#I simply like to think about *why* he got to be this way

[sttoru]

outlaw!toji who initially kidnapped you for money, to rob you from your valuable belongings, eventually forms a strange attachment to you. he can’t help but feel a faint twinge of guilt for robbing a pretty and delicate little thing like you.

so, he decides to let you return to your beloved family in town. though he does not let you go completely.

every now and then when toji is passing by the town you reside in - avoiding sheriffs and other people whom could possibly recognise him from the wanted posters plastered on every wall - he looks for you.

of course, you freak out the first time he sneaked up on you. however slowly yet surely, you let your guard down. the outlaw didn’t harm you in any way after all.

“how ‘re ya doin’, princess?” toji would always greet you with that signature, cocky smirk of his, leaning against a nearby wall with his arms crossed over his chiseled chest or his hands on his worn gun belt.

sometimes you reply quickly, but on other occasions you indulge him and continue the conversation. it’s often at night that he visits you, so you have less of a chance to get caught together.

you don’t know when or how toji found out where your family’s house is. he simply started showing up at your balcony once in a while, just to catch up. after a couple times, you even let him in.

those nightly visits swiftly turned into something more intimate. it feels so wrong yet so right. a dangerous criminal who’s killed hundreds, who had even kidnapped you one day, being invited into your bed— how scandalous.

though you can’t help it. his callused yet warm hands that touch your skin, his burly body that presses you into the mattress just right, his slightly chapped lips that nip at your flesh and leave marks. . . you don’t regret a thing.

especially when you’re both catching your breath after an intense encounter. toji’s muscular body, filled with countless of scars, blankets yours easily. his arms cradle you to his bare chest afterwards and all you can do is relax against him.

“i think i really hit the jackpot with ya, aye? may not have robbed ya of yer stuff that day, but i got ma prize money one way or ‘nother,” the rugged outlaw grins as he lights up a cigar and holds it between his lips.

you can’t even tell him off for smoking in your room. toji’s fingers massage your scalp so good to the point you’re putty in his hands. the scent of tobacco is also comforting. it’s one you associate with him, because he always smells like it. it’s always a combination of tobacco, nature, horses and gunpowder.

toji knows that he has to leave before anyone comes checking in on you, but he can’t leave you when you look so adorable, clinging onto him like a lifeline.

every time he visits, it’s the same exciting story.

when toji is in a more sentimental mood, he takes you out on a ride. he settles you on the back of his horse, speeding off into the sunset, letting you enjoy the view outside of town.

the beautiful freedom that comes with the life of an outlaw. the freedom of seeing nature in all its glory. you get to experience it all.

at times, when you’re out and about, he takes his chance and teaches you how to handle a gun. toji knows you’ve been spoiled rotten by your parents growing up, so you probably haven’t touched a gun a day in your life. that’s where he comes in.

“oi, watch out. yer gonna blow my fuckin’ face off, girl,” toji grunts with a faint chuckle as he notices your clumsy hand gestures while holding his revolver. it’s endearing, truly. he doesn’t yet understand why it warms his heart to see you try and shoot at the targets he set up.

what the outlaw loves more than that, is when you’re both resting against a large oak tree, with his head on your lap. especially after he gets back from a long and successful heist in a far away town.

toji often lets his cowboy hat cover his face while he naps and uses your thighs as the perfect, plush pillow. the gentle breeze only adds to the perfect moment.

when you take his stetson and put it on your head instead in a innocent gesture, he lazily opens one eye and raises a brow in amusement.

“oh? that yer way of telling me y’ want a ride?” toji teases before pinching your cheek. he loves seeing that flustered expression on your face when you’re once again reminded of the cowboy hat rule he taught you the other day.

toji never misses the opportunity, however. he sits up and leans back against the tree trunk, patting his thick thighs which he spreads lightly.

“hop on f’ me then, pretty. show me how good of a cowgirl y’ are, yeah?”

well, briefly said, it’s never a dull moment with outlaw!toji.

[parfaitblogs]

state of grace ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your cat has taken liking to your friend with benefits, and you begin to battle with the consequential feelings. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff (18+ for suggestive content) tags: established friends with benefits. reader has a cat. your cat likes him more than you :(  avoidant!reader for like a teensie second. it's okay happy ending. the happiest possible ending actually. fade to black. word count: 1.9k a/n: sometimes the most beautiful poetry can be about simple things. like a cat. :) im a dog person. idk why i wrote this.

Seventeen times.

That is how many times Spencer Reid had found residence at your apartment in the past month alone, taking up the space on the other side of your bed. Thirteen of those times he had stayed the night. Six of those times, he had come for sex. The other eleven? He had come because you needed a friend. 

Or, rather, your cat did. 

You had discovered you weren't any more complex than your average man, at the end of the day. Human beings are at their core created to love and be loved, and by extension, to want and be wanted. You wanted Spencer, and you were wanted by Spencer. For both your friendship, and the intimacy your relationship provided. 

But you did not love him, and he did not love you. 

Cat's are anything but fickle creatures. A lot of your best friendships were centred around whether or not your cat developed a liking to the person or not. Oftentimes, your fleeting relationships came down to the odd sixth sense the animal had for disliking the worst people. That, and your one night stands were never a crowd favourite within the walls of your apartment. And yet; Spencer Reid. 

He was nothing short of charming. In a sort of dorky way, yes. But whatever socially romantic skills he lacked, he most certainly made up for by giving you the best of just about everything in bed. A small part of you wants to claim it's human instinct to know how to worship the person meant for you, but the logical reason is probably his eidetic memory knowing exactly what he's doing after a singular trial run. Entertaining the thought of being his soulmate was not a wise choice.

He most certainly was your cat's, though. The Ragdoll always jumping down to greet him the second he stepped foot in your apartment, usually resulting in the break of a kiss and a five minute intermission before the two of you could do anything. 

At first, it was an inconvenience. Your cat had never taken such a liking to a person you'd brought home before, and it was jarring to watch a man you were partially trying to undress, stop everything to pet your cat. Now, it is simply endearing. You've stopped trying to steal Spencer's attention before the cat does, and you've come to the conclusion that Spencer's priority list will always be the feline, then you. 

Today was, seemingly, no different. Despite the dull ache between your legs and the fact that this visit had started as something as obscene as Spencer calling from his work bathroom to ask if he could come over after for he was, and you quote, in dire need to touch you (among many other things), whatever those needs were, were put on hold. 

You smile regardless, leaning against the edge of your couch as he crouches down to meet Po — yes, like the panda — his hand immediately reaching out for the cat to run his head along. 

Spencer's head lifts to look at you. "Morgan thinks Po isn't a real cat, and we've just got a name for your—um—" his brain catches up to his mouth mid sentence, and he's stammering his way to silence. 

"Please tell me you defended my cat's honour," you retort.

"I did! I even showed him the photo I took of him while you were in the shower last week. He thinks it's a different person's cat."

You shake your head in disapproval. "Unbelievable. Your coworker thinks we've named my pussy."

"That's just Morgan."

"I wish Po could speak English. Then he could hear this nonsense, and stop loving you more than me," you grumble, and Spencer's lips twitch up into a smile, as he situates himself on the floor, the cat climbing into his lap.

"Actually, he technically can. Cat's can understand up to thirty-five words in whatever language you train them in. Also, when they meow, they begin trying to mimic the sound of certain human words. It's their vocal tract that prevents them from literally speaking English," he explains.

But, you're too invested in the way his long fingers are delicately running through the cat's hair, to both respond, and really pay any attention at all.

You had had fleeting thoughts about real feelings for Spencer two months ago. Brushing them off as loneliness and your need to satiate the hopeless romantic within you, you'd forgotten about it up until this recent week.

He'd been over every single day, sometimes for sex, oftentimes for a movie and dinner (which was usually a bowl of pasta you had overestimated while cooking). And every single time, you'd developed an overwhelming anxious pit in your stomach when watching him interact with Po, your heart fluttering the entire time, mind running rampant on domestic thoughts you should be squashing. 

Should be, but weren't. 

You'd tried to put it down to the motherly instinct you had over the animal. Seeing somebody else treat him with as much love and care as you did was endearing — it wasn't a Spencer Reid specific trait. Yet, here you were. 

"I feel like the benefits of this relationship have changed," you say, seating yourself in front of Spencer on the floor, Po lifting his head to look at the person behind the sudden movement, before he let it rest back on Spencer's thigh. 

"To what?"

"My cat," you huff, and Spencer laughs.

"He is my favourite benefit thus far," he muses. 

"The feeling is definitely mutual," you nod your head to Po, whose eyes were now shut, seemingly quite comfortable disregarding all your personal plans and taking Spencer's attention.

"Animals don't usually like me," he comments. "I don't know why Po is different."

Oh, you had a few ideas why.

"Maybe he's exercising the keep your enemies closer life motto," you offer, and Spencer's eyebrows shoot up in faux offence. 

"This is unadulterated love," he protests. "He does not think of me as an enemy."

"That's what he wants you to believe," you hum, pushing yourself up on your legs. "Well, since plans have been rudely interrupted, do you want some dinner?" 

"Sure," he answers, though his attention is back on Po. Clearly so, for he says, "I'll get to our original plans after we eat, don't worry," almost absentmindedly.

It's the kind of thing that makes you forget you're in the room with the dictionary definition of a nerd. You know it's only because sometimes he says what he is thinking without thinking. It doesn't do anything to help the ongoing internal battle about your feelings for him. 

Or maybe he does know exactly what he's doing.

"You should get a cat," you say, heading into your kitchen to find something for the two of you to eat. "You seem to like them enough."

"Why? I have yours."

"I'm not going to be around forever," you reply, unthinking. "I mean, one day we're gonna have to end this because the other has found someone they want to be with. Properly. It wouldn't be fair to keep a friendship."

He falls silent, and when you lift your head, you see he's staring at you with an almost confused frown on his face, which triggers your own confusion to appear. His scratching of Po's head has been interrupted, and you're starting to question what was wrong about what you had said. 

Sure, you're pretty sure you have feelings for him, but as far as you knew, they were one sided. Right?

"I didn't—I thought—" he cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, then continues. "I thought that had changed this past month."

"What do you mean?"

"I just—I've been here for things other than sex a lot. I thought you knew I liked you, and you were subtly trying to tell me you liked me too. I'm starting to sense I misread that."

For a profiler, he was incredibly awful at reading you. 

"Yeah..." You slowly nod your head, but it's the deepening of his frown that has you rushing to add, "I mean, I—I do. Like you. I'm kind of embarrassed that was obvious. But I didn't think you liked me outside of having sex with me. I wasn't trying to communicate my feelings. I was trying to hide them."

"Oh," he falls silent again. "So the times I’ve been here in the past month weren’t makeshift dates?"

"They weren't intended that way..." you trail off. "Did you see them as dates?"

"Kind of, I guess," he's back to running his fingers through Po's fur, just to keep his anxious hands busy. "They don't have to be, if you don't want them to. I just thought this feeling was mutual and we were... I guess, dating."

