#I sort of got a different impression than I did initially

[quibbs126]

Alright, so I just made up this character this morning basically right after waking up, and I thought I’d draw her and show her to you. As I said in the image, this is Ruby Cacao Cookie, and she’s supposed to be Dark Cacao’s older sister (not by that much though)

I got her name because a few weeks ago, I was looking up ruby chocolate to see what exactly it was, and apparently ruby chocolate is made from a new species of cacao bean called ruby cacao. She was originally just going to be a character named Ruby Choco that Dark Cacao used to know, but then I remembered that ruby chocolate came from ruby cacao, so I thought “ooh maybe they could be siblings if she were Ruby Cacao” and so yeah

Also, as you might be able to guess, she’s supposed to be where Dark Choco gets his red eyes from, since while I like Dark Cacao ships (mainly Jujube/Cacao and Pure Vanilla/Dark Cacao/White Lily (does that have a ship name? I’m calling it purecacaolily)), I’m pretty sure in canon, Dark Choco’s only supposed to have one parent, that being Dark Cacao. So why not say he got it from another family member?

I made her hair a different color so she stood out from Dark Cacao and Choco, so I colored it after the ruby cacao pods I saw online. But I still kept the white streaks to show the connection

To be honest, I was struggling today with both her design and backstory (which was also my revision of my take on Dark Cacao’s backstory, since I’ve changed what I thought about it), mainly since I have two tests today, one of which I still need to take, and this morning my brain was split between doing physics problems in recitation, reading the books/notes for my Literature test in like an hour, listening to the discussions going on at the table, and coming up with stuff for her. Then after that I was just mentally exhausted from the Literature exam. Only in the past few hours have I been able to come up with something

Aight, so. The backstory. Note, the main character in this story will be Dark Cacao, since this also serves as my retcon of his old backstory

So Dark Cacao came from the Cacao Tribe, a place that at the time, was barely holding on. The people were starving and struggling to find enough food, the beasts in the area had grown more vicious, and their best warriors had all now crumbled away. Because of this, the people of the tribe had basically lost all hope, and were just waiting for their inevitable demise. Any concept of happiness or laughter were nothing but a pipe dream; it was a truly miserable place. Dark Cacao lived there with his sister, Ruby Cacao. They didn’t understand why the adults had all just given in to despair, and wanted to speak out against it, but they were just children, and so no one would listen to them.

One day, the tribe’s demise came in the form of a particularly devastating attack on their village (I haven’t decided what). Dark Cacao and Ruby Cacao were just barely able to escape, and they, like any of the other survivors, fled into the mountains.

They wondered why things had gotten so bad in their tribe, and eventually figured that maybe if they had chosen to keep trying and help each other instead of always being hopeless, they could have saved themselves. So the two (it was technically Ruby’s idea, but Dark quickly agreed with it) decided that they won’t make that mistake, and that they would try and help Cookies in need.

They did this for a while, this giving them a drive which helped them thrive in the wilderness, up until one particular day when they found a group of Cookies being attacked by some monsters, and they fought them off (they can probably fight and use swords at this time, though it’s a bit rudimentary), but in the process Ruby Cacao got a pretty nasty wound. At the time, she shrugged it off, but on the journey back to the Cookies’s village, it quickly grew worse and she all but collapsed. They were eventually able to get to the village and find a healer, but by the time they did, it was too late, and unfortunately her wound would be fatal, due to internal bleeding. Soon, Ruby Cacao succumbed to her wound, but not before making Dark Cacao promise that he would continue to help other Cookies in need, and then crumbling in front of him

Edit: okay, so after more thought, I’m changing the backstory from when the Cacao Tribe was destroyed to when Ruby Cacao crumbles (everything I italicized) because I don’t like it. In my defense, what I wrote here was kind of literally my first draft that I had only come up with in a few hours. I’ll keep the original just for posterity, but just note, it’s not going to be part of it

So they managed on their own for a bit. While it was more difficult now that they didn’t have others to rely on, regardless of how helpful they were, but they found a way. However, one day they got attacked by a hungry beast, and while they were eventually able to drive it off, in the process Ruby Cacao got seriously injured.

Dark Cacao tried to help, but he could only do so much, and so he tried to find someone to help her. He was able to find other travelers or tribes, but when he asked for help, they turned him away, as they had to look out for themselves. By the time he was able to find a doctor that would actually try to help, it was too late, and soon Ruby Cacao ended up crumbling in front of him

After this, Dark Cacao was left in a daze, unable to process her death, and finding himself climbing the mountains in a blizzard, as if to join her. Thankfully, he was saved by a certain pair of twins. After this, he took some time to process it all, and told himself that he had to make sure that no one else goes through what he did by helping those in need. And so, he became a wandering warrior, helping where he could

During this time, he was very lonely, and desired companionship again, but at the same time, didn’t let himself be close to another person both because he didn’t want to lose someone again, and because he felt finding someone new would be a betrayal to Ruby Cacao, as if he was just replacing her. But most notably, his experiences had led him to have a rather cynical outlook on the world and other Cookies. He had learned that in this world, Cookies tended to only look out for themselves or the people they cared about, and that compassion for anyone else was scarce. He’d help others, sure, but he wouldn’t trust them, at least not to the extent that he could rely on them. So even if he wanted to be around others, just didn’t see a reason to risk it.

He dealt with those feelings for a long time, until he met the other Ancients and went along with them on their travels, eventually coming to the realization that there is good in this world, and he can allow himself to open his heart to others and be with them, even if Ruby Cacao was still gone

Over the years, Ruby Cacao is something he’s kept close to his heart, but also something he doesn’t like talking about (only the other Ancients know about her). Though, for a while, he was starting to feel as if he was forgetting her, as it had been so long since he saw her face. But when Dark Choco was born, and he saw those red eyes, he felt that painful pang of familiarity as he remembered once more

But yeah, that’s Ruby Cacao. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a Calc test to take

Edit: I just realized that I didn’t really mention anything about her actual personality. To be honest, I haven’t really thought about that much, but I’ll work on it

[russellsppttemplates]

Uh oh, I'm falling in love (Lando Norris)

Y/N and Lando both have jobs that require good sight and attention to detail and yet they're oblivious to their feelings for eachother

Note: english is not my first language. I'm in a very fluffy mood, so I got really excited when I got this request! This also makes my expectations even higher and calls me single in about seventeen different languages at once...

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions a needle (for sewing)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Hey guys! How's everyone?", Max said to the camera as you made sure the set up was right, the screen showing his and Lando's faces on one screen and the table on the other like it was supposed to.

"As per your many, many requests, we have brought our graphic designer at Quadrant, Y/N", Lando announced as you appeared on camera, sending a very awkward first wave to the camera, "today's stream is little different than our usual programming, but it was the only way she agreed to be in one! You guys really wanted to see her, so we had to be creative!", Max said as he moved the friendship bracelets making kit into view on the table.

"Hey, Queen Taylor said we should make the friendship bracelets, so we're just following her!", you chuckled, looking at all the coloured threads and colourful beads, sorting them out and grabbing a pen and paper so you could draw your ideas.

