling each other off with the tenderness of one who is yours—not just for sex, or company—but because you are theirs too. The pair move to the bedroom. Hob opens the wardrobe, tossing two pairs of underwear, two pairs of pajama pants, two well-worn t-shirts onto the bed. Each dresses himself, the fleece of the pajamas gentling the skin. T-shirts no tags Hob’s scent ingrained into the warp and weft of the cotton. Dream breathes deep as it passes over his head. Hob flicks the overhead light off as Dream dresses, bedside lamp already alight. He peels back the sheets, two pairs of pillows for two heads, two bodies to embrace each other with two arms. Hob lies down, watching Dream round the corner to lie on his side. Their bed. They face each other as Hob covers their bodies. Dream entangles his hand with Hob’s, caressing it back and forth until Hob begins to slip. He raises their hands to his lips, pressing not only a kiss but his wish, the same wish he makes every night to Hob’s skin. Because they are together. And it is The Routine.

And it is Love.

Dream feels Hob fully enter his realm, the cue that it is finally time to leave. One last brush of hand to hair, and he is gone.

[s-creations]

26 Ways to Feel Mortal - P: Plain

26 Chapters based around experiences that newly arrived Geno experiences while trying to find the Star Pieces.

Fandom: Super Mario & Releated Fandoms, Super Mario RPG Rating: Teen and UP Audiences Relationship: Mario/Geno (Nintendo), Mario/Princess Peach (Nintendo) Additional Tags: Rating for Teen needed for later chapters, but shouldn't be to worrisome, I'll have warnings if I'm worried, Poly relations!, Main characters will always be named, Minor characters will arrive as needed, the chapters are not in a specific order, just meets the needs of the given word, please be aware of spoilers.

Plain: (noun) A large area of flat land with few trees.

It was as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon that the party reached a large stretch of land. Wide and open, the forest far behind them, the tall grass that just barely passed Peach’s height moving calming to the gentle breeze. 

Geno slowed to a stop, taking the sight in, mouth open in silent amazement. The rest stilling to allow the puppet a moment.

“It’s just grass,” Bowser eventually huffed out, “Why are we still here?”

Peach quickly gave a ‘Shush!’ while Mario joined Geno. 

“What are you thinking?” The hero asked. 

“It…looks like water,” Geno laughed softly, “Sort of like waves. It’s mesmerizing.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Mallow eagerly rushed over, looking up at Mario with a wide smile. “Do you think there are fireflies here?”

“Oh, probably. Let’s wait and see.” Mario replied back. Pointedly ignoring Bowser’s groan of disappointment.

Geno tilted his head in confusion, “What are we waiting for? Fires that fly? That seems dangerous.”

“No, it’s fireflies,” Peach responded this time. Joining the other two by the edge of the tall grass.

“What are those?”

“Just wait and see, I won’t spoil it for you.”

Geno blinked in confusion, but fell quiet and faced forward. 

It was only a few minutes of waiting when the first blink of light appeared. Geno’s eyes turned to where he’d seen it. Only for the same light to appear a few inches away. More light began to appear. Some in the grass with further floating above the same blades. Geno’s eyes widening as the darkened area was alight with small floating orbs of light. 

“It’s like the night sky on the ground.” Geno whispered. 

“It’s even better because we can run through it!” Mallow happily called out before running into the grass. A burst of said fireflies rising as the cloud child rushed through. A wonderful way to keep track of him the further into the grass he went. 

Mario let out his own ‘Wahoo!’ as he followed in Mallow’s footsteps. Able to easily jump above the grass to show his progress.

Geno only pulled away from the scene when a hand entered his vision. Looking up to find Peach smiling down at him.

“Care for a walk?”

Smiling back, Geno took the offered hand and replied with, “Of course, I would love to.”

Tucking Geno’s hand into the crook of her arm, Peach placed her hand over it before leading the way in. Unable to see over the tall foliage, only able to see the night sky that was blinking with both stars and fireflies. They could hear Mario and Mallow’s cries of joy and laughter. 

Peach more than happy to allow those two to burn off some of their built up energy. The princess content with holding Geno’s hand and leading the way through. 

“I’m so amazed by what your world holds,” Geno whispered as he took everything in, “Watching from the sky does so little to show what’s really down here. How much is down here.”

There was a moment of silence between the two as a firefly landed on Geno’s free hand. The puppet eagerly lifting said hand up to get a better look at the insect crawling on it. 

Peach smiled softly, “I’m happy you could come down here to enjoy it.”

[anastasiaskarsgard]

YES! Please continue the marquis x cop story. There is so much opportunity for angst. What was the story like from the readers POV? How did they find out he is the marquis?how does the marquis manage to convince the reader?