"The feeling is mutual," you quickly correct him. "I know that now. I didn't think we were dating because I didn't think you liked me back. Changing our relationship kind of needs to be a conversation."

"Right," he breathes out, an awkward smile painting his lips. "Is this the conversation, then?"

"I guess?"

"So now we're dating."

"If that's what you want," you nod, head feeling a little fuzzy.

"Is it what you want?" he presses. Always the gentleman.

"Maybe," you muse, leaning forwards against the kitchen countertop. 

He's watching you, and for a second you let the silence fall over you, fearful that you've just discouraged him enough to ruin things between you. He carefully takes Po off his lap, the cat running into your room the second his paws hit the hardwood floor, and he's standing up to move over to you. 

"I don't like maybe," he frowns. "Yes or no?"

You blink, realising he was evidently too anxious of your genuine response to have any recognition to your poor attempt of a joke. 

"Yes, Spencer. That's what I want," you're breathless as you speak, and you're thankful for the relieved smile that stretches across his lips.

"That's what I want too," he answers. 

"Yeah, I figured." Your second attempt at a tease lands, and he huffs a small laugh, which warms your heart. "Do you still want dinner?"

He had somehow gotten closer to you throughout the awkward enough conversation, and he was sliding his arms around your waist. Something he had done many times before, yes, and yet this time it was feeling much more intimate, and your heart was thrumming against your chest a little harder than usual. 

"Maybe it can wait?" he offers, ducking his head down, lips ghosting over your own. "I don't have a bothersome cat keeping me preoccupied from you, now."

Despite yourself, you poke a finger into his chest and say, "Don't insult Po."

"I'm not. Just merely stating an obvious fact."

"I'll call him back in here to preoccupy me."

"He has selective hearing. And he likes me more than you."

Your lips drop into a frown, lower lip jutting out, and Spencer is quick to try and kiss it off within seconds of noticing it. 

"I'm sorry. That was mean. I promise he doesn't like me more than you," he says, though his voice is too amused to be entirely sincere. 

"That was mean," you agree with a firm nod. "You're very mean to me, Spencer Reid."

"I know, I'm awful. Can I make it up to you, sweet girl?"

Well, when he asks you like that.

"Mm..." you hesitate, but he's already guiding you around, walking you backwards, through your apartment and towards your bedroom. "Yeah, I guess so."

Hands that were around your waist hike your shirt up, his lips still kissing against your skin despite the intense multitasking he was forcing upon the two of you.

"Thank you."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[awrkive]

Wer is grumpy jk! We badly need it 😫😭

summary: you and jungkook are getting closer, moving forward – but to where, exactly? what does that entail for your relationship? 

w/c: 3.3k

note: this is for all the girlies who asked for part 2 for this drabble. nothing but fluff in here ): ive been thinking abt college jk lately and i lowkey like this grumpy!jk guy… basically this takes place two months after the first drabble u may read this amm for grumpy!jk for a brief bg on what their relationship has become before u go read this parr. anyway the ending is a bit diabolical and im saying sorry in advance

also pls listen to come here by kath bloom, its literally so them 😮‍💨😖

It’s almost natural the way Jungkook immediately slings his backpack on one shoulder, heads straight out of the lecture hall, and starts the almost ten-minute walk from his department building to yours the moment his last class for the day was dismissed. 

He waits outside by the hallway along the lecture room, scrolling through his phone mindlessly, knowing that any minute now you’ll be coming out of the door. 

And just as a slew of students’ chattering becomes louder, their heavy footsteps coming out from the hall, Jungkook instantly spots you; talking to a friend animatedly – Joy, maybe? – before you look to the other side and finally see him. 

“Jungkook!” You exclaim with excitement, smiling up at him and even doing a little wave. Jungkook watches as you turn to your friend. “Sorry, I gotta go. Zoom meeting at five, right?” He hears you say before she nods, bidding your goodbyes to each other before she goes in the opposite direction while you saunter towards him with that usual dashing grin on your face. 

Jungkook meets you halfway, lips curling up slightly at your enthusiastic greeting. Even more so when you don’t fight off the way he goes for your tote bag, taking it off your shoulder and wearing it on his own, the weight not adding that much to his own bag perched on his back. 

He remembers the first time he tried to do it (awkwardly, might he add), and you vehemently refused. But Jungkook can be persistent sometimes when he wants to, and eventually you gave up trying to resist.

Currently, as you walk along the hallway out of your building, standing close together, Jungkook tries not to think too much about how easy this feels. Like it’s normal the way you immediately interlock your arm around his own, skipping a little bit upon your walk as you begin speaking.

“You really did cut your hair.” You marvel at him when he looks down at you. And he can’t help it; the blood rushing to his cheeks and certainly on his ears. 

“I sent you a picture.” He simply says. It was yesterday. He originally went to his barber for just a trim but he remembers you saying something about a particular actor’s haircut… and look, it’s not like he was trying to look like that man but it may have influenced the decision a little bit… 

Anyway, he thinks it looks okay on him. He trusts his barber and Hoseok said it suits him. From your response, you also said it looks nice. 

And you tell him so. “I like it! You look so good. Especially with this frame!” You point to his eyeglasses, smiling up at him. “I was thinking you were just sending me a random picture last night.” 

Jungkook chuckles. “I wasn't, and uh, thank you.”

“You're welcome. Anyway,” you say, “Did you wait for long earlier? Sorry ‘bout that. Prof. Shin had to extend a little bit ‘cause there were a lot of questions about our new project.” 

“You have a new project?”

“Yeah, but nothing really heavy. Just a hotel lobby interior design. We got a week and it’s a paired task thing, that’s why you saw me with Joy earlier—”

He sees a flock of students ahead huddling by your side of the pathwalk, and because you have a tendency to not really pay that much attention to your surroundings, he takes you by the waist slightly to avoid bumping with them, causing you to stumble closer to him. 

You crane your neck to look behind you for a moment, gaze falling back up to Jungkook with widened eyes. “Sorry.” you say with a jutted lip and a little frown. 

“It’s okay.” Jungkook says with a reassuring smile. He means it. He likes being close like this and if you don’t watch your surroundings, he’ll just do it for you. He doesn’t mind. 

You grin. “Anyway… I was saying, it’s a hotel interior. But! The thing is, it’s a themed hotel, which I’m really excited about ‘cause I’m tired of designing contemporary, luxury ones. They always tend to be so redundant.” 

Jungkook nods. “I think so too. What’s the themed hotel about?” 

“Have you heard of a film called Metropolis?” He shakes his head. You nod at that. “Well, yeah, me neither. At least a week ago. Prof gave it to us as an assignment and it’s a silent film from the ‘20s. A sci-fi tale, so very futuristic – at least for that time. So that’s the theme of the hotel, right, and Joy and I immediately thought of art deco.” 

Jungkook intently listens as you go on about your initial ideas, and he doesn’t even have to worry about the terms he doesn’t understand because you always take time to explain it to him in layman’s. It’s funny, really, because ever since he’s learned that you study interior design and started to talk to him about it, he found himself taking interest in it as well. Two months ago, he couldn't have given a single care about a couple named Charles and Ray Eames and their weird chair called La Chaise, but here he is, anyway.

Maybe it’s because of the way you so passionately talk about it. Your zeal oozes out so much when it comes up as the topic of conversation, and there’s always been something about you that pulls people right in. And Jungkook’s at peace with himself now that he’s just one of those people. 

He’s willing to be pulled right in, anyway. You don’t exactly make it hard to. 

And Jungkook finds that the newfound dynamic between you two isn’t… so bad. He finds excitement at the prospect of seeing you after his classes are concluded, going to Fro-yo for a quick snack because you’re obsessed with it, and studying together at his place later in the day.

A lot of people would say he’s making up for all the times he’s ignored you. The times when he pretended to not care about you. The times when he was just unprovokedly mean and treated you the way he regrets now. And sure, it may have started that way. Ever since your Environmental Science project was finished and the term was over, Jungkook started to feel like he couldn’t go back to the life where you weren’t within his perimeter. Couldn’t imagine you both being back to – practically – regular strangers, so he just… opened up to you more.

He shares his own stories now. Tells you about his day after you do so, and invites you to Fro-yo and other cafes and restaurants around campus whenever your schedules align. 

And maybe at first it was, indeed, because he was trying to make up for his past behavior – but that may have only been what he convinced himself of for the first few weeks. When the week stretched into months and the months suddenly involved you doing sleepovers at his place whenever his roommate, Hoseok, is not around, Jungkook is starting to question himself if this is all still about simply making it up to you. 

Because frankly, he’s starting to feel like it's a little more than that.

He’s not just buying you frozen yogurt and helping you with any assignment (that requires his silly and minuscule math and science expertise) and letting you borrow and keep his hoodies and shirts whenever you sleep over because he’s trying to make up for the past – he’s doing all of these because he genuinely enjoys your company and would like to do more for you… with you… to you… and just… just more. 

He wants more with you. 

And every single day is a daunting battle for his internal mullings. 

Because he knows he’s been stupid all this time not to realize right away that he’s got romantic feelings for you. That his confusion when it comes to you didn't come from the reason that you were extremely extroverted and had way too much energy – it was that those things made him like you and his little heart and brain couldn’t comprehend any of it the way he can easily wrap his head around math equations and concepts.

But he keeps himself on the sidelines. Thinks about keeping himself there until he’s sure of what you truly think about. 

You’re always nice to him. But you’re kind of nice to everybody… so that gets him a little twisted.

On Monday, when you were supposed to hang out – when you usually sleep over at his place, you bailed on him to study with Jae, as per Taehyung's words, your mutual friend.

He just can’t tell if the way you treat him is different to the way you treat everyone else, and that’s what’s been on his mind lately. 

“Oh, Kookie,” you say as soon as Jungkook takes out his keys, going for his keyfob when you arrive at the parking area. He looks at you in question, completely ignoring the way his heart flutters a little at the nickname. He kind of hates it, thinks it's too childish when other people call him that – but with you it sounds so much like an endearment, so he doesn't protest. You press your lips into a thin line before you say, “I can’t go to Fro-yo today. Joy and I agreed to have a zoom meeting later to start conceptualizing.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook blinks. “Rain check?” 

You pout. “Yeah.” 

“You can do it at my place? Hoseok’s doing an all-nighter with his study group, so he won’t be there ‘til the morning.”

“But I didn’t bring my laptop today.”

With furrowed brows, Jungkook steps closer to you. “It’s alright. We can drive to your place, get your laptop then go to mine,” he smiles. “Sleepover?” 

Jungkook doesn’t want to toot his own horn but he may have seen your face light up at that. But it comes off easily and he begins to worry.

“I want to, but I don’t want to impose.” You say. 

Instantly, Jungkook’s forehead creases. “You won’t be imposing.” When he sees that you’re about to decline again, he lets out a, “Please?” 

At that, you stop. You stare at him for a moment. 