"Since you guys wanted to get to know Y/N, can I tell them to send in questions?", Lando questioned you, "sure, I'll answer them to the best of mu ability", you smiled.

You were picking the letters you needed for the bracelet you were making when Max spoke up, "first one: how did you start working with Quadrant? I'd love to work on the team when I finish my degree!".

"I saw the job offer, and I must admit at first I didn't really know much about the company. I looked it up, looked cool enough and I sent my CV and portfolio in. So keep your eyes peeled for any offers, I guess? We have them now on the website, which was my doing, so you can check them out there if you want to be part of the team", you offered.

"I need help, guys", Lando said as he fiddled with his bracelet, the orange and grey beads with his initials sliding on the elasticated material, I can't do the closing knot on my own", he pouted as you placed your bracelet down.

"You have to flip it like this, here. Just put it on your wrist and I'll do the rest", you ushered him, your fingertips gingerly touching his hand and wrist as you quietly laced it, "this way we don't get frilly bits out and it looks pretty, see? Pretty!", you smiled, modelling his wrist for the camera.

Pretty, that's what he often thought about you. Not only pretty, but it was one of the first physical traits that came to mind.

"We should all have matching ones!", Max said as he completed his bracelet, impressively on his own, revealing the colourful beads with Quadrant spelled in white round beads with black letters, "I'll make one for each of you", he said as he watched you show your own, pink beads and a lyric he assumed was from a Taylor Swift song.

"I'll make Y/N's, she helped me after all", Lando said as one brave fan sent a comment into the chat.

He's so giddy to make Y/N a bracelet, it's a shame it will snap because of his lack of skills

Am I delusional if I say that they'd make a great couple?

If you're delusional, then what do I call myself? I still think they're making heart eyes at eachother whenever they catch the slightest glimpse!

We're joining forces, I think it's a noble pursuit!

He's a dork, Y/N, but you should give him a chance

Have you always known you wanted to be a graphic designer?

"I thought about different careers before I settled on this one, for now at least", you explained, "engineering was in the running up, but then I figured out that I was curious about how things worked, but that didn't mean that I wanted to be the one working on it. And this was a way to express my creativity, my strategy planning as well, and at the moment it's been quite good", you smiled as Lando grabbed your wrist softly, "I need to make sure this fits", he interrupted, "and it won't snap because I've learnt how to do it, thank you very much", he blushed. So he, too, was reading the comments, choosing not to dwell in them.

"Look, this way you always have a lucky charm with you everywhere you go, even if we're not together. We're eachothers lucky charms!", Lando announced as Max mafe a fake gagging noise.

.

"Are you all ready?", you said as you and Tara walked inside the room, clasping your watch on your wrist and hoping to find the boys ready.

Quadrant had been invited to a gala dinner that celebrated the companies in the same line of business, inviting five people to take part in the meal. After some team members politely declining the invitation since they had things booked already, the group ended up being Lando, Max, Callum, Tara and yourself.

The dress required everyone to up their usual style, hence the long dress you were wearing. Even though it was far from your usual everyday attire, you felt beautiful in the dress you ended up with after browsing the online shops for a while. The cut was simple, the skirt widening from your waist down and complimenting your curves as the sheen from the midnight blue fabric looked soft and sweet against your skin.

Lando seemed to think the same, trying his best to not let his mouth hang open when you and Tara walked inside their room, heels clicking on the wooden floor as you hurried them, "does it really take that long to put on a suit? I had to help Tara with the laces on her back and we still got ready faster than the three of you?", you asked, shaking your wrist to check if the dainty watch wasn't going to fall and that it wasn't too tight either.

Looking up to meet Lando's eyes, you were sure you physically and audibly gulped. No one should look that good in a plain white shirt. The cuffs were still unbuttoned, but the shirt itself was tucked in his black pants. He didn't have any jewellery, so his tanned skin caught your eye as it contrasted with his clothes.

"Lando has a problem with his shirt and we are trying to solve it", Max said, a little bit too antsy given that, at the naked eye, there didn't seem to be a big issue with the piece of clothing you had been inspecting quite closely.

"There was a loose button, and I tried to fix it, but I made it worse", Lando said as he pointed to the button on his hand, the slight movement showing you the place where it was supposed to he holding the piece together and closed.

"Three people in this room and no one thought about grabbing the sewing kit from the amenities?", Tara suggested, looking for it in the box that was the same as it was in your room, "see? Simple as that! Can you sew it, Y/N? My hand isn't fully healed yet, I can't quite grasp something that small yet".

Tara had injured herself earlier on in the week, prompting her to ask to tag out of the gala until you pleaded her to go so you wouldn't be alone, so she couldn't do it. None of the other guys seemed to even know how to pull the thread through the needle, so you grabbed the kit from Tara's hand, "sure, I'll do it", you said, "if that's okay with you, that is", you looked over at Lando.

"Sure, anything to solve this. Do I keep it on or should I take it off?", he questioned, wanting to slap himself straight after at his offer. Why would he volunteer to be shirtless in front of you? It certainly wasn't the way to go, shoving himself like that.

"On should be fine", you muttered, missing the snickers going on behind you as you wet the thread with your tongue, careful to not transfer any of the lipstick on it and ruining the piece without point of return for good, easily looping it through and adjusting the size of the ends.

"Button", you put your hand out so Lando could place it in your fingers, "I will do my best not to poke you, let me know if I do so accidentally", you mumbled at the closeness to him you found yourself in. It was the third button from the top, and as much as you loved the sight of the shirt slightly undone, the dinner required his shirt to be done up. Looping the thread on the button a few times, you moved to pierce the crisp white fabric so it would be secure, your hands dangerously close to his skin as you could hear his laboured breath. Lando still remembered and thought constantly about your fingers touching his hand and wrist when you did the friendship bracelets video for the YouTube channel, and right now, it only added to his predicament.

"It's done, all good!", you exclaimed, looking up as you cut the thread and seeing Lando's eyes on you. The intensity nearly threw you off of your balance as you stood the tiniest bit crouched down on your high heels.

Scrambling to further the distance between your bodies, you smoothed out the non existent wrinkles on your dress, storing the supplies back in the kit as Lando managed to utter out a thank you, too stunned and intoxicated by your scent to say anything else.

"I sewed a button as neither of you look any more ready that you were when we got here? We're going to be late!", you hurried, sitting next to Tara and ignoring her smirk as you scrolled through your phone.

.

"That shoot will have to wait since Lando won't be back here soon, then", you said, moving things around in the online shared calendar, "when did you say you could again? I'm sorry", you asked, rubbing your forehead and squeezing your eyes, adjusting your glasses and looking at him through the screen.

"The first weekend of the next month", Lando assured, "are you okay, Y/N?", he asked. The bags under your eyes didn't fool anyone and you looked tired. And sick, he guessed by the layers of clothing you had on.