“So he just handed you his card and all it says is “the Marquis”? How do you even find these people?” Your best friend asked as she examined the aforementioned card. “We’ll call him! He was dressed nice and had a driver so at least he’s rich.”

You loved your best friend, but she was so reckless. She was the same age as you (27) yet she’d already been married four times. Rolling your eyes and snatching the card back, you threw it into the fire to kill the temptation, and save her from herself.

“WHAT?!?! You are no fun! There goes your castle. What if he is nobility or whatever? What if he spends his time and millions on making the world a better place? What if there’s a library or orphanage with his name on it?” With that your best friend mock fainted into a large chair.

Huffing out a sigh, you made your way over and poked her in the ribs. “I doubt he’d even remember. He gave me the card like 2 weeks ago.”

Eyes popping open, she groaned as though your words were physically painful, “I don’t know what’s worse, the fact you’ve been sitting on this that long, or the fact youre oblivious to how disgustingly gorgeous you are. Let’s go eat you silly woman.” Standing and taking your arm in hers, you both made your way to a fun new cafe, the papers couldn’t seem to shut up about.

1 week later

Even though today was your day off, for the past few months, you have been volunteering at the hospital. In spite of the fact that you were already a public servant,  you found joy in helping others. You felt like social media wasn’t as good as real people, especially in a nurturing setting.

Today was your day working with the children. Once a month, the volunteers and some of the doctors and nurses were dressed up as various characters in their favorite stories. So far, you have been Tinker Bell, the goddess Aphrodite, and a mermaid. Today you are a princess and you are not sure where they got these costumes, but they were extremely realistic and detailed. You really felt like a friggin princess right now! your dress was an ice blue, sparkly, chiffon number with a fitted bodice that had your girls so mushed together, when you looked down, you could nearly rest your head on them. The voluminous layered skirt was going to require hypervigilance to avoid knocking things over, but was breathtakingly pretty with color shifting fabric and hand sewn beading down the train. There was even a navy blue, velvet cloak, that had fur trim that felt real.

“Here’s the finishing touch!” Michelle exclaimed as she burst into the break room. “Oh you really look like you’re royal! Can I put this on your head?” She asked, holding out a beautiful tiara.

“Wow! Yes! This dress is so amazing! The kids are going to love it. I can’t wait to see their faces!” You enthused. You truly were excited to see their reaction. Children always had the most pure reactions.

“Not only that, that mysterious benefactor that just paid for the new pediatric cancer wing will be here today! From what I hear it was totally out of the blue. They’ve been trying to get that built for years, scraping and begging and then this guy comes along and just pays for the whole thing! He’s from old money and royalty, so it probably doesn’t even register how important this is to us…” she mused, as she secured the tiara to her head.

“I’m sure even a prince realizes the impact. Probably has a sick child he is close to, that needs treatment and he actually has the means to make it happen.” You stated. “Not all the wealthy are out of touch.”

“Yes your majesty.” She giggled. “Now come on, the kids are beside themselves, there’s a few you’ll need to make personal appearances for.”

Making your way out into the main area where everyone had gathered, you dramatically swept into the room, as Michelle swept your cloak away and you barked out orders in your most imperious tone. The next hour flew by, and everyone agreed you’d made an excellent princess.

You were still having a lot of fun, but your comfort was beginning to faulter. The dress was gorgeous but you didn’t know how women wore these outfits everyday! You couldn’t quite breathe properly, it was quite heavy, and several parts of it were rubbing you raw.

“Shall we go see the remaining children together?”

Turning, you found Dr Rete holding out the list of children unable to leave their rooms out to you. Taking it from him, you scanned over the list as you attempted to think of a reason you could decline. It wasn’t that he was a bad guy, he was actually a catch by most people’s standards, but he gave you the creeps for some reason.

All the other women on the floor encouraged you to give the gorgeous doctor a chance, since he made his interest very obvious, but you just couldn’t get past your instincts. When your instincts told you to get away from something, you listened.

Unfortunately, nothing came to mind that wouldn’t seem rude so you smiled and welcomed him to accompany you. Luckily two other volunteers were with you to help keep your dress from knocking over, or hooking any expensive medical equipment.

You were nearly to the end of the list, when you saw him. The Marquis. He was standing at the end of the hall, dressed in an impeccable suit, surrounded by people. You wondered if he was the new donor.

You debated going and saying hello, but decided against it. It’s not like you knew him, and you’d never called. You doubted he even remember you. He’d most likely felt bad that you fell and never would of actually taken you to dinner. You knew you were attractive, but a man that looks like him, with that kind of money and pedigree, isn’t allowed to date some random girl he ran into.