“Uh…” you trail off. “You sure? Are you not busy tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll probably start on an assignment so we can be both busy–” you nudge his arm at that, laughing. “– but other than that, no. I’ll cook us something. Or do you want to get take-out instead?” 

“I’d really, really appreciate your black bean noodles tonight.” You muse, looking at him like he holds the stars in the sky. With you gazing up at him like that, how can he say no?

“I think we have the ingredients in the fridge. Black bean noodles it is, then.” Jungkook says before you’re muffling your own squeal in your excitement, saying your little delighted “thank you” when Jungkook ushers you in the passenger seat after opening it for you. 

He rounds the car before he settles on his side, and when he starts the engine, he can’t help but smile slightly at the way you lean comfortably on your seat, as if you’re so used to being in his car – which you are.

And Jungkook finds he likes that. He likes you that way; being used to being around him. 

“You’re done?” Jungkook looks up from his computer, seeing you doing some arm stretches and leaning into his gaming chair to do it on your neck as well. 

“Yep.” 

“Then come here already.” He shuts his laptop close, places it on the bedside table, and pats the space on the mattress next to him. 

It’s nearly 10pm and your zoom meeting with Joy went for nearly 4 hours. You got on it immediately after you two ate your dinner, and like clockwork, asked to borrow one of Jungkook’s shirts because your top was getting a little too uncomfortable on your body. You’ve both already showered – separately, of course – and that’s one of the many things that Jungkook smiles about when he enters his bathroom sometimes. Because the fact that you shower in his bathroom means your essentials are slowly making a space for themselves in his own place; the yellow cup holder of your toothbrush sits next to his blue one, and a bottle of your moisturizer is also in his lavatory cabinet. 

“‘M so tired” You let yourself fall on the mattress, bouncing a little on it face down, sprawling across the bed like some starfish, your other hand landing on Jungkook’s abdomen. 

“Meeting went well?” Jungkook asks, and he’s a little disappointed when you remove an arm on him, but that’s okay, because soon you’re leaning sidewards to properly look at him and it makes him smile to see you so cozy like this. Barefaced and in his shirt. 

“Yeah, we got some work done,” You say. Jungkook watches as you try to get comfortable on your side of the bed. “I think I’m sleepy now.” 

“Yeah?” He follows after you, and he doesn’t hide his huge smile when you go and turn your back to him immediately after he slides his arm under your neck, spooning you from behind. Snuggling closer to him, Jungkook wraps his other arm around your waist and lets out a contented sigh against the back of your head. “My first class is at one thirty pm tomorrow.” 

“I have one at eight am. Then the next one is at ten.” 

“Tough.” 

“I know… I wish I didn’t enlist in morning classes.” 

He chuckles, closing his eyes as he starts to feel that familiar lull of sleep dancing behind his eyes. But truth be told, he doesn’t want to give into that just yet.

“You were with Jae on Monday?” He asks, carefully treading through the subject. It’s Thursday now. It's not like Jungkook’s a jealous guy… it just kind of threw him off a little, because you didn’t tell him you were with Jae. 

“Uh… yeah?” Jungkook feels you freezing in his arms. “How’d you know?” 

“Taehyung told me.” 

“Oh.” He can practically hear the wince. “He has such a big mouth.” You say drily. 

That earns you a laugh from Jungkook. But he decides to take down the jokes for a more honest and open conversation with you tonight. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s not accusatory. It’s soft and gentle, the way he asks it, with his thumb rubbing the exposed skin of your hip due to the hem of your – his – shirt riding up. 

Your answer takes awhile. 

“I was… getting help with estimates.” 

“... Okay,” Jungkook tightens his hold around you, growing confused. “But I’m really good with estimates. I could’ve helped you.” It was easy math for him. And you never shied away from asking him for help before… why now?

“Well, he offered.” 

Jungkook’s brows crease deeper. “That’s not…" he trails off, then continues, "You know you can ask me for anything, right? Jae’s not even on the dean's list. How’d you know he’s teaching you the right stuff?”  

Silence hangs in the air before Jungkook hears your laughter. Shuffling in his arms, Jungkook loosens his hold around you to let you turn to him. When he sees your face, there's a huge grin on it.

“He’s not even on the dean’s list?” You sound intrigued.

Jungkook assumed you were curiously speaking, and so he nods, looking into your eyes seriously. “He isn’t. Look, I’m not saying–” when he notices your smile only getting wider by the second, he realizes you’re just trying to fuck with him, so Jungkook cuts himself off, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I sound like an asshole.”

You scoot closer until both the front of your bodies are stuck. Jungkook tries not to think too much whether you’re wearing a bra underneath his shirt or not. 

You shake your head. “Not really. I believe you’re way smarter than him.” 

“Then why come to him and not me?” 

You stare at him for a moment, then you let out a heavy breath. “I just feel like you’re doing so many things for me nowadays. You were also really busy on Monday– don’t deny it–” you say before he opens his mouth to oppose that. He shuts his lips close, listening to you go on instead. “– and I was just being considerate. Jae offered because we saw and sat next to each other at the library, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

Jungkook blinks, processing your words. After a pregnant pause, he slowly nods, still dumbstruck. 

“Ah… okay. I understand.” he says, embarrassment slowly filling his system. 

You smile at him. Playfully. “Sorry for asking help from someone who’s not on the dean’s list.” Jungkook drops his expression into a poker face at that, which makes you laugh even more. You nibble on your bottom lip before you stretch your hand to his cheek and pinch it. He doesn’t bother dodging your hand. With a giggle, you say, “Sorry, sorry. That was just so funny. You’re so funny without even trying sometimes, you know?” 

“Not really.” Jungkook says and you can tell the tell-tale signs of his grumpiness starting to kick in.

What he doesn’t expect is the way you suddenly squeal and launch yourself on top of him, causing him to lie fully on his back with you sprawled all over his body, hugging him tight and burying your face in his chest. 

“You’re so cuddly and warm. Can we stay like this for awhile?” You break away from his chest and look at him from a low angle. 

Jungkook meets your gaze. 

Sure, you’ve been cuddling (platonically) all these past few months – but they never went to this length. And he’s not sure what the difference is, anyway – just that you’re much closer like this and Jungkook can feel everything. Still, that doesn’t deter him from wrapping his arms around your waist, slightly locking you in the position. Quite frankly, he doesn’t even want you to move. 

“Alright.” Is his simple answer. Not like he needed to think about it.

“I’ll sleep now, okay?” But you don’t wait for his response before you lay on his chest again with your cheek pressed on his hoodie.

Because the moment just feels right somehow, Jungkook lets his hand wander on your head. Then slowly, he lets his fingers comb through the strands of your hair, tentatively at first, lest you didn’t want him touching you or something like that – but once he hears a sound akin to a purr coming from you, he continues and finds himself getting comforted by the action as well. 

“The Jae thing really bothered you?” You ask suddenly, not breaking away from the position you’ve assumed on top of his body. But your words are slightly slurred in the haze of sleep.

Jungkook hums. “Yes.” 

“Sorry for not telling you myself.” 

“It’s okay,” Jungkook reassures you. His gaze falls to the ceiling, hand still caressing your hair. The surface is empty, and there’s not really much going on. Meanwhile, in your own bedroom, you have those glow in the dark star stickers pasted on your white ceiling. He’s never slept over there, but he thinks it would be nice to lay under your makeshift galaxy with your homely scent surrounding the two of you. “Are you not gonna ask why I was bothered?” He says after a beat. 

“I was gonna. But I think I know.” You answer, and Jungkook doesn’t expect that one bit.

He stops his ministrations on your hair, and it’s obvious that you’re about to question it when you suddenly peel your face away from his chest again. 

When you do, Jungkook meets your gaze and with a leveled tone, he asks the question he’s been mulling about for the past two months.

“__, what are we?” 

[theactualsunshinechild]

Seeing this post always immediately reminds me of a fun story from early on in my relationship that my partner and I affectionately refer to as

The Can Opener Incident

This was back in my college days. That semester I was living in a dorm that was more like a collection of small apartments on the very fringes of campus territory. My partner had come over to spend the night at my dormroom, and we were going about making some pasta in the little kitchenette. The pasta was already fully cooked and strained when we suddenly encountered a problem:

The canned pasta sauce I had bought was not a pop top, and rummaging around the kitchen for a can opener revealed that I had neglected to bring one.

Not one to settle for miserable, dry pasta on a cozy home date, I ran over to the dorm room next door and asked to borrow a can opener. They're a little startled to find someone knocking on their door at 9 PM, but they let me borrow it with no resistance. Upon bringing it back is when the problems truly began.

You see, all of my life I had used a can opener which you latched to the side of the can and twisted the knob to make the sharp ring cut into the top of the can vertically, parallel to the side of the can. This one looked similar, all the right parts were in the right places, so I gave it a shot... but nothing happened. My partner comes up and tells me I'm using it wrong, and I think to myself "oh, okay, so maybe he's used this kind of can opener before, I'll let him at it," and I hand it off to him.

The can opener my partner has used his whole life is the kind that you latch on to the TOP of the can, so instead of holding the handle at the side, you're holding it horizontally over the top of the can. I didn't know that kind of can opener even existed, so when he tried using this one his way, I looked at him like he was insane. This look quickly intensified as this method also didn't work. Things rapidly went downhill from there. He defensively explained the way his can opener at home worked, and I started pointing to the structure of the can opener and arguing why this one wouldn't work that way. We're a little frustrated, but it's nothing some pasta can't fix, so I propose I simply go over next door to the people who I borrowed the can opener from and ask them how to use it.

As I reached over to take it from him, he held it out of my reach.

"No! I'll figure it out myself!" He announced.

"What? Why? It's easier to just ask the owner," I argue, jumping around trying to get at the items.

"Because I can figure it out!"

Okay. Fine. I guess he wants to solve this like some kind of puzzle for enrichment. I give up and I wait. The fiddling begins. I'm standing there watching him try increasingly improbable methods of getting that thing to work over and over. The pasta is getting cold. He's testing methods that have already proven not to work, trying new methods that physically couldn't work, then trying the ones that have already failed us all over again. My stomach growls.

"We should really just ask," I grumble, hungry and frustrated.

"No, I've got this."

He does not fucking got this. I want my goddamn food and I do not have time for this puzzle solving.

"Give it here."

"No."

"I'm just gonna take it to the owners and ask them to show us how to use it, you can come with."

"No! I want to figure out out myself!!"

"And I want my food god fucking damn it!!"

This went on for a bit. The pasta was drying to the side of the pot and getting crusty. At some point during this yelling match I got so pissed off that I stormed out of my own apartment into the cold with no coat on.

'I need to make him see reason!' I thought to myself, making my way through the snow. One building over was where two of his friends were rooming together. I knock on their door, boiling with rage. It is 10 PM.

"Hey, can you come over? [Partner] is being completely unreasonable and obstinate over figuring out how a can opener we borrowed works and won't let me take it to the owner to ask. Please help me convince him to hand it over, I'm literally too short to wrestle it from him."

"Alright, let me grab my coat."

We head back over to my place to find my partner Still Messing Around with that godforsaken can opener.