"I had a pretty shit day, actually", you admitted, "I had to go with the guys from storage because there was an issue. The supplier sent the samples and we wanted to get things moving so I could have some ideas for the description and the social media team also wanted to prep the draft for the whole story telling, but it all went under. I also think I caught some bug, so it's been a fun day", you exaggeratingly smiled, mocking your own misery.

"You look like you need a hug, Y/N. Do you need a hug?", Lando asked as you nodded, "Actually, that would be pretty good, but I live alone. The neighbours would think I'm pretty weird if I went around like this asking for one, too", you reasoned.

Even though he wasn't next to you, Lando still managed to pull a smile out of you as he got up from the chair he was sitting in, hugging his laptop, "did you feel that hug?", he loudly wondered, "it's full of Get well soon fairy dust!", he smiled charmingly.

"Fairy dust, mate?", Callum wondered, reminding you of his presence in the videocall, "you try and spend more than a few hours with a little girl and you let me know. Mila has taught me all about fairy dust and princess magic", Lando added.

.

"How will we get out of here?", you wondered, starting to regret joining Lando, Max and Pietra when they said they were going to watch a football game. You loved the sport and you figured it would be a nice distraction after a work loaded week, but now, things were looking less than a distraction.

"We will let them space out once the game finishes, free up the roads as well because getting out of here will be a pain, too", Lando suggested.

The game granted your team a win and three points in the championship, the crowd going wild as they clapped, whistled and waved their scarfs, slowly leaving the stadium.

"Should we make a run for it now?", Pietra said, holding her boyfriend's hand as she allowed him to pull her away.

You followed Lando, thanking his choice of a colourful hoodie to wear today as it made it easier for you to spot him, "go in front of me, I'll back you up", he switched positions. You weren't having too much trouble until you were met with a ramp, people carelessly shoving others as they tried to leave as quick as they could, all with the same intent of avoiding traffic and crowded roads.

"Here, Y/N", you heard Lando as he grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers in his and pulling you along, excusing you two as you approached Max and Pietra again, "we're here", you tapped the blonde woman's shoulder with your free hand.

"Goodness, that was and adventure", she said once you reached the stadium car park, the crowd clearing up significantly as there was maybe another ten people headed the same way as you were now, "is everyone alright? I think someone stepped on my foot quite a few times, or many people stepped on it at various different times", you reasoned, walking alongside Lando still.

"Don't we need to hand the bracelets back?", Max said as he looked at the sign, taking his bracelet off and depositing it in the box in the booth, Pietra doing the same as you seemed distracted.

"Are you okay, Y/N?", Max asked, seeing you and Lando were still holding hands and, because of that, not taking off your bracelets.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?", you scrunched your eyebrows, "we need to hand the bracelets back in, so I kind of need to have yours, too", he teased, looking at your hand still entwined with Lando's.

Removing your hand from Lando's as if it har started burning all of a sudden, you removed the bracelet, apologising quietly to the stadium employee as you thanked him, "shall we go now?".

"Dinner out?", Lando gulped, getting into the driver's seat, "Good idea, yes", Max added, sitting in the passenger's seat as you and Pietra sat in the back, your hand rubbing your other hand that had been laced with Lando's own one for a long time. Uh oh, you were falling in love.

.

The launch was finally over after an amazing response from the fans, leaving your heart happy and warm with a sense of mission accomplished.

"Is everything packed into the van?", you asked Tara, "yes, it's just this box. It has fragile things, so do you think you guys can take it in the car with you? It probably only fits at the front, so you'll have to squeeze in with the boys on the back", she smiled apologetically, "it's fine, we'll keep eachother warm like penguins do", you chuckled, holding the door open as she set the box safely.

Saying goodbye to her and the rest of the team, Max and Lando joined you, "You sit in the middle seat", Max pointed at you, opening the door ao you could scoot closer to Lando and he could get in.

"Could you tell me how long we have until get back?", Lando asked the driver, "with traffic at this hour, I'd say around 90 minutes", he smiled, turning on the blinker so he could leave the car park.

"Plenty of time for me to catch up on sleep, then!", you cheered, making yourself comfortable in the space you had, folding your scarf into an impromptu travel pillow, closing your eyes.

"Are you a snorer?", Max asked, making you blindly swat his thigh, "only when I'm sick, and lucky for you, I'm in presteen health, no blocked nose", you grumbled.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep. In the last week, all of the nights combined, you probably slept less than thirty hours, so your body was indeed in need of rest.

"And there it goes", Max said as your pillow undid itself, Lando lifting his shoulder in reflex so your head wouldn't drop drastically, landing on top of him, "Good thing she isn't our engineer, hm?", he chuckled, looking at how his bestfriend was looking at you like you hung the stars and the moon.

"I think I'm in love with Y/N", Lando whispered after he took your appearance in. You had forgone wearing make-up today, so he could see all your moles and scars, your pouty lips and the darkened skin under your eyes. It took everything in him to not bend down and kiss your forehead.

"Congrats on being the last one to find out, mate", Max added, shaking his head, "I genuinely thought you had some issue processing information, I'm glad to find out you don't.

"Now you just have to act on it, which is going to take you, what? Two, three more months?".

[seasidefae]

daylight (and other magical phenomenons) oscar/carlos | 1.8k words

Oscar was at the library, casting a spell on the copy of Spellman’s Syllabary to levitate back to the shelf where he got it, when he felt a wisp of magic behind him.

It’s funny. There is magic around the Hogwarts Library that nobody really notices unless you really look for it. A shield pulsing strongly around the Restricted Section is different from the gentle vibrations of the newly returned books by students floating around the floor, looking for its home.

This one is different. Stronger but more pleasant. Lighter. It leaves a trail of light blue, a tinkling bell echoing with it. The magic coats the area with happy feelings that immediately eases Oscar’s initial weariness from pulling yet another all-nighter.

They finally discussed Patronus charms in D.A.D.A. class a couple of days ago. Professor Hamilton told them the basics of the spell, as some sort of preview for next week’s full lesson. In just one quick Expecto Patronum, out comes a snow leopard from the Professor’s wand.

There were a few demonstrations, like Max with his lion that upset the actual Gryffindors, George and the horse he swore looked like the one he had back home, and Franco conjured a falcon.

The others tried in class and tried again in their free period. Oscar sat at The Quad while his friends tried to conjure, at the very least, a ball of light to ward off potential dementors. George tried to help, but the Ravenclaw’s clipped replies didn’t really do much.

Oscar didn’t want to try in front of them. Besides, he and Lando had some homework to catch up on.

The corporeal patronus in the library ran in circles, its mouth open and laughing. Oscar knows whose this Wirehaired Pointer was. It was the thin and tall dog that bounded over the lake in between Sparrow Hall and Wren Manor, and greeted Oscar with a happy bark from way across it every time they met.

That bark was usually followed with a snarky remark from his owner, which would then begin a spar of some kind. A back and forth of insults about the other’s flying skills and horrible taste in Quidditch teams. They were never serious enough to hurt, really. Oscar had a good laugh every time Carlos’ nose scrunched in that displeased, disgusted way. Carlos seemed to have his fun, too, when Oscar stared at him deadpan. It was the highlight of those first few summers Oscar had spent here.