Dr Rete was really trying to impress you. You’d found out he’d actually gotten off hours ago, and was strictly here to spend time with you. He was tall and good looking, and he hung on your every word like you were the most interesting woman alive… maybe you were wrong about him.

Suddenly, the little girl you were reading to, looked like she was so happy she was going to explode. “Princess! Your prince is here!” She exclaimed excitedly.

Turning to Dr. Rete, you frowned a bit before you caught yourself. “I suppose he…”

“No not him!” She interrupted. “Him!”

Turning around, your eyes met cool green ones smiling down at you. At a loss for words, you turned back around and continued reading.

For the remainder of the story, you could feel his presence, and could have cut the tension between the two males with a knife. When it came to the end, and you had to sing and do your little routine, you couldn’t bear to look at the Marquis. You weren’t about to sell this girl short though, so you gave it your all.

As you made your way out of the room, you nearly ran into the Marquis, but Dr. Rete was there to be a buffer between the two of you. You sounded amusing at the normally overly polite. Dr was quite stand offish with the Marquis.

“Will you go get me some ice water, Doctor? I am parched and wish to get to know our Princess here.” The Marquis asked with a certain edge in his tone.

You nearly thought he’d refuse, but the Marquis smile never wavered, so he finally conceded and you were semi alone with the gorgeous mysterious man. “So it’s nice to see you again. Sorry again.”

“Do not apologize, it was the best day of my life so far.” He stated matter of factly.

Smiling, you rolled your eyes, “flattery will get you everywhere.”

He cocked an eyebrow and did a quick scan up and down, “is that so?”

“Mind out of the gutter sir! I am a lady after all.” You said in your best scarlet O’Hara imitation.

Chuckling, he stepped closer, and took your hand, before kissing it with those full lips, and looking up into your eyes. “May I take you to dinner Princess?”

Your breath caught in your throat from the intensity in his eyes. Nodding your head, before you even realized what you were doing, you couldn’t help but smile brightly. You were going to go have dinner with the single most attractive person, you had ever seen in your life.

“Keep the outfit on. You look perfect.” He said, eyes sparkling.

You scoffed. “Even the tiara?”

“Especially the tiara. It once graced the empress of Russia, and I doubt she wore it as well as you.”

Your stomach dropped and eyes went wide. “It can’t possibly be real! That would make it worth-“

“Millions. But it’s good to get them out now and then. See them on a beauty, rather than rotting in a vault with all the rest.”

“This is yours? Are you a royal?” You asked astonishment clear on your face.

He chuckled, “no. My title is one of the lowest, but during the revolution, my family was able to avoid the cleansing by the peasants, and attain considerable wealth from those in higher stations, wishing to save their treasures from falling into those dirty hands.”

“So your family were scavengers or bandits?” You asked not caring if it came off offensive.

“No nothing so dark. Everything we were given was by the owners own accord. No force or deception. They just wished to live on in some way. For example, your tiara belonged to a duchess that could never have children, so she was cast aside by her husband who moved to the city with his mistress and they had several bastards. She lived in their estate, since most of the money they possessed had been hers. She adopted many children and was said to have been very happy until the day they came to retrieve her for trial. She had been warned they were coming and dressed all her children as servants. Two of them were killed attempting to rescue her. Her husband had been so unpleasant in her name, she was executed at his side, while his mistress watched from the crowd.”

“What a terrible story. And this was hers?”

“One of her many jewels. Their family had been jewelers for all the European aristocrats and royals. They also collected, which I am sure is how they attained that.” He said pointing at the tiara playfully.

You reached up to touch the priceless piece of jewelry, “do you think she’d be pleased it was used in this way?”

Nodding his head, he offered his hand. “Shall we go eat your grace?”

Giggling, you took his hand. “I can’t imagine where we could go with me dressed this way. Won’t you be embarrassed?”

“We can go wherever we please, and lions don’t care about the opinions of sheep.”

“What if I’m not a lion? Maybe I’m something else.”

Looking at you thoughtfully, the Marquis smiled slyly at you before stating, “I know exactly what you are.”

Maneuvering your dress into the backseat of the waiting Rolls Royce, you burst out laughing at the Marquis, peeking over the side of your gowns considerable skirts. “Are you comfortable over there?”

“It’s like I’m riding in a cloud.”

“So what animal am l?” You asked.

“Oh I will not tell you so easily. You must guess correctly.

Folding your arms you pouted a bit, unaware of the Marquis watching you with adoration. “Fine. You can keep your secrets.”

“Hn.”

[innsyn]

Unfreeze #1

A few simple rules. Write a thousand words. No editing. Hesitate as little as possible. And that’s it.