"Let me see that for a second," says his friend, taking his coat off. I experienced a moment of relief, thinking to myself, 'Finally!' as my partner pouted for a second, but relinquished the can opener.

This peaceful glorious relief fizzled out into horror as his friend began to try to open the can the same way I had.

"That's weird. It really looks like it should work this way..." he mutters.

"Try it from the top, that's how my parents' works," my partner suggests.

"No no, that won't work, just give me a second to figure it out."

Oh my fucking god.

I stared blankly, watching them study the can opener and turn the can this way and that, both completely absorbed in finding the solution to this hour long problem. I was going to lose my fucking mind. Perhaps in that moment I really did. Shellshocked, I stood, wondering how it had come to this. I just wanted some fucking pasta and a relaxed night in, and instead I've gotten these goddamn STEM majors milling around in my kitchen at 10:25 PM arguing over how to use a can opener that isn't even mine. So I went and did what, in retrospect, I should have done ages ago: I went next door for help.

I can't imagine what my neighbor must have thought of me, showing up over an hour after borrowing their can opener, looking as if something inside of me had died, and, with a hint of desperation in my eyes, begging them tearfully to come next door and show us all how to use their can opener. Over an hour after borrowing it.

Well, whatever they thought of it all, they did oblige my pleas. Their arrival thankfully broke up the debate, and as all three of us watched intently as hawks over their shoulder, they cracked open that can of pasta for us.

Using it the exact same way I had tried at the start of it all.

It was just dull.

"I don't need a shopping list; with effort, I will remember that I need this item"

Okay but will you be able to remember that you already bought it? Because apparently I can't.

[bunnys-kisses]

viva las vegas

max verstappen - team principal au

tags: smut/pwp, team principal au, tp!max, driver!reader, age gap (20s/40s), massages, vaginal fingering, intimacy & affection, doggy style

a/n: happy las vegas gp weekend!

max remembered vegas not-so kindly. or rather he remembered the hangovers of las vegas not-so kindly. it was where things heated up depending on a driver's standing. for many years max simply smiled and waved through another race, he always kept a heavy margin between him and other drivers in the points department.

plus he had to give it to the americans, they really knew how to make their races quite the spectacle. and las vegas was no different than miami at the start of the season and austin only a little while earlier. even now as a team principal, he enjoyed the occasional cigarette on a balcony of a hotel room. except this year his head was flooded with less technical information and more the sight of his beloved star driver.

you.

you huffed with your arms crossed after media day. you wore a pout so prettily, it was real princess behavior. and where you were standing right now, you were on your rightful throne at the top of the leader board.

"i don't get why we have to do these last three races. i have this in the bag, i am over a hundred points ahead of the next driver." you pointed in a general direction as you complained to your boss, "this is stupid, give me the wdc and we can all go home."

you were tired. of course you were, he was tired too. the entire team was tired. hell, everyone from top to bottom was tired.

max put his hands on his hips. he tilted his head to the side and exhaled, "treasure." he was a little sympathetic. he remembered being ragged by mid-october, the fact you were only falling apart at the last few races was impressive, "i know, it feels like the victory is being dragged on. that we are just wasting time." he reached out for you and cupped your face with such affection, "but, think about how much you could make that margin grow.' he had both hands on your face. you were in private so he could be a little closer.

you looked up at him with such sad eyes, "it feels anti-climatic."

max smiled, "that's the price you pay you when you're just leagues ahead of them. if you don't race for the points this weekend. then race for home, race for your family... and race for me." his smile grew, "i want to watch the shock on mclaren's face when they see what they missed out on." he chuckled lightly, "the offers you would get from everyone."

you said, "don't think i'm trying to leave verstappen racing." you pouted a little more.

max felt something tug in his chest but he kept his smile, it was endearing to hear those words. that you weren't going to up and leave him. even if your contract was three years, teams had lawyers to the teeth that could easily wrangle you into their grasp. but you had no interest in that. he kissed your forehead, "how about you come to my hotel room tonight, i'll help you relax. make the weekend a little more fun."

it wasn't burdensome to go to max's room. it was often right beside yours. even if the rest of the team were on the other side of the floor. you nodded and let max kiss you in the privacy of the little corner you found yourself in.

max watched you walk through his hotel room, in nothing but an over-sized garishly pink dolly parton shirt. you were bent over at the bar fridge to take a healthy shot of gin and let the shiver run through you. he chuckled into his drink and said, "let's get you a glass for that, treasure." before he got up from the couch, "oh better yet, let's take it easy on the alcohol. you're driving tomorrow." then crossed the room to take the bottle from your hand. he dipped his nose into the back of your neck and said, "how about we find other ways to relax tonight. something that won't kill you come morning"

you looked over at him and frowned, "i could not race tomorrow and i'd still win it all" and leaned into max's touch as he took you by the chin. you turned to look at him fully and crossed your arms.

"i know, being on top does get boring. but why don't i help. after all, that is my job." he held you in his arms and admired you the way someone would admire a beautiful piece of art. you were inclined to melt into his touch. uncrossed your arms and hugged him when your head against his chest.

"i wish there was more a chase for this victory." you huffed. the perfect driver, the perfect car, the perfect team and the perfect boss. it was all to easy.

he chuckled and kissed you, "please, don't get hung up on that. think about what it would mean to have a woman have such a clear victory." he held you, "no splitting hairs with your victory. think about what you could do." he smiled at you.

you held onto the front of his t-shirt and sighed, "i know, i know. first woman and all, but... i wish there was more of a fight."

max smiled, he knew the feeling well as he tenderly held you. he kissed your forehead lovingly before he said, "why don't we forget about that. and no more alcohol." then led you to the grand bedroom of the room. he sat on the bed and admired you.

in the over sized shirt and cotton panties. nothing special, but max ate up every last bit of it. the idea that he got the see you like this. he knew that men thirsted over you. fans that couldn't get it through their head that you'd never be with them.

you were just voted the more eligible bachelor(ette) of formula one. max got a kick out of seeing that when he read in on the way to the track. single, huh? that was news to him. not while you were tangled up in max's love like a spiderweb.

"do you want it off, sir?" you asked as you played with the hem. he had to admit, but up close, he sort of liked the t-shirt. the pink looked good on you. but he liked what was under it even more. men could thirst all they want, but none of them could have you.

not while max was still breathing. he pressed his face up against your middle, he sighed, "yeah, take it off. i want to see everything." everything that belongs to me. the unspoken words. he helped you get the shirt off.

he admired your body, dressed in cotton panties and a sports bra with thick straps. he licked his lips as he went back to kissing your stomach before you ended up on the bed next to him. you helped him out of his clothes just as he did for you. his lips found your heated skin and you arched your back a little at the feeling. it excited you.

"please, sir." you said as his large hands roamed your body, it left you feeling excited all over and touched you. you felt like heaven under his palms you moaned into another heated kiss and let him touch you as he so desired.

"you're perfect for me." he said as he kissed your neck, "perfect in ways i can't even put words to. you remind me of such beauty that it would be a crime for me to deny myself your warmth." he looked at you with those blue eyes, they read so much as he held you tightly, "that's why i want you to win, win, win. when they doubted you, i never did. and i'll continue to never doubt you. i want them to wipe those grins off their faces and see what you are a threat on the track."

you felt your heart flutter as you said, "oh max." before you pulled him into another hot kiss. when he pulled away, he got you onto your back and admired the strength in your back. he licked his lips and you could feel his hot gaze.

"quite the beauty." he said softly before he started to put those strong hands to work. you moaned into the covers and arched your back when he rubbed the skin. he groaned a little bit, his cock twitched at full attention as he massaged your body, "but you need to relax. i know, i want you at your best. but you can't be so wound up. it'll only make you a worse driver." he leaned into your and whispered in your ears, "i know you want to defeat them, make them whimper." his voice hot against your ear.

you whined, "please, max. sir!" you arched your back a little bit, or at least tried to. but he kept you pinned to the bed and continued to rub at your skin.

"i'd do anything to make you win." he said quietly, "i know you're my champion." he moved down your back and you whimpered when he hit spots that made your eyes roll back a little. you looked cute squirming like that. under him beautifully.'

you gasped when he eventually slipped two fingers inside of your soaked pussy and thrusted them slowly as he held you by the small of your back onto the bed. you gasped and arched your back with sexual want as he fingered you. you buried your face into the covers and whined, "max!"

it was music to his ears, he loved it. he loved you. you didn't know how many rules max had to bend for you. he was painfully committed to you, he adored you in ways that he could never say with words. you whined a little bit as he fingered you and he felt the heat in his belly as he played with your pussy.

"there we go. nice and relaxed, perfect for the upcoming race. i know you'll be a good girl for me. right? you'll race perfectly and then we'll come back to this hotel room with more points under your belt and i'll fuck you right up against the window. let all of las vegas see their weekend's star." his voice was filthy, tinged with a heated want. his cock was painfully hard.

he fingered you for a little while long before he pulled out the digits and licked the wetness off of them. but you weren't going to go without for long, not on max's watch. soon he was behind you, with your hips raised as he sank his cock into you.

the future champion felt good around his cock, beautiful in a way that he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. you felt like heaven as he started to rock his hips against you.

he knew you were the best, you were always the best. almost a perfect season, except for a few hiccups here and there. but, those were all ironed out. now he had big hopes for your future racing. racing with his team. he wanted to see you in the lion logo for years to come. and when your eventual retirement came, you'd be working alongside him as his wife. even carrying his last name couldn't keep you away from the track and max would be a fool to force you away from it (except for maybe nine months). he continued to move against you, he watched your ass bounce from his movements as he fucked you.

"shit, max." you whined. you wanted to win so badly, you wanted to be the world champion. you wanted to stick it in the faces of those who doubted you. other drivers, other teams, even your own father. who would have preferred you married a driver rather than be on. but max saw the future in your eyes, you'd be the world champion. and you believed in max. even when he was fucking you with a feverish pace that left you seeing stars and panting into the covers.

max kissed your back as he moved against you. he felt the heat through his body as he worked his cock inside of you. he felt the swell of affection towards you, he felt the heat course through his body. he needed you deeply, he needed you in ways that he never needed another.

"you're insatiable." you sighed as you felt yourself get fucked further into the bed. you gasped a little deeper into the covers as the two of you moved together. you felt the hammering in your chest.

"you feel amazing. i can't help myself." max groaned as he battered your sweet pussy with an insatiable want. he couldn't help himself, that was the god's honest truth. he yearned for you in deeper ways, he wanted to be connected to you in every way he could.

"please, max. i can't get enough of this. you feel so good, you know how to make me good." you groaned through the heat through your body. you pleasure coursed through your body, this was amazing. it was always amazing to be with him. especially when max combed his fingers through your hair and he continued to move against you with a heated want.