Patronus Piñon stopped at Oscar’s feet like it was waiting for a good petting. Oscar laughed to himself. Whatever it was, Carlos still did it.

The dog barked once before Carlos’ voice overtook it.

Impressed? I even got an eighth year to teach me a few tricks to do with it, like send it to you with voice message. ¿Que? Oh, Max says hello. Unless this isn’t Oscar Piastri, Mr Slytherin Prefect, then fuck off and stop listening. If you are, then HA! I did it first, vida. I can teach you tomorrow morning before our morning ride.

And then Max’s voice interrupted him, It’s literally as simple as thinking of your happiest moment. That is lesson one and done. Just ask him to sneak into the tower to make out like a norma—OW FUCK!

After a quick spin and a jump, the patronus evaporates, leaving glowing particles that disappear before they hit the wooden floors.

Oscar did his rounds that night, thinking of morning and a surprise disruption from their usual morning broom ride. They were both going to be Quidditch captains next year; extra training wouldn’t hurt.

When morning finally came, and he was the first one in their room of four to rise, he washed in haste and changed into a nondescript grey sweater and pants, briskly walked back to his desk to grab a few papers, and ran to the main door of the dungeon. He almost collided with Carlos in the hallway.

A smiley Carlos was a sight for sore eyes in the morning. Oscar pushed him gently, more so to stop himself from kissing him than anything.

“Are you ready for your patronus lesson?” Carlos said. He had a satchel with him, white like his hoodie, and he hitched it up on his shoulders as they walked.

“That depends. Do I get to beat your record first?”

“Would we have time before Charms? This lesson might take hours with you.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Oscar chuckled, punching Carlos lightly on the arm. “I bet I can think of a happier memory than yours. What is it, anyway?”

Carlos’ laugh reverberated against the stone walls of the stairwell.

“Think of something nice and we will work from there.”

“Something nice.” Deadpan must be Carlos’ favourite brand of Oscar. “Like chocolate?”

“Just think, Oscar.”

This could be one, Oscar thought, as the first splashes of dawn cast an orange glow around the Quidditch pitch. Carlos, dead centre on the field, his broom and satchel discarded on the grass beside him and his wand at his side. Carlos worked with his wand in a cool, almost detached demeanour, like the pureblood didn’t need it. Oscar knew Carlos practised wandless magic with Professor Alonso on weekends. But even the most powerful wizard needed a wand to cast a patronus.

“Focus and think of nothing else. Do not get distracted,” Carlos said, pointing his wand at Oscar.

“I’ll try,” Oscar quipped, winking and failing.

“Shh. Behave,” said Carlos in between huffs of laughter. “Bueno. I will give it a go now.”

Patronus Piñon returns briefly, running and jumping around again. Carlos howled and cheered, reaching for Piñon before realising what he was doing, and retracted his hand. It was magical. Oscar still marvelled at all displays of magic but he liked seeing Carlos excel at it, satisfaction obvious in the way Carlos cheered every time any spell worked.

The patronus looked different in the daylight. It glowed golden, not blue, like it reflected the light the sun offered. Piñon bounded towards Oscar like the real one would by the lake or that first time Oscar finally tore the invisible barriers of Wren Manor down and was invited inside.

Carlos then nodded at Oscar, as Piñon disappeared into the sun, signalling his turn.

He tried to think about the first time Oscar stepped into Carlos’ house. Christmas, 4th year. Carlos’ mum Reyes offered him seconds and his sisters were there on their break, too, from Beauxbatons. He tried to ignore the dark side of that memory, of the snide remarks from their other relatives, questioning how a muggleborn wormed (ha) its way to Slytherin house.

Oscar said the incantation, willing it to be enough. A trail of gold flowed out of the tip of his wand, but that was it. He sighed, expecting Carlos to tut and tease.

“Good try. Do it again,” Carlos said instead.

That gentle smile could make Oscar move mountains for him.

So, he thought of another memory. The first time Mark brought him to Diagon Alley, getting his first wand, and the train ride to the castle. But then the sorting hat ceremony followed that, the isolation from the other Slytherins because of his status, and how he didn’t have any real friends until 1st year Charms when Lando had asked for his help on a spell and by lunch time he had one Slytherin friend, a handful of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and even a few Gryffindors at his side. That included Carlos, who had initially ignored Oscar that whole first week of classes.

Oscar felt a hand wrapping around his knuckles. He felt another easing his shoulders down.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be real, really, but it needs to be positive. And you shouldn’t feel ashamed of it.”

So close to his ear. So gentle, like the breeze.

“Now it looks like you’re teaching me archery,” Oscar whispered back.

Carlos dropped his hands, but the warm feeling they left behind stayed with him.

“It looks like you are preparing for a battle. You are not fighting anyone here.”

Oscar dropped his arm to the side and turned to ask, “So what did you think about?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Carlos replied as quickly as a snitch would be passing in front of him.

But Oscar’s a seeker, in every which way. “If it helped you do what some think is impossible, then yes, it matters, Carlos.”

Carlos glanced away, following a singular cloud at the sky. He heaved a heavy breath, sighed, and—

They were standing so close, Oscar could count Carlos’ eyelashes and knew he would lose count at a hundred. He moved away, not so far, but enough to give them space. It gave Oscar a minute to breathe.

But Carlos pulled him back in, closed the distance with a kiss that tasted of mint and Carlos, a familiar taste, and told him against his lips, “What’s nice is the thought of you, right now. That I get to have the privilege of being your friend, and more, and staying by your side. That’s what I think about.”

His heart pounded but he had never felt more at ease as soon as Carlos squeezed Oscar’s neck.

Words failed Oscar a lot of the time, so he did what he does best.

He swished his wand, thinking of winning the final Quidditch game last year against Gryffindor and seeing Carlos wearing Oscar’s green scarf in the viewing area where most of the Ravenclaws are wearing green in support of them. He thought of faintly hearing Carlos cheer for him as if he was using a sonorous charm, but he knew it was all in his head and his heart swelled with it anyway.

“Expecto patronum,” Oscar said with confidence and out of his wand, following a trail of gold, came an Ocicat.

Oh.

They blinked at each other.

Huh.

It sat there, polite, waiting. The patronus cat glanced between Oscar and Carlos before moving towards the Ravenclaw, purring between Carlos’ legs.

“Jesus Christ,” Oscar grumbled, pleased and disgruntled at the same time. He found his inner companion, his given light in the dark, and it’s a freaking cat.

Carlos was so pleased. If he could pick the cat up and cuddle with it, he would.

“Oscar! It’s just like you,” he cooed.

“No, she isn’t.”

“She is a she? Perhaps you know that best, of course.” Carlos dropped the teasing when the cat disappeared and so did Oscar’s initial excitement at having done something. “It was incredible, vida.”

“I guess it was,” Oscar admitted, scrunching his nose. He searched himself and found that: yes, he felt good. “I mean, it wasn’t a snow leopard.”