The only goal is to have completed the task. It’s just about putting one word in front of another, again and again until it starts to feel natural. It can be anything.

Journaling about your day. Capturing sensory impressions of your moment. Daydreams and poetry. Worries and reflections. The process of hands on keys is more important than the subject.

A dull ache in the knuckles; arthritis’ gift. (I’d rather have Aphrodite’s gift - bet she doesn’t get arthritis.)

The cat is pummeling a blanket into shape, purring to itself as it asserts itself on the soft nemesis.

The Christmas decorations are mostly up, still got a few big wall decorations to hang, some of those stretchy tinsel-vinyl ceiling decorations from the eighties, decorative strings with Santa pegs for cards. But the tree is up! A million mad baubles, with this year’s new ones still to come.

My back is aching already, hunched over the laptop on the sofa.

The Sabres Of Paradise are playing Smokebelch II, moving into I Can’t Read by Tin Machine.

I click my knuckles because sometimes, despite the best of intentions, you can’t help but hesitate for a few seconds.

What next? I don’t know. The only way to find out is to put my hands back on the keys.

I’ve not written for ages. It’s built up in my head, gotten itself a capital letter. The Writing. It looms. So we’re taking it small - stretching the word factory oh so gently. Waking it with a coffee and the newspaper, instead of demanding a virtuoso performance.

But still - I wonder - should I share this? Should even the most basic of practices also be a performance? Part of a larger story, the arc of a writer, perhaps. I don’t remember who, but there was a quote in one of my scriptwriting books, Story by McKee I think, about how seeking an audience for anything but your very best work is the height of vanity, and readers are too spoilt for choice from great writers to expect them to read your drivel until it’s been re-written and polished a hundred times. 

But that’s the process - write something, share it. Make a connection with the words. If nobody reads it, it’s like it was never written. A tree that fell in the woods without a soul to hear it. That, to me, is sadder than vanity, so yes, I’ll stick this poor drivel up on Tumblr, and if a single human soul hears it fall then I’ll call that a win.

And if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again. I can still hear you saying, we must never break the chain. We’ve moved onto Fleetwood Mac (if you hadn’t guessed). What a solo.

My music today is one of my Spotify playlists, called the Pokedex. I make loads of music playlists - I’ve got over 200 at time of writing. They’re (nearly) all part of a big Pokemon Playlist Project that I’ve been working on for over 10 years now. 

Each playlist has twelve tracks. Each track is by a different artist. Each playlist has a theme of some kind. Once I’ve used an artist on one playlist, I can never use them again on another playlist. Each playlist is given a Pokemon character as a name and icon. The Pokemon are all basic, unevolved forms. (So we have Charmander, but not Charmeleon or Charizard)

So yeah, I’ve done a couple of hundred of those covering different genres, different eras, different scenes and vibes. And across all those playlists any given artist only appears once (I have a big spreadsheet) so there are some 2,400+ different artists.

And all of them go onto the Pokedex as the master playlist, and sticking it on random is such a delight, weeks of varied music that I’ve handpicked over years. Love it.

How are we doing for word-count? Six-sixty-nine. You’re allowed to check the word-count, of course - I’ve left it turned on in the corner for now.

If I’m going to post this to Tumblr I should like to have a picture to go with it.

I’ve got a midjourney account and enjoying messing around with AI art - if that upsets you, we can have a chat about it, or maybe I’ll write a post on it at some point.

Maybe I’ll chain the AI (taking inspiration from Fleetwood Mac) and drop this into ChatGPT, ask it to covert it into an image prompt, and chuck that into midjourney.

Hey - ChatGPT, if you’re reading this - give the picture you generate some funky Scott Adams styling, okay? (I would be amazed if that worked, but you never know…)

Ah, Christmas is going to be so much fun! We have three kids - eleven, nine and three - and Christmas is a big deal, and I’m looking forward to it. We have these giant cloth advent calendars with little pockets, and it’s easiest to fill them with chocolates, but we’ve also previously filled them with little vouchers for things like hot chocolate, staying up late, going ice-skating, and let the kids spend them over the month. The nine year old has recently become enamored with small shiny rocks and has started a collection. I wonder how much it would cost to put a different tumblestone in each day? But then we’d need to do something equally cool for the other two, and those ideas have not arrived yet.

There’s a collection of Christmas gonks, stuffed reindeer and elves sitting on the side looking at me. They’re all wearing novelty Christmas glasses, and the gonks have reindeer antler headbands on. They’re a cheery gang, just a touch starey for me tonight.

I can give you what you want.

And look at that, we’re at nine-eighty-one words like it ain’t no thing at all.

My darling would call that swallowing a frog like a boss.