"you feel amazing in return, beautiful. my treasure. something i got out of the rough, shined you to your full potential." he hissed through a tense jaw as he continued to fuck you. you moved against him quickly and it made him gasp for more.

max licked his dry lips. the pleasure coursed through his body, it was a throb in his head as he thrusted up against you. he tensed up for a moment when he felt the heat only grow in his core. he really couldn't help himself. he knew that this wasn't exactly the sanest thing to do, fuck a his driver. but when a figure like yours and a winning streak that left him hot and bothered. it would a crime not to claim you as his. you wore his hickies under your collar and his logo over your heart. you were undeniable. you made racing fun for him.

he kissed you back once more, his pace started to stagger. the heat continued to fuel his body. he could hear your heated pants as you felt close to your orgasm. he held onto you tightly and fucked you through a powerful climax.

"i don't want anyone else." you panted in the heat of pleasure. you tensed up for a moment before you relaxed, your hands curled in the sheets as you muttered curses under your breath in your mother tongue.

max continued his heavy thrusts and came inside of you. he slowed his pace to a stop and kissed your back. he whispered sweet nothings against you before he pulled out slowly. you both laid out beside one another and he pulled you into his grasp.

he kissed your heated cheeks and sighed contently against your skin, "there, ready for the weekend?" he asked.

you pulled away to look at his flushed expression. blissed out from sexual heat, you gave him a small smile as you said, "well, if you keep the orgasms coming. i'll be more than happy to widen the points gap." then yelped when he got you onto your back. his heavy kisses soon trailed down heated skin.

you decided right then and there that you got very lucky in vegas.

-

a few weeks later in abu dhabi, you hoisted your final trophy of the season over your head. you were damn near tears as you claimed another victory. like you did in las vegas, then qatar and finally abu dhabi. max felt tears in his eyes as if he was winning the victory too.

you became the best, just like max promised. his driver, his star, his champion.... his future wife. <3

[timmydraker]

Thinking about Vampire Tim AU and him saving Bruce via turning.

None of the Drakes are actually Vampires, at least not permanently. It was a very strange instance that occurred out of pure chance and coincidence.

A pregnant Janet Drake in a foreign country having a run in with a starving vampire rouge that bite her just a few days before she gave birth.

Instead of the curse spreading to her, the labour of her child pushed and the spreading of lifeform spread to her baby as it was born. The child looked healthy, had no inhuman features, and they assumed her being so sick was simply the fact she was about to give birth.

Tim doesn’t realise what he is for a while purely because his parents are vegan and, until he was seven and had some beef from a classmates lunch, hadn’t had any blood enter his mouth.

Having to teach himself everything, Tim learned to manage both his hunger and abilities as quickly as he could. He studied history and mythos and did several test to figure out the limits to what he needed and could do.

He learnt that he could heal via blood, that he could go without air for days, and that his hearing was normal though his sense of smell was enough to distinguish blood types.

He learn that he could go two weeks without blood before it became a problem, but if he pushed it past three weeks he would start to experience literally decay.

Tim disconcerted his saving grace was that the hunger wasn’t as uncontrollable as people made it out to be in movies and books. At most, it was just like normal human hunger or thirst, and he was aware there was a huge variable in him being raised rather poorly.

He keeps it hidden for years, but then when he’s nineteen Bruce dies.

Not Batman, Bruce.

They got in a car crash of all things, the other drive running after they drove them off the road on the extremely rare instance that Alfred wasn’t driving.

Tim watched the tree branch in his foster father’s chest for several minutes as he thought about his options. Bruce was dead upon impact, gone with only the last wisps of life hanging to him.

Bruce was a father.

Batman was needed.

Even though it would out what he was, Tim forced his several sharp teeth out, all needle sharp and long enough his jaw had to unhinge slightly, and bit into his own wrist. The fangs, an inch long each, dug into his skin painfully before moving to dig into each of Bruce’s wrist and then finally his neck.

Tim smeared the blood into all three wounds and then squeezed as much as he could into Bruce’s mouth.

He had no idea how he knew what to do, trusting the instinct the curse seemed to just… give him.

When Bruce begins to breath again, Clark finally shows up. It’s been a total of eleven minutes and Tim only realises that the other took so long because he had been off planet, yet he is grateful because if he had been there…

Tim instructs Clark on how to cover up the scene, removing the cars and getting Bruce to the cave.

Dick is freaking out, worrying over his brothers ripped clothes and Bruce’s clear injuries, but Tim is quiet.

He takes Bruce’s medical cot and leads them both into a containment cell and then seals it, implementing his own lock as well as one of Bruce’s so no one can open it. He can hear someone banging on the glass a few times but he ignores it to stand over his father’s side and wait for him to wake up.

Naturally, when the older man does he’s panicked and screening Tim’s name.

Tim smiles at him sadly before taking hold of his hand, which Bruce immediately process as wrong.

“Why aren’t I dead?”

Smile growing sadder before fading to an almost formal look, Tim squeezed his hand before pulling away.

“I know you’ve had your suspicions and I thank you for trusting me regardless, but you are right. I’m not human Bruce, and now… you aren’t either.”

He lets the worlds settle for just a moment before continuing, knowing the other will want all the information he can. They’re both so similar in that way.

“I was born a vampire, I will always be a vampire. I will explain that all to you soon, but what you need to know is this: you do not need to drink human blood, you will not loose control over your thirst if you allow me to train you, and yes I had no choice. Gotham needs Batman and I-… I need my father. I will not apologise for my selfishness, but I am sorry you have to be like me.”

Bruce is quiet but he doesn’t move to kick Tim out, nor does he shout at him or cry in betrayal.

He’s surprised, but not more than Tim had ever seen before.

It’s almost an hour of silence between them before Bruce speaks again, “You… you are actually nineteen?”

Tim scoffs and Bruce glares, which makes Tim smile more, “I am. My body will age until around twenty five, at least that’s my hypothesis. If you are turned you stay the age you were, but I was born.”

Bruce nods and after a moment reaches out for his son’s hand.

Another silence before he squeezes it, “Have you told the others about… this change?”

Tim winces, “I tried to keep us separated because I knew you would worry for hurting someone, but I knew Damian would break in if he couldn’t listen so…”

“Ah. Understood.”

Then, in another rare instance that Tim thought he wouldn’t see for at least another few years, Bruce opens his arms to him for a hug.

Naturally, Tim crumbles into his father’s arms and sobs louder than a war drum.

Bruce kisses his head and holds him tight, a vampire embrace.

[kurosagi-h8r]

Hii love your little headcanons so I wanted to ask if you can do "what happens when mc asks the ghouls for dating advice"

I don't think mc would ever realistically ask them that but the reactions would be funny💀

WWWWWW SURE DO~~ But i'm gonna make this into parts because i don't think i'm strong enough i'm too frail to write for all of 'em in one go (no joke my shoulder pain has been killing me). so sorryyy ╯︿╰

Jin

Bold of you to assume he's gonna give you relationship advice when he can't fix his relationship with his papa

tbf he's probably gonna look at you weirdly and uhh remind you that you're his slave and nothing more and that any thought of being in a relationship with other people is forbidden

or ask you a bunch of question that will make you feel ashamed that you don't marry rich (with him as the standard) idk

Tohma

Will actually be a pretty decent guy to go for when it comes to dating advice... I think...

"blablablabla who's the guy? is it someone i know? blablabla I suggest you do this and that blablabla why not use me as an example? It won't do you any harm, no?"

"Will you update me on the progress? I don't want to be nosy, I'm simply looking out for you. Too many potential danger lurking in this place and I want nothing less than to sleep at night knowing that you're safe."

Very much biased but he can manipulate me all he wants and i will give in i won't even think twice about it

Kaito

This loser will start crying on the spot thinking that you found someone else already

"I-I never said I found someone..." and a lightbulb will come out of his head thinking that you were asking him SPECIFICALLY because HE is the one you're crushing on. "I've read somewhere that this is one of the things people do to find out more about their crush... THIS IS IT! THIS IS MY CHANCE!"

And all the advice he's giving you are the things that he wants you do to him

Not even gonna be ashamed about it go for it kaito

Luca

Most earnest in giving dating advice. He genuinely wants to help. He's even honored to be the one you go to for such important decision making.

Even if you do it to find out more about him, he's gonna be oblivious 😭 good luck

Honestly i don't have much words to back him up but personally, deep in my heart, i would go to this guy because i don't believe in myself when it comes to this kind of thing. i will trust you to set me in the right path luca ❤ i'll even trust you to beat up the shitty guy in my stead (lol)

Alan

Look me in the eye and tell me he has any dating experience

Not good with words but will stand behind you few steps away as you do what you want to do. Be it confessing your feelings or setting boundaries with your partner. For support 👍

Whether your partner finds it scary or not it's their problem

Surprisingly good at comforting maybe? If your partner breaks your heart and you don't feel like talking it out he will drive you around to clear your head.

Leo

"You're asking me? Oh my God you must be THAT desperate huh."

GIRL JUST ABORT MISSION ATP WHATEVER YOU'RE STRESSING OUT ABOUT IT'S GONNA GET WORSE IF YOU'RE SEEKING THIS GUY'S ADVI-- *got dragged away*

"Not gonna listen to all that. Why don't we just try making them jealous? You have me and I'm always down for a challenge~"

Ask yourself, which one is worse, making a deal with the devil or Leo?

Sho

Alright listen, depending on how dire the situation is i would want him to pretend to be my bf to make my partner jealous. HE'S PROBABLY GONNA HATE IT but i'm not one to pass up such opportunity /j

biker boyfriend to make your partner jealous??? why the hell not

I can feel him looking at me weirdly "you seriously coming to me for a relationship advice...?"

"How the hell would I know? Get them back with their favorite food? A way to someone's heart is to their stomach or whatever the saying goes." If it's cooking skill you're lacking maybe he can help a little.

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

"That said, both Styles and his therapist have questioned why he cares quite so much about being likeable. This is one of the things he thought about a lot in his big pandemic reflection. In part, it's a choice, he explained. He recalled moving to London after The X Factor and hearing tales of petulant celebrities screaming because someone got their coffee order wrong and deciding to never be that guy, to never give someone a petty reason to bad-mouth him. But more recently he's come to worry that the drive for approval came from a more complex place, a place of caution, fear, control." "Styles said he often spent interviews terrified about saying the wrong thing until he stopped to question what abhorrent belief or bizarre opinion he was scared he'd accidentally reveal and realized he couldn't think of anything."

"And he thought about the cleanliness clauses in the contracts he used to sign, which would dictate that they would be null and void if he did anything supposedly unsavoury, and about how terrified that used to make him. And about when he signed his solo contract and learned that the ability to make music would not be affected by personal transgressions, he burst into tears, a reaction he still seemed shocked by, retelling it to me now, years later. "I felt free," he explained."

"When Styles began therapy about five years ago [so in 2017], he was reluctant initially, feeling it was a music industry cliché. "I thought it meant that you were broken," he said. "I wanted to be the one who could say I didn't need it." He returned to the home theme that has underpinned our conversation, explaining that therapy has allowed him to "open up rooms in himself" that he didn't know existed, allowed him to feel things more honestly, where before he had tended to"emotionally coast.""