Carlos grinned, running to get his broom. “No, but you can still prove you are just as fast as one,” he called, just as Oscar caught up and grabbed his own.

[dogsosoy]

i am thinking about stalking aki. no devils au also (gn)reader is an obsessive freakkk and loser ; things get a little physically violent ^__^

as per usual, you were following the local grocery store clerk home after his shift.

he was a pretty unassuming guy, despite his height, but something about him was different from all the other NPCs you had to encounter in your shitty city.

a few weeks ago, for the first time in your life, someone wasn’t outright disgusted with your presence. on top of that, that person was downright gorgeous too. exactly your type. a lot like the guys you went for in your dating sims: tall, long hair, and an unbothered attitude. aki had an air about him that screamed “i don’t really care,” which made you weak in the knees. you were shaking when you approached his checkout line.

you expected him to be like everyone else. throw you a hardly-concealed glare and make your interaction as swift as possible. you’ve never been that great with social interaction. or social cues. but somehow, in your delusional mind, you believed that you were quite charming the day you met aki.

he had initially caught you off guard. aki recognized the game on your shirt, and commented on it as he was checking out (and trying hard not to judge) your groceries (seriously, when was the last time you ate a meal that wasn’t full of MSG?). immediately getting even more flustered and nervous than you already were, you told him a fun fact about the game—that only you found fun—and flashed him an awkward, stressed out smile. more fearful looking than anything. more animalistic than human.

but he smiled back, so clearly that meant you did a good job, right? you surely impressed him with your knowledge and the submissive air about you! he must’ve thought you were charming in a “kicked dog” sort of way.

aki totally wasn’t thinking ‘will this quivering little freak get out of my line already?’ eyeing your shaky hands and figure. you were most definitely overstaying your welcome in the check-out area to stutter at this poor clerk. at least he’s good at staying composed. most of the time.

overall, he was disgusted by you. you looked like you got hit by a bus two weeks ago and hadn’t showered since. your clothes were dirty and way too big, like a child trying on something from their parent’s closet. you had a minecraft wallet that would’ve been a cute little trait if you weren’t so fucking off-putting. your hair was in your eyes. probably to hide your face, he thought. you don’t seem to like being perceived.

aki had a lot of thoughts about you in that moment—some of them more intrusive than others. he thought about scowling at you, yelling at you to move along, maybe shoving your shitty groceries into your hands so you’d get the idea that he really didn’t like your vibe. or face. or anything about you. then, aki thought about strangling you. you just had a face for it. you looked easy to beat up and aki kind of liked that. it crossed his mind that maybe he could kick the shit out of you after his shift. get some anger out. hell, he could’ve taken five and done it right then.

you know, normal minimum wage job thoughts.

but of course, he didn’t do any of that. didn’t even really entertain the thought (although he really would’ve liked to). at his core, aki isn’t a bad person. he’s not the best, don’t get him wrong, but he wouldn’t harm a random person he doesn’t know. even if that person was giving him a million reasons to, just by existing. even if they look like they would make such a good punching bag. or stress ball. or chew toy?

aki doesn’t necessarily enjoy hurting people. he’ll admit, he does find some sort of sick satisfaction in it, but it’s not something he actively seeks out. or even something that regularly crosses his mind. aki is reliable and intelligent. that’s what anyone you ask would say about him. sure, maybe he’s a hardass most of the time, but he really does seem to have a thing for helping others.

he looked at you, really looked at you, his eyes filled with pity as you were turning to walk out of the store. he imagined what it would be like to have everyone you come across have these sorts of thoughts about you. how could you live your life normally when everything about you invokes violent and anger in the people around you?

it was pathetic. he thought you were pathetic.

maybe he could help you.

your eyes caught his only for a moment as you cautiously glanced back at him, trying to sneak in one more glimpse at this angel before you went home, not to return for weeks. then you saw it. you saw that look. something in his eyes, but it wasn’t anger or annoyance or disgust. your face heated up, and your eyes widened with how flustered you felt. your palms suddenly felt sweaty, and it was too hot. for once, someone looked at you and felt something more for you, and it felt like a fire was lit inside your chest.

this man… (squints to read name tag) aki… he was different.

and aki knew from that split second that you were definitely a total hopeless case and complete freak.

your obsession with him snowballed from there.

you followed behind him after every shift, making sure to stay hidden from the light and as far away as possible. you just wanted to make sure the love of your life got home safe! plus, it wasn’t hard to keep an eye on him. maybe keeping up with him was a little difficult due to the height difference, but good thing you’re amazing at masking your presence! thank you, fear of being perceived.

even from this distance, your heart was in your throat. you could barely make out the way his shoulders moved as he walked, or how he lazily puffed on a cigarette (mevius brand, your brain supplied). it was still enough to get you panting like a freaky little creep. your whole body was on fire. the physical reaction you had to aki was apparent, and it had only gotten worse by the day. during your first interaction, you were a complete mess. now? you’d be lucky to get a single word out if he was any closer than twenty feet, and your legs would surely give out from the anxiety. it would be like meeting god.

aki had decided earlier, during his shift, that he had had enough of this game of cat and mouse.

of course he could feel the eyes on his back during his walk to his apartment. although you think you’re quite slick and sneaky, aki has known since the first day you followed him home. you may be quiet, but your hiding skills are a bit rusty. on top of that, aki trained in the police force. he knows when someone is tailing him. he had to hand it to you though, it took him longer than normal to notice you.

every day you got a bit closer—he had picked up on that by the fifth night. he picked up on you breaking into his apartment by the second week, which irked him. not because he necessarily cared about you stealing his stuff—he didn’t have much of value anyway—he just didn’t want your dirty hands touching everything. he started cleaning more after that.

then slowly he started… leaving things out for you. like someone leaving milk out for a stray cat. a half eaten bar of chocolate on his kitchen counter, an old shirt on his bed. things he thought you’d think he wouldn’t miss. he left some healthier food out too, with a few bites taken out of it, so you’d think he was done eating and take it for yourself.

he wondered if it felt like sharing a meal to you, too.

he had caught a glimpse of you in a shop window as he turned the corner onto his street. you were wearing his shirt. he never saw you without one of his shirts on, not since you started stealing them.

instead of continuing all the way to his apartment, aki stopped short and took a quick right to duck into a nearby alleyway.

your heart sped up. what was he doing? was he meeting with someone else? going to someone else’s place? maybe just taking a leak? despite your worryingly amazing stalking skills, you lacked a lot of… basic intellect. street smarts.

common sense.

you approached the alley cautiously, peering in. no sign of aki. your heart sunk, had you lost him? your foot steps rang out in quiet thuds on the concrete. your thoughts were running a mile a minute.

aki thinks you should be more aware of your surroundings. it becomes another bullet on his mental list of things you need to work on. this list is uncomfortably long.

you pass by an unassuming dumpster, not looking at or even near it. it didn’t cross your mind that the object of your deepest desire could be crouched beside it. why would he be? why would he be staring at you? why would he be getting ready to pounce on you, like a predator on prey?

the moment you had just barely cleared the threshold into his vision, aki pounced.