"Recently Styles began to work through issues related to intimacy, dating, love. "For a long time, it felt like the only thing that was mine was my sex life. I felt so ashamed about it, ashamed at the idea of people even knowing that I was having sex, let alone who with," he said."

"You look back, especially now there's all the documentaries, like the Britney documentary, and you watch how people were abused in that way, by that system, especially women. You recall articles from not even five years ago, and you're like, I can't even believe that was written."

He has been thinking a lot recently about autonomy, ownership, privacy. About what he should be able to keep to himself, what he should be able to simply communicate through his music without follow-up questions or prying. Around the time of Fine Line, he faced scrutiny around his sexuality. People became incredulous that he wore dresses, waved Pride flags, and yet hadn't clarified with precision, publicly to a journalist or on social media, the specifics of who he'd slept with, how he defined. This expectation is, to him, bizarre, "outdated." "I've been really open with it with my friends, but that's my personal experience; it's mine," he said.

Despite the acceptance that some things could, should, have been different, he still feels lucky every day, he said, lucky to make music, lucky to do what he loves.

"You can't win music. It's not like Formula One," he said. "I was like, in my lifetime, there will be 10 more people who burst onto the scene in that way, and I'm only going to get further away from being the young thing. So, get comfortable with finding something else that makes you happy. I just found that so liberating."

"I just want to make stuff that is right, that is fun, in terms of the process, that I can be proud of for a long time, that my friends can be proud of, that my family can be proud of, that my kids will be proud of one day," he said.

““In lockdown, I started processing a lot of stuff that happened when I was in the band,” he said. He thought about the way he was encouraged to give so much of himself away, “to get people to engage with you, to like you.” He thought about the fact that no baby photos exist of him that aren’t on the internet (you give a bunch to an X Factor producer doing a piece on your backstory without much thought, and suddenly your childhood is online). He thought about the journalists asking questions, when he was still a teenager, about how many people he’d slept with and how, rather than telling them to go away, he would worry about how he could be coy without them leaving the room annoyed. “Why do I feel like I’m the one who has done something wrong?” he said to me.”

— Harry for Better Homes and Gardens Magazine

[catsushinyakajima]

Why Lance is fire and Keith is water

A big mischaracterization of Lance is that he's not a fiery guy, when in fact his personality resembles fire in so many ways. He's hot-headed, far more than Keith, and that's something that's easily missed because Keith is such a reactive guy. Majority of the fights between Keith and Lance are started by Lance. Lance is also quick to always call out bullshit. He's very passionate about what he does and he always has something to say.

Lance has a temper and I think its so crucial to his character and his dynamic with Keith because without it, their relationship becomes a lot more mellow. Most of the time Keith is just standing like an NPC and Lance will get irritated by that and have something to say, hence causing a fight. Lance has the fire, always has, and it simply reflects on Keith.

I'd like to second this point by saying Keith's personality resembles water. Not that he's completely chill and passive, although he can be. But he's extremely turbulent and malleable. If Lance will start a fight he'll match the energy-he'll shape himself into a fighter. Keith has always been moving around from place to place and he's always had to mold himself into what's most suitable for survival, the same way water clings to a glass. He's got a lot of emotional conflicts within him. The fact that Keith's characterization is very similar to water is also alluded to in the fact that Lance is very drawn to both the ocean (water!) and Keith alike. He can't stop pursuing either.

Now I'm not saying that Lance and Keith are opposites when I call them fire and water because I don't think they're opposites at all. Both can grow/spread to great lengths, both carry a storm, and both can also be kind and gentle and necessary to live (ex: a fire provides warmth and water provides sustenance). Water can fuel fire, the same way Keith grows Lance's fire. Fire can also make water steam and boil, the same way Lance makes Keith react. If the water is greater than the fire, the fire will fizzle out; but if the fire is greater than the water, the water will evaporate. They'd have to be on equal levels for this cause-effect relationship to work. And Lance and Keith have always been on equal level (despite any internal insecurities). They always been neck to neck.

Keith and Lance had great characters that could've been explored more. Regardless of if you ship them or not, they had the potential to be very well written foil characters. Unfortunately that didn't happen :(.

[bigbrownboots]

so ever since the quizzes came out and we finally got confirmation on what the hell it is that all the other contra-elementals can do, i’ve been obsessed with the confirmation that.. Lasko is canonically super fucking powerful as a magic user, and specifically as an air elemental. here’s why: (possible tw: mention of asphyxiation as it occurs across the storyline and the Imperium briefly)

in the first video where contras are really brought up - Audio RP | Catching Up and Hanging Out With Your Himbo Friend [M4A] - Huxley uses fire elementals and fire-contras as his main example for how elementals and contras compare: he talks about how fire elementals are great at producing heat, but it takes far more effort for them to be able to take it in, and even when they do, they cannot take in much. that’s something that fire-contras are much better equipped to do, since that’s their specialty.

we already know that specialists will always be the most capable when it comes to performing their specific branch of magic, and for everyone else, that’s something they have to train and build to over time.

Lasko is an air elemental. air elementals are great at controlling air, and again, producing gusts, hurricanes, flurries of wind and such. it is specifically air-contras that specialise in taking large amounts of air in, and thus creating vacuums.

do you see where i’m going with this?

we know from what Lasko revealed about his past that, even completely untrained, he was able to completely take in all the air in a room - which he and his mother were standing in, so, presumably it was one of the main rooms in his childhood home, not just a tiny storage space or a cupboard under the stairs - Lasko managed to take out all the air in that entire room, creating a vacuum strong enough that his mother could not breathe in.

and we know that this wasn’t a one-time fluke due to his powers manifesting, because he’s still capable of performing this ability, seemingly without substancial effort. in his very first audio - Audio RP | Nervous Air Elemental Guidance Councillor Schedules Your Classes [M4A] - Lasko mentions that he “should’ve just negated all the air in the room to douse the flames” when Damien set his papers on fire, but this time decided not to, since he “can’t just suffocate him” (referring to Damien).

also, if we want to bring the Imperium storyline into this, (which i understand that technically, President Moore is a different character, but let’s say that theoretically they would be at similar power-levels - since the only way to improve your magic is by training it, and both characters started from the same parentally-established-magically-restrictive-humanborn place, and spent presumably the same amount of time at the academy) President Moore is able to take all of the air out of a room and create a vacuum able to asphyxiate a person even “through a wall,” “just as simply” (holy fuck). and, in addition to this, Vindemiator blatantly says “you’re strong, Lasko” as he’s pinning him. he has no reason to lie or to inflate (ha ha) Moore’s ego, in fact, Vindemiator is very open with how much he despises Moore, so i’m inclined to believe the powerful demon when he admits to Moore’s magical control.

but, even without considering the Imperium, i think it’s definitely something to think about. even just as an air elemental, Lasko is able to wield air-contra magic like it’s just a part of his natural skillset. Lasko Moore is a fucking powerful magic user.

- i would like to point out now that it’s entirely possible that Mr Redacted didn’t have everything fleshed out from the beginning, and that Lasko’s ability to take in air could have originally been just a part of air elementals’ capabilities, (and then with the inclusion of contras, things got divided and changed) but i think it’s fun to believe and theorise regardless.

in conclusion: holy fuck, Lasky

[stinkrat-aleks]

Only if you want to! but would love to hear your thoughts about telepaths/psionics bias within the in-universe mutant community. I've always liked seeing Erik's particular dilemma explored in fanworks since in the movies we got to see his relationship with different telepaths, but I always like seeing it explored more generally too. so I guess I was wondering if you'd explored/thought about these bits of canon too, and of course, no worries if not!

Hello!! Sorry it took me so long to reply to this, I was thinking my answer over and all the stuff I wanted to say (/overthinker).

I think a LOT about psionphobia (or whatever the term would be called) in-universe. Especially because to me, mutations are symbolic for disabilities and different neurotypes. The term “neurodivergent” describes people whose brain differences affect how their brain works…and to me, that means all telepaths are inherently neurodivergent.

Now I see Charles as autistic, but even if he WASN'T autistic, that means his psychic powers affect the way he perceives social situations, information, etc.

And so, when I see in-universe characters (like XMFC Raven) tell Charles to stay out of their minds—while I understand the desire for privacy—it feels ableist to me. I'd understand if Raven asked Charles to keep out of her more private thoughts, but to keep out of her mind in general feels almost like asking an autistic person to stop stimming when they're around you.

Like, that's just the way Charles is. He probably overhears people's thoughts and feelings at a surface level at all times, without the intention of delving deeper.

This artist does a REALLY pretty comic depicting this and it's 1000% how I headcanon Charles' telepathy now, please go read and reblog the full thing if you haven't already:

Artist: yancant on tumblr

I also think just because Charles CAN intrude on people's innermost secrets, doesn't mean he necessarily WILL. Like, lots of people drive a car. Anyone could technically plow that car into a crowd of people. But most other people assume they won't. So we don't freak out when we see cars. Ya know.

With that logic it feels unfair to assume Charles is going to do bad things with his telepathy simply because he can. ALL humans are capable of bad things! Why is he being singled out for the way he thinks.

Re:Erik, he is the only one who seems to understand this. Him inviting Charles to be in his head (in fanworks but also XMFC) shows that he is not only tolerating Charles' mutation but EMBRACING it. (We all know he has a telepathy kink but that's something different okay.) To use the neurodivergent metaphor, he's telling Charles it's okay to unmask around him.

Like obviously this scene is very emotional for Erik, and Charles is definitely too caught up in his savior complex to take notice of his own emotions, but imagine!! Feeling that welcomed in someone else's mind for the first time!! And them not pushing you out or getting angry for touching a sensitive memory!

I have no idea any of that makes sense or if I'm grasping for straws but that's my overall take on it.

ANYWAYS…so that's my overall take on it. In terms of the soccer AU I'm currently working on..I have other thoughts and some of it will be addressed in futuer chapters (I'm gonna try to upload today). So we'll see. Sorry if this completely didn't answer your question LMFAO.

[animezinglife]

I understand it, too.

I genuinely do find Solas attractive, albeit in a different way. I would love to romance him with a different character someday---I just wish we got Solas for who he truly was from the start of that romance or that the truth had come out earlier. I'm good at avoiding spoilers, and I hadn't known he would betray the Inquisitor, nor had I even known you couldn't romance him as a human. I had actually gone in fully expecting Mira to flirt with him a little (I knew nothing about Cullen's romance at the time and had always heard Solas was the way to go), but that's simply not how their dynamic played out anyway.

I have no doubt his and Lavellan's is an enthralling story in DA:I, and I would at some point like to experience it. I fully understand the appeal. I would fully be there myself with the right character and mindset.

Solas is captivating. He's someone you could talk with for hours on end about the most abstract concepts, but there's always that small sense of him keeping his distance (even before the topic ever comes up). Even I knew there was more he wasn't saying by the way he dodged questions and some of the dialogue between him and other companions. Though for someone who didn't know better, that could've simply meant he was far more powerful than he let on, knew more than he let on, likely older than he seemed, and wanted to protect himself. The whole, "elven god of lies" thing was a bit more of a twist than I'd anticipated. A secret, ancient elf hiding some things I can do, especially if those layers get peeled back over time. I'm less sure about elven Loki.