your back hit the concrete wall before you could even grasp what could be happening. the smell of cigarette smoke flooded your sinuses. someone’s forearm was pressed to your neck—their hand carefully balancing a mevius cigarette between two fingers—affectively holding your weaker body in place and somewhat choking you. your voice cried out in a pathetic yelp, which caused another large hand to be placed rather roughly over your mouth. he didn’t want you to make any unnecessary noise. or, god forbid, any dumb comments.

his figure was even more imposing at this distance—or lack there of. fuck, is he going to kill you? beat the shit out of you? why is that thought kinda hot? your heart was beating so fast you felt like you were going to have a heart attack. aki, ever composed, casually leaned over your trembling body, looking deep into your scared eyes with his intense gaze. he was so calm, but he was also scary. imposing. like a parent looking down at a child who has misbehaved. your knees felt weak.

you have misbehaved.

his face was inches from yours as he spoke softly, condescendingly, “i would say you’re dumber than you look but,” his eyes raked over your figure slowly, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. he removed his forearm from your neck and took a drag and blew the smoke into your face as he continued, “you’re not.”

quick note: having a hand over your mouth, somewhat covering your nose, smoke blown into your face, and having previously been choked by a forearm to the neck does NOT pair amazingly with what was likely an incoming panic attack. or maybe it was a meltdown. aki didn’t think you could tremble this much. widen your eyes this much. make him feel so in control this much. he would’ve rather thrown out his brand new pack of meviuses than admit that you have such a way of making him feel. he continued rolling his cigarette between his fingers, staring at your face, thinking. then he backed off a little. looked down his nose at you.

his gaze was filled with disgust… and an impossible amount of want. want for you. to own you. control you. maybe he just wanted to have some sort of control over anything in his life. unfortunately, you didn’t have a whole lot of time to react to this sudden realization about aki, as you cried out, muffled by his palm. the bastard had put his cigarette out on your neck.

“don’t worry,” he spoke softly, in an ever condescending tone, “you’ll probably still be able to walk when i’m done.”

[batwritings]

Kinktober Day 12 - Hand Job

Horangi's turn! I really tried to do justice to him finding the balance of that inner peace. Enjoy!~

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

It wasn’t exactly a secret amongst the KorTac group; you were defacto “mom teammate”. You made sure everyone had what they needed in regards to their care on the field before heading out. Sure, colonels like König could manage the technical and equipment side of things. The work you did was more from the mental headspace aspect.

Now, all this being said, you weren’t often seen showing the same amount of care to yourself. This fact certainly didn’t go unnoticed by Horangi. Having been in your position himself once upon a time, he made it his mission to get you to start to care for yourself. And that started in the form of a self care day.

This man had the works laid out for you. Different options upon options that were slightly overwhelming to see all at once that had your mind wondering if all those stereotypes about “Korean beauty standards” were a real thing. Thankfully for you, you weren’t going to be doing all of this at once.

The man starts with simple things, effectively having you be his guinea pig of sorts. He’d have you sit still for him to put certain things on, starting with your face and hands. It smelled…interesting, felt even stranger, and you were a bit relieved when it was removed.

“Feel your skin now,” Horangi instructed you, watching you intently for your reaction. You let your fingers run over your hands and face with a glimmer in your eyes. Never in your life had your skin felt so…well, nothing short of perfect.

“Never took you for one for the whole ‘beauty standard’ thing,” you admitted, looking over each bit that he’d paid attention to. You could see the self-satisfied smirk in your peripheral vision. Curious, you tilted your head. “What? Were you also previously a k-pop star?”

Horangi chuckled and shook his head. “Thankfully no,” he told you, a slight sadness in his voice. “What they have to go through to meet the standards of their managers is…” The man sat for a while, trying to choose the right words before he shook his head. “Anyway, no, I was never involved in the entertainment industry back home.”

You continued to watch his relaxed posture as he sat back against the head of your bed. “But it wasn’t just looks that got me allowed into places I probably shouldn’t have been,” he admits. You see his hand move and cover the slight bump in his sweatpants and instantly understand.

A smirk comes to your face now, slowly adjusting yourself to lay between his legs. “Really now?” you ask, voice seductive and amused all at once. “Why don’t you show me proof then?” 

There were a lot of things Hong-jin was, now that he had spent time in the military and especially with KorTac. Strong, courageous, selfless even; but he was also no stranger to feeding the beast inside him to keep it in line. Lightly calloused hands slide down the waistband of his sweats, pulling his member free. It was more impressive than you had initially thought, making your eyes widen just a bit. 

Instinct immediately told you “put your lips on it”, but you’re stopped almost as quickly as the thought came to you. “Use your hands only,” Horangi tells you softly. He sits back to keep his hands away and watch

You blink a bit, confused before you do as he asks. Your freshly cared for hand comes up to wrap around his member as you start a slow pace of stroking him. His pleased rumble sounds more akin to a purr, further attributing to his call sign. Part of you wants to give him grief, but you decide that can wait. 

You go with the motions for a while; up and down, up and down. You watched the man in front of you intently for every reaction. He seemed to particularly enjoy it when you ran your thumb over the tip, catching the pre-cum there as you went. 

“Ah…씨발,” Horangi huffs, hands fisting in the thin blanket of his cot. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d done this before.” He tries to chuckle, but your roll your thumb and twist your hand just right and those pretty brown eyes are rolling back in pleasure.

You laugh a little at this. “Just a time or ten,” you tell him. Your other hand comes up to join the other, working his cock in a solid grip. You switch it up almost immediately, one hand continuing to love on the Korean man’s member while the other moved to fondle his tight balls.

The extra stimulation was more than enough for your caretaker of the day. Horangi came with a low groan, hips bucking up into your touch. He watched through half-lidded eyes at the mess he made across your hands, not wanting to leave the softness of your skin. Yet the telltale sensations of overstimulation began to rise, causing him to writhe in your grip.

You let go immediately, hopping up to find a tissue or washcloth to clean the two of you up with. “Looks like you may have to redo my hands,” you tease lightly as you clear both your skin and his of the mess. Horangi chuckles softly as he tucks himself away.

“Any time for you, 내 사랑.”

[h-c-u]

Mystery of the traveling bruises.

Summary: You always bruised easily, but lately it was becoming excessive. And honestly couldn't trace half of them to anything specific, until one night, the solution to your mystery hits you. 

Pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x fem!reader

W/C: 1.3k

Rating: PG, size difference

TWs: none

A/N: Ice is a giant, strong af teddy bear, who definitely could split logs in half Captain America style, and he just loves the reader so much. Like seriously. It's tooth-rotting <3

Masterlist | List of tags

Ice moved in his sleep. A lot. 

It didn't bother you, since you could have slept through the apocalypse. Besides, something else wasn't letting you fall asleep so easily lately. 

Even more bruises started magically appearing on different parts of your body. They weren't even that bad and almost never hurt, and since you basically bruised when you stared at a single fragment of skin for too long, you kind of brushed it off. But usually, you were able to trace most of them to a specific moment when they were created, but lately... Well... They were just appearing out of nowhere. 