I think it truly would've been interesting had it gone a bit more in the direction of Children of Fallen Gods/Mother of Death and Dawn (which, some have noticed, draws some considerable parallels to Solavellan in ways that can't be considered coincidence). Without bringing too many spoilers to the forefront of the conversation, there is some...mutual awareness and corruption that occurs between Totally-Not-Solas and Totally-Not-Lavellan. The power dynamic's more balanced and decision making more...comparable to some degree.

(I am not, by the way, blaming Solas or pointing any fingers at anyone regarding their power dynamics in DA:I).

Solas is the guy whose beauty (if you lean that way at all) isn't quite as noticeable until you get into a really deep discussion with him and realize your heart's beating a little too quickly and you're definitely sitting closer to him now than you were before. He draws you in. He piques your curiosity a bit too much.

I truly do not factor in looks at all (within reason---I'm blatantly partial to humans, elves, fae, vampires, etc.) when I play games with romance options. Solas (in theory; I played as a human, which negates the option) would've been every bit as high up on my to-romance list as Cullen. In truth, he was higher just because he was the one I knew so many were obsessed with. Just because Cullen caught my eye faster didn't mean he and my Inquisitor would've been a good match.

But wow, were they.

I easily lean more towards the "Solas-is-attractive" camp in general. Honestly, I love the fact that the romance options in DA:I were so different and unique from each other. Any players who chose to pursue a romance could find one that suited their characters perfectly. I like that there are a range of personalities, dynamics, and looks, and that there's good variety.

For me personally, nothing in that particular game will ever top Cullen's just because it's so incredibly hyper-specific to every little thing I love and value most even in real life. It's perfect for Mira's story; she is, admittedly, a lot like me. I couldn't believe a romance like that even existed in a game (and you already know why/the many layers I'm referring to).

Yet I also know there are plenty who wouldn't like his romance at all and vastly prefer Solas (or someone else in general).

That's the beauty of it, though.

But, yeah..."ugly?" That's not even a word I'd consider for Solas at all.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard | ▶ dev. Bioware

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Thirty-Four

(AO3 counterpart here.)

It was a miserable load to bear, and every step closer to home took increasing effort. Somehow, Fireheart reflected as he stood outside the barrier of camp, he would have preferred staying in the woods where the dogs could find him.

He led Ravenwing through the tunnel and into the clearing, opening onto a sorry sight. Frostfur and her children sat in a circle, ringed around Brightpaw below the meeting stump. Their heads hung low and they whispered to each other, completely unaware of the newcomers. The elders and seers sat together with Bluestar, trying to keep her occupied with conversation while her head roamed aimlessly back and forth. Goldenflower was crouched beside Cloudpaw and Aspenpaw, the pair of apprentices huddled into each other, cheeks pressed together as Aspenpaw trembled miserably and Cloudpaw stared distantly at nothing, his eyes somehow drained of color.

The warrior toms quietly set Ashpaw’s remains down about a body’s length away from Brightpaw, just as Goldenflower noticed them and whispered something to Aspenpaw. Her head shot up and she stared at her brother’s halves for a stunned moment before letting out an incoherent scream of grief and scrambling to her feet, rushing to him.

“Ashpaw!” she cried, circling his head and pawing at him like he was going to wake up fine before collapsing and clawing at her own face and ears. “Oh, I’m so sorry– stars, I’m such an idiot, why didn’t I say anything, this is my fault—”

“Easy,” Fireheart said softly, using a careful paw to pull her claws off her head. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s all my fault!” she wailed. “I should’ve told someone and now– and now he’s dead and Brightpaw’s dying and—”

She broke herself off with an agonized whimper and buried her nose in her paws. Goldenflower caught up to her and started grooming her neck and head, purring soothingly.

Cloudpaw, Fireheart noticed, had not moved. All he had done was slightly turn his head forward. He still had that faded, shaken look in his eyes. Even his fur was perfectly still.

“I’m sorry,” Fireheart said to Aspenpaw. He bumped his head on Goldenflower’s cheek, which she returned, before walking to his nephew. He said nothing, just crouched beside him and mimicked Goldenflower, though he couldn’t bring himself to purr. Cloudpaw said nothing, but he did relax a tiny bit.  

The other search parties returned together some time later, all with gasps and shouts of shock. Fireheart reported his group’s findings to Speckletail without really paying attention to what he was saying. He must’ve made sense, because Speckletail simply nodded unhappily and went to check on the elders and Bluestar.

“Poor things,” Willowpelt murmured, resting a paw on Ashpaw’s neck. She almost wobbled, a bit queasy, before looking at Fireheart. “Where’s Swifttail?”

“Greystripe and Mousefur are looking for him,” he replied dully.

“Mousefur must be in agony right now about Brightpaw.” Teaselfoot shivered, his face deeply troubled. As Darkstripe stalked past him, he added to the older warrior, “I’m sorry about your apprentice, too. I can’t imagine—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Darkstripe said shortly. “He was an idiot; it couldn’t be helped.”

The entire camp went silent and every eye turned to Darkstripe. Cloudpaw’s hairs slowly rose along his back, the first movement since Fireheart had sat with him.

“Excuse me?” Goldenflower growled.

“What?” Darkstripe gave her an incredulous look. “He ran out to fight an entire pack of dogs. That’s the stupidest thing a cat could do. He walked right into his death.”

“How can you talk about your own apprentice like that?!” Cinderpaw shouted, standing up and lashing her tail. “He was your responsibility!”

“It’s not my fault the little idiot got such a dumb idea in his head.” Darkstripe rolled his eyes at the increasingly furious faces around him, unaware that Aspenpaw had gotten up and was moving towards him. “And after his mother died the same way, you’d think—”

He cut himself off with a sharp, high yelp as a delicate grey paw slashed across his face. An impressively-sized spray of blood flung itself to the right and splashed the snow and sand with red. Darkstripe tumbled backwards, a paw clutching at his face and over his left eye as blood seeped out of several deep scratches. Fireheart stood up in alarm, just in time to grab Cloudpaw by the scruff as the apprentice tried to launch himself forward with a snarl. Darkstripe howled in anger and pain, falling onto his haunches and pawing at his wounds.

Aspenpaw stood quietly, shaking with rage down to the tip of her tail. No one shouted at her or got up to pull her away.

“Speckletail!” Darkstripe shrieked, using his uncovered eye to glare at the deputy. “Control your apprentice! She got my eye! I can’t see!”

Speckletail calmly lifted her tail over her back. “And hopefully you won’t be seeing out of that eye for a few days. If you’re going to say such horrible things about the cat you should have been taking care of, you can go to the warrior’s den and stay there for the rest of the night.”

Darkstripe stared at her. “Are you seriously not going to punish—”

“No,” Speckletail said. “I’m not. Go.”

Cloudpaw stopped struggling in Fireheart’s grip, shaking as hard as his sister. With every witness there, Darkstripe had no choice but to obey, storming into the warrior’s den with a hiss. A single bloody footprint from the paw he’d held to his face darkened the snow on the way to the den.

“Absolute slitprick,” Sandstorm growled. “He should be kicked out of camp for that.”

Speckletail sighed. “Unfortunately, being a slitprick isn’t a criminal offense, just a personal one. He’ll have to do worse to earn isolation.”

“I can probably get him to.” Sandstorm’s claws glinted in what dim light was over camp. “Bring him back out here, we’ll have him in the woods alone in a heartbeat.”

“We won’t be doing that,” Speckletail said, with a look in her eye like she very much wanted to. She shook out her fur and approached her apprentice, her voice turning gentle. “You okay, little dove?”

Aspenpaw, still trembling, took in a very deep breath. She copied her mentor’s shake and looked up at her. “I’ll live.”

Speckletail didn’t speak, but she touched her nose to Aspenpaw’s forehead. The apprentice’s fur smoothed out a little.

“Is anyone home?” a familiar voice called through the tunnel.

Immediately, attention turned and Speckletail left her apprentice’s side to hurry to the entrance. “Yes, we’re all back. Is that you, Mousefur?”

A dusky brown head popped into camp with a soft, “Unfortunately.”

She emerged completely, followed by Greystripe. He was lugging a broken black body over his back, the head dangling from an overstretched neck as his own hung morosely.

Cinderpaw and Willowpelt cried out in unison, followed by Lizardtail, rushing to Greystripe and Mousefur as the pair carefully set Swifttail’s corpse down close to Ashpaw’s. His coat was torn here and there, but hardly, like the dogs had been content to snap his neck and leave him to die. The tail was broken as well, right in the middle, and one paw had dark, short fur sticking to its claws.

“He wasn’t far from where we left you,” Greystripe explained sadly to Fireheart and Ravenwing as they approached. “They must have caught him out there. The snow covered up the pawprints, mostly, but we think they headed off towards the Houses.”

Speckletail grit her teeth and sighed, head down for a moment before she looked at Ravenwing. “Do you think he died with the apprentices?”

Ravenwing, to his credit, reacted quickly. His eyes flickered a bit side-to-side as he thought before he answered. “I would hazard a guess that he found the apprentices and the dogs were still there. He might have run to escape them, but they caught him.”

“That would make sense.” Speckletail nodded wearily. “He must not have thought to climb a tree.”

“I don’t know…” Ravenwing pointed to his broken tail. “He might’ve started up one and they dragged him back down. That burnt bark falls off so quickly, he could have slipped on his way up.”

By this time, the Clan was slowly gathering around the different bodies, some whispering something to them, some just touching them and shutting their eyes in prayer.

“Three dead in one night…” Dustpelt murmured with a shiver.

“Brightpaw’s still breathing,” Frostfur said sharply. “She’s alive. She’ll make it.”

“I hope so, too,” Dustpelt said carefully. “It’s just, she’s very battered—”

“She’ll make it,” Frostfur growled.

That was the end of the conversation. Cats now simply went up to Brightpaw’s brothers and expressed sympathy and hopes that she would live before returning to Ashpaw and Swifttail.

Slowly, after the majority of the grievers had stepped away, Bluestar stood up and tottered over to the dead toms. She stared down at them blankly, hardly able to stand straight.

“At least Swifttail died with his name,” Cinderpaw choked, Yellowfang leaning against her on one side and her mother on the other. “But Ashpaw, he’ll never…”

“Fear not for him, girl,” Yellowfang said in a rare soothing tone. “They will name him in StarClan.”

Willowpelt looked over Cinderpaw’s head and blinked at the old cat gratefully, asking, “Can you see if Swifttail’s made it there yet?”

Yellowfang sat up, head turned skyward with her buggy eyes squeezed shut. After a moment, she opened them again and looked back at Willowpelt. “If he is not there now, he will be shortly. His soul does not cling to his body.” Her gaze went to Aspenpaw and Cloudpaw. “Mayhaps he waits for his friend to join him.”