It took you a good four weeks to solve that mystery, and the solution fell into your lap as surprisingly as possible, in a form of a rough wake-up, when you were literally elbowed off the bed. But after the initial shock of such a sudden wake-up disappeared, you just burst into laughter, because the solution to your mystery hit you. Literally. And when you started laughing, Ice also started waking up. 

At first, he thought you were crying and got really scared, waking up in an instant, but he quickly realized that you were fine. 

- It was you! - you couldn't stop laughing, and it was really hard to accuse someone of such a heinous crime when you couldn't even keep your face straight, still sitting on the floor.

- What...? - even though he was currently fully woken up, his voice was still raspy and sleepy. 

- I was trying... - you just couldn't stop laughing at the whole situation, because you were honestly starting to suspect you were getting abducted by aliens who were running some sort of psychological experiment on you. You hid your head in between your knees, trying your best to calm down, but the tears started to appear in the corners of your eyes, and that made you laugh even harder. - I thought it was aliens! Or fairies! Or goblins! Or gods know what! BUT IT WAS YOU!!! - another wave of ugly laughter hit you with such force, that you toppled to the floor. Of course, you didn't really believe that, but the thought crossed your mind. 

- What...? - he evidently couldn't grasp what was happening. Did he miss something? Did you lose your mind? 

- YOU WERE GIVING ME THE BRUISES!!! - you finally got it out and started laughing even more, if that was possible. Ice was staring at you and blinking like crazy, trying to process exactly what happened, and his brain finally started catching up. He of course noticed the additional bruises because he kissed every single one of them diligently every evening. But since you recently came back to sculpting in stone, and considering the fact that you recently got a dog, he thought that it was because of that... He didn't even think that he might be the source of them. But the reality started to sink in, and his face finally made you sober up and calm down quicker than ever. 

- No, no, no, no, no...! It's not your fault, it's ok, I don't blame you! They don't even hurt, you know that! - the speed at which the words were leaving your mouth was at least a little bit impressive. 

- But... I hurt you.... - he was still processing that, but when everything clicked, he was next to you in a second. - I'm so, so sorry... - he instantly pulled you into the softest of hugs. 

- Tom, I'm fine, it's fine... - you let him lift you from the floor, wrapping your legs around his hips, while one of his arms was supporting your ass and the other landed between your shoulder blades. You loved that he could just do that as if you weren't heavier than a kitten. - I was just analyzing the shit out of them for the last four weeks, and the mystery is finally solved. I'm honestly ok. - you tried to convince him as best as you could, but you just knew that there was a siren howling in his brain, that he somehow hurt you. 

- I'm sorry... - he repeated himself, hiding his face in the nook of your neck. - I'm really fucking sorry... I didn't mean to... - his arms were holding you so tenderly, yet you still could feel his tense muscles under his skin. 

- I don't accept your apology, because there is nothing to apologize for, Ice. As you've said, you didn't mean it, and it's not like you can control your body in your sleep. We're just gonna have to come up with something. - you smiled. - And before you even say it - if you'll suggest sleeping on the couch, you better mean both of us, together. - you warned him because you could see on his face where his thoughts went. 

- Fine... - he was obviously not happy that you were not giving up - or in his mind - you were exposing yourself to more pain. If his colleagues could see him now... Mr. Ice-cold-no-mistakes almost broken by few bruises. - So what do you have in mind...? - he finally asked, and you already had a possible solution in mind. 

Since you usually slept on your stomach and you didn't want to change positions... 

- I'm gonna be your weighted blanket for now, and we'll go from there... - he smiled, but the concern was still present in his eyes. 

- You want to...? - the thought apparently more pleasurable than he thought at first. 

- Sleep on top of you, yes. - you didn't even ask him for permission, but you honestly doubted that he would have said no, especially right now. 

He only hummed in agreement and you could feel his chest vibrating against your body. 

Without letting you go, he climbed back to bed and laid down in his usual spot, but this time with some additional weight on his body. 

- Are you comfortable...? - he asked when he covered you both with a duvet. 

- Hmmm... Not yet, give me a moment... - right now you were feeling more like a frog doing the splits around his abdomen, so you started adjusting. 

First, you've straightened your right leg and placed it in between his, which under different circumstances could have led to something else. Right now though, you were both calming down, and slowly getting sleepy again, so there was no chance for any... additional activities. But who could say what will happen in the future...? You hooked your left leg high over his hip, so you were basically straddling his right side, and that alone was already enough to relieve the pressure on the lower part of your spine, and you couldn't help but stretch a little to give into that feeling. Your left arm fell along his side to the mattress, and you pressed your fingertips just a little bit under his ribs; not enough to cut circulation, but enough to feel a tiny bit of pressure grounding you in that position. 

- Your neck is not supported, it will hurt in the morning... - he was the one who noticed that first, and honestly - you were comfortable enough to slip right back into the soft nothingness of sleep. He tried putting a small pillow under your head, but it was too high and would strain your neck even more. And when that didn't work, he placed his forearm there, and your right hand slithered under it, in the open space around his elbow, and both of you hummed in agreement at the same time, apparently finding a perfect position.

- Good night, Ice... - you mumbled against his skin. 

- Good night, love... - he whispered and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. - I'm sorry... - he apologized again, and you gave him a warning growl because you were too far gone for words. 

It didn't take either of you long to fall asleep, and what was even more important, you woke up without any additional bruises on your body. But after the night of such comfortable sleep, how the hell you were supposed to sleep when he wasn't home...?

[coraniaid]

You said a few days ago that you would have liked if season 7 went more in the direction of Help rather than the direction of the First. I know you're not a big fan of the First but I was wondering what you meant by that specifically, and what kind of direction you might have preferred season 7 go in overall?

I don’t have any good reason to think it actually happened, but I always get the impression from watching or thinking about Season 7 that the early plans for the season changed pretty significantly at some point after most of the first few episodes had already been written.  (Perhaps when they decided that it would also be the last season?  I’ve heard conflicting accounts of when that decision was made.)

If you go back and look at the then-contemporary discussions of the show, the whole season was initially marketed as something of a ‘year zero’: a return to the show’s high school era roots, to something much more upbeat than Season 6, to the original Scooby Gang as the focus of the show.  

And just to be clear, I rather like Season 6 – it doesn’t always work, and I think some of the subplots are pretty dreadfully executed, and sometimes I respect the episodes more than I enjoy watching them – but it inarguably has a clear vision for the story it’s trying to tell, one that builds on and recontextualizes what came before it.  But for the payoff for that season to land, we needed Season 7 to be different.  To be less cynical, more hopeful.  It needed to show us that Buffy was right to promise Dawn in Grave that things were going to get better.  

And that sort of reset is what we got … for about half a dozen episodes.  Then, of course, it goes rather horribly wrong.