“We…” Cinderpaw swallowed thickly. “We can seek them out in our dreams. Make sure they’re okay.”

Yellowfang rested what little chin she had on her apprentice’s head. “When it is time.”

Lizardtail, with his forehead braced against his apprentice’s shoulder, shuddered. Fireheart couldn’t see his face, but he knew exactly what he was thinking. Not that it was hard to guess.

As Bluestar wobbled enough to scuff the snow with a paw to stay standing, Cinderpaw looked to her. “Well… Brightpaw… in case she– in case she doesn’t make it… can’t we give her a name ourselves?”

Frostfur jolted, but looked up at Bluestar with a mix of hope and dread.

Bluestar gave Cinderpaw a delayed, puzzled expression. “She isn’t old enough to be a warrior.” She turned to Speckletail. “Is she?”

“Er…” Speckletail cleared her throat. “No, but we can make an exception for her…”

Bluestar shook her head slightly. “We can’t do that.”

“Bluestar, she’s dying,” Cinderpaw protested, standing up and nearly knocking Yellowfang away. “She deserves a name. You made Ashpaw an apprentice too early—can’t you make an exception for Brightpaw, too?”

A horribly tense silence fell over camp. Fireheart’s belly was colder than the snow around him.

Bluestar blinked dumbly and shook her head again. “No, no, she must be old enough. We can’t send her into battle like this.”

“We won’t be sending her into battle at all!” Frostfur leaped to her feet, bristling. “Look at her! She’s missing an eye! She’s shredded from nose to tail-tip!”

Bluestar spoke on like Frostfur hadn’t said anything. “She’ll stay an apprentice for now. She needs to finish training before she gets her name. Of course she does.”

The silence again, even worse than before, punctuated by Frostfur’s hissing, harsh breath between clenched teeth. Bluestar ambled past the shocked crowd.

“I will be in my den,” she said, calm and casual. “Speak to me if…”

She left camp alone, walking like she was in a dream. 

Everyone stared at each other, horror and grief and anger swirling through their faces. Even Speckletail looked a little lost.

Eventually, she turned to Frostfur and murmured, “We’ll see how she does tonight. If she starts to… to go, I can take authority and name her.”

Still through gritted teeth, Frostfur growled, “You should have taken that months ago.”

Speckletail did not respond, but her eyes turned mournful. She stepped away and started for the camp entrance, saying, “I’ll make sure she doesn’t wander off.”

The Clan slowly started speaking again, in whispers and mutterings. Not a few angry glances were tossed in the direction of the warrior’s den. Fireheart took the opportunity to approach Yellowfang, who caught sight of him quickly and stood, meeting him halfway.

“Are you alright?” he asked immediately.

Yellowfang gave him narrowed eyes, dry but serious. “I worry more for the girl. Her friend and her brother lay in their own blood tonight.”

“Can…” Fireheart glanced at Frostfur and her family. “Can you see if Brightpaw will survive?”

A small harrumph, but Yellowfang did follow his line of sight, gazing at them a long moment before turning back. “I know that not. But experience tells me she has a chance. Others have survived worse in my time. Lost tails, lost fights when outnumbered…” Her face turned solemn. “Even lost minds.”

A spark of hope lit Fireheart’s chest for just a heartbeat. “Then… is it possible Bluestar will recover?”

That hope died the instant Yellowfang’s expression went in that unusual kind way. Her gravely voice softened to something chalkier. “There is nothing that will fix her, boy. Naught but the journey to StarClan we all take in time. We can only care for her until that day comes.” She hesitated for a moment, only as long as it took to keep Fireheart’s eyes on hers. “You have done all you can, as have the deputy and her nephew. I see you wanting to hope for a miracle. There will be none, and that is not your fault.”

Fireheart resisted the urge to wail, opting to hang his head instead. After a pause, a small, longhaired paw landed on his shoulder, prompting him to look up weakly again.

“Mourn her as you like,” Yellowfang said gently. “But swallow that truth.”

Fireheart said nothing. He just lifted his head again with a wavering sigh.

Yellowfang stayed with him, her eyes now turned to her apprentice. Almost under her breath, she muttered, “She speaks true… perhaps it is time for her to earn her name, too.” She made a rocky noise in her throat. “When it is safe to make that journey.”

Forcing himself to speak, Fireheart asked in a pathetic attempt at a warm voice, “Do you have her suffix picked out already?”

“That I do.” Yellowfang stuck out her jaw. “She’ll be fond of it. If she cares not to change her name entirely, as she did when she was hurt.”

Fireheart nodded unenthusiastically. “Well… whatever name she gets, I’m sure it’ll be great.”

Yellowfang tilted her head at him, scanning his face. For once in his life, he strongly wanted to look away. Whatever she was thinking, she didn’t say it, only went back to watching her apprentice limp over to Brightpaw and her brothers, where Brackenpaw scooted out of the way to let Cinderpaw nose the unconscious apprentice and start quietly praying over her.

Some very bitter part of Fireheart, a small voice, snipped, Like prayer’s going to do anything. If it can’t fix Bluestar, it won’t fix Brightpaw.

Shut up, Fireheart thought back, the briefest flare of anger in his chest at his own mind.

The bitterness went silent, but it clung on to his stomach, churning his guts and making him shrink in on himself a little.

…Just shut up, he thought again.

It didn’t help this time.

[wonder-farm-hc]

Elliott headcanons!!

Just some general headcanons, cw for mentions of homophobia

The post was a bit long, so I ended up putting a "read more" banner, but nothing explicit is mentioned!

Requests are open!

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

❤️ He struggled many years with a speech stutter, but eventually was determined enough to overcome it (he practiced, a lot, in his mirror)

❤️He’s an only child, and up until middle school he was homeschooled. For this reason, he was always a bit more awkward than other kids, never made friends easily

❤️ Although part of why he didn’t make friends easily was because he was always true to himself: he had a fancier style than most, he liked to play piano and write, stuff that many of his peers didn’t find interesting or fascinating. That said, he never tried to fit into the mold, preferring to remain true to himself rather than dulling his lifestyle

❤️ As he lives on the beach, he observes the small creatures such as crabs, starfish and others. He often ends up chatting with Willy over the local sea population, and they’ve become somewhat good friends

❤️ When he arrived in the valley, the first person he bonded with was Leah: they bonded over being artists (although very different ones) and living alone in nature

❤️ They often have debates on art, philosophy, music: they prefer different things, with Elliott being less chaotic than Leah in his art, and tastes as well

❤️ He sometimes stays up until very very late. One time Willy (who was coming back from a night time fishing trip) spotted him awake at night. As Willy noticed the tension in Elliott’s speech and manners, he tried to be there for him, and the best way he could do that was to show him how to light the fireplace, in case he wanted some warth

❤️ He suffers from insomnia, that’s why he was up

❤️ Now, from time to time, Elliott lights it up when he can’t sleep. Not that it helps him sleep, but he find the crackling of the fire to be relaxing

❤️ Elliott and Shane, strangely enough, sometimes do get along. Elliott is one who, ideally, likes to provide for his loved ones and such, and that’s something that Shane understands very well (as he is protective towards Jas).

❤️ Plus, Elliott often spends time in the library, and therefore watches many lessons that Penny gives to Jas and Vincent (sometimes, he even helps Penny, or accompanies home the kids). Getting to know Jas automatically means to hear a lot about Shane, as he’s important to her

❤️ Elliott has refined tastes, that’s for sure, but he’s not squeamish as one may assume: quite the opposite

❤️ He realized he was queer later in life, when he got a crush for a friend of his. To this day, he’s not 100% confident in his queerness

❤️ He came out to Leah, one day while they were in her cabin. He simply whispered “I don’t think I’m straight” during a quiet moment, and she sensed his tension immediately

❤️ She helped him overcome a lot of the internalized homophobia he had (turns out kids joking about your interests being gay does leave a mark, even if you don’t notice it) and, ultimately, he decided to not put a label on himself

❤️ He likes the Hamilton musical, a lot (but it’s a secret)

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

This was fun to write! Although Elliott isn't one of my favorites, he's very cool to write about, and explore as a character in general!

I hope you enjoyed my silly little writing thing :)

[waywardsou2]

The fact that Vander and Silco basically are Jinx and Vi's dads made me die inside

Ok head canon time. When Felicia told Connol about Vi he wasn't looking for a long term relationship and the idea of a baby scared him off so he left her, disappeared in to the bowels of the undercity. So Felicia stayed permanently with Vander and Silco who were living in the back of the bar at the time.

This is why she took Vander (and presuably Silco's) suggestion's for names. (I'm also going to say that Jinx is actually biologically Silco's after a fling)

But when the war broke out Felica fought with Vander against Silco.

I think Silco instigated a war against Piltover despite Vander and Felicia's wishes.

In the end they were on opposite sides and that's when Felicia died. Vander knowing that Silco had started the whole thing saw red and went after him (again which is how we got the fight)

Vi remembered Silco because she was older but Jinx didn't but she still felt some connection to him which is why she latched onto him after the bombing incident.

And then you get the canon.

Also additional head canon I think that Felicia really did love both Silco and Vander equally, she truly thought that they could be poly because she saw the way Silco looked at Vander and knew about Vanders past regarding Silco, but Silco found it more difficult to showcase his feelings whereas Vander was really forward. So the two ended up becoming a thing whilst Silco was left pining in the background for both Felicia and Vander.

Vander did have feelings for Silco but because he had never come to terms with his sexuality he simply called it a brotherly relationship.

So it's a good love triangle heh

I also like the idea that Jinx is actually Silco's. Vi is Connel's but Felicia just says that Vander is her dad. So that the kids could have something stable in their lives

(idk does this even work)

[insanewaykathy]

I think this scene was way out of context for the episode itself and for J/C. I like the scene because I would like any J/C scene, but if you think about it, it seems like he is really uninterested.. But a few minutes ago he was hanging on the couch just to see if she was single and free 🤣 and this scene was more important and more beautiful than this cut scene in my opinion, and I think the writers themselves realized that, and that's why they didn't put it in. But I like to think that Chakotay acted like that because first of all he respected her time, he knew she had just gone through a breakup and yes, there was still that remnant of pain from the initial shock, although she got over Mark very quickly haha. And second, he acted like that because even he wouldn't believe that she wanted him. In my opinion, from Voyager to Prodigy, Chakotay found it almost inconceivable to believe that she had feelings for him… he didn't know how to cross that line. And let's be real, a person who has avoided intimate contact with you simply coming up to you and saying something like that scares you and makes you think a lot of things like "won't this person regret it? Won't they think I'm taking advantage of the situation?". The barrier to a relationship or even a kiss must be very well thought out because once it's broken, it can never be raised again. At least not without hurting someone.

Janeway: "What will it be Chakotay indulge my feelings hold fast to protocol what?"

*moves in so much it looks she is about to kiss him or it seems like she at least desperately yearns to*

Chakotay: "you have plenty of time to think about it"

*she smiles like some love struck teenager*