I like Help in particular because it is, for me, the closest the show ever gets to delivering on that promise of a return to the high school era.  It’s not quite a regression or a soft reboot: Buffy is still an adult with a job, even if she’s suddenly unexpectedly back in high school.  Her more mundane responsibilities haven’t suddenly gone away. But now the job she has isn’t something she hates but has to do – it’s something that she actually has a calling for, almost literally, something that harks back to her getting the Class Protector award back in Season 3.   In Help Buffy’s inhabiting the same world she did in the first three seasons, she’s still trying to save people, but this time with a new, more experienced perspective. 

The episode feels very aware of the show’s history, too.  There are nods to Lie To Me (a teenager Buffy knows is going to die because of illness, not anything supernatural Buffy can stop) and Reptile Boy (the cult trying to sacrifice a teenage girl to a demon for material riches) and Beauty and the Beasts (with Buffy herself taking on the role of Mr Platt, worried that Mike is going to turn out to be another Pete), and of course the whole episode is a callback to Prophecy Girl.  Because Cassie – probably the show’s last great one-episode character (and yes, the actor comes back later but the person doesn’t) – isn’t just somebody Buffy is trying to save, she is Buffy: a Season 1 Buffy who struggles to make friends and has a supernatural gift she doesn’t like to talk about and knows she’s going to die heartbreakingly young.  I don’t think it’s merely chance that Cassie’s big speech to Buffy about her destiny (“You think I want this?  You think I don’t care?”) echoes Buffy’s own words to her mother in Becoming either (“You think I choose to be like this?”).

Plus, while the episode ties into the wider story arc – with Spike in the basement and hints that Principal Wood might be up to something and our first appearance of future Potential Amanda – the whole thing still tells a coherent, self-contained story.  It stands on its own right; it makes sense on its own terms.  it’s not just another installment in the long running saga of General Buffy and the friends she never talks to who later kick her out of the house she owns.

And I think there was a lot more ground there to explore, in the same vein as Help.  At least a full season’s worth.  There was so much more the show could have tried to do in terms of going back and revisiting some of the classic moments of the first three seasons from a more mature and more grown-up perspective, instead of summarily kicking Buffy out of her new job and then blowing the school up (again).  If this season is about the future – about new Slayers being called, one way or another – then what does that mean?  How else are Buffy and Willow and Xander engaged in the challenge of trying to pass on what they’ve learned about life on the Hellmouth to a new generation?  

At its best, Buffy has always been in conversation with its past, building on ideas that were touched on in one season and asking the audience to think about them again from a different angle.  And the beginning of Season 7 sets up the perfect stage to try to do more of that.

I’d have loved to have seen a whole season of Buffy trying to keep her students alive while also preparing them to go out and live in the world.  Of Dawn making new friends and finding value in being herself, not just the Slayer’s sister or the mystical Key.  Of Buffy and Willow and Xander really getting to know each other again, and having a chance to talk about everything that happened to them last year.  A whole season of, in a way, seeing the show from the very beginning, but this time from the perspective of people like Giles or Jenny or Joyce.

But instead we got a lot of boring wank about an impossibly old super-god who can’t actually touch anything (but one who Buffy would definitely let Dawn die to defeat because this godlike being is so much more impressive and scary than Glory, trust us guys, please, we swear) and her army of interchangeable and personality-free super vampires (and of course Caleb, who’s somehow even more mind-numbingly boring than they are).  Instead we get a second half of the season in which Andrew Wells has more screen time than Willow or Xander or Anya or Giles or Dawn.  Instead we get to wonder whether Giles is the First and try to pretend to care that Spike has been hypnotized.  Instead we get Lies My Parents Told Me.

Oh well.  At least Faith shows up near the end.

[tame-the-lion-writes]

Chapter II - Conversation/Confrontation

[michael afton x reader] you -- always you

content warning: (these are implied/referenced) character death, self-harm, underage drinking

tags: GN!reader, romance, fix-it of sorts, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, domestic fluff, friends to lovers, eventual happy ending

Two months had passed since then.

Things went smoother after that first encounter with the infamous Michael Afton. First acquaintances, occasional study buddies, now friends.

Some people shot you odd looks at first, but the way you were able to talk casually with him sparked a little something amongst others. Not in a bad way, though!– not at all. He was starting to interact with more than just you, and that was nothing to be jealous of. On occasion, you’d walk into class to see a random student saying a brief hello, or as he had with you, point out an incorrect answer for someone who’d asked him to look over their math homework. Of course, this was a once-in-two-weeks sort of thing — still rare — but it was something different. Something new. It wouldn't have been far off to presume kids wanted to speak to him but were too nervous to. And now that you’d broken down their initial impression of him, they’d gathered enough courage to say hello.

“Okay, so, if y equals f(x), and f is a differential function, then the differential dx is an independent variable and the differential dy is a dependent variable.”

“What.”

“Dependent means it’s like the outcome. Independent is what you put in. Kinda like with a science experience, except we’re replacing input and output with math. Got it?”

“Kinda. Enough.”

“Alright. So you know how when you change one side of an equation, you gotta equal it out on the other side? Like say y equals x turns into y plus six equals x plus six?”

“Yes?”

“When you turn one side of an equation into a differential, you do the same to the other side.”

With a sigh, you groan and smack your head into the pile of papers that constitutes your homework. There’s a midterm on Monday, and though you’ve gotten nowhere on your own, it’s already Friday. 

“Well, yeah, I know that. We already did trigonometry differentials.”

“But do you know how it looks, visually ? When you use calculus, you’re not just figuring out the rate of change. You’re figuring out the area between points, and with a second derivative, the volume between points.”

“Okay— okay— slow down, my brain is gonna melt.”

Michael rolls his eyes and grabs your pad of graph paper this time. Within 30 seconds, he’s done sketching two models — a 2D one that shades in the space under a straight slope, and a 3D one that turns the slope into the outline of a cone.

“So you already know that a derivative is the rate of change for a slope. That’s like the basic starter for calculus. Applying it is usually in the form of taking one point—“ he places a dot near the beginning of each diagram— “and calculating the area or volume from that point to another.” He draws another dot halfway through. “Does that make a little more sense?”

You peak out from the shelter you’ve made above your head with your arms.

“Oh. Yes, actually.”

The visual representations help. A lot. And much more than your actual math teacher ever could. Still, he looks unsatisfied with how much you two have done so far.

“Look— midterm’s on Monday and we’re not even halfway through the material you need to know. Are you sure you’re gonna be fine?”

“Yeah- no,” you hiss quietly, sitting up straight to look at him. He’s perched at the edge of the library table, looking down on you with a genuinely concerned expression. Your grades weren’t everything to you, but they sure as hell were important to your parents, and he knew that. “I don’t understand how you get any of this when you’re not even in the class!”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Hey, not like I didn’t try to transfer. Apparently getting an F in your last math class means you can’t move up.”

“But you can do the work!”

“You think school counselors actually care about that?” he snickers, pushing himself off the desk before offering a slow, awkward solution. “How about this – what if you slept over?”

You don’t mind, but you hesitate, biting your tongue. “I don’t want to intrude… You work tomorrow morning, don’t you?”

“I mean, sure, but even if I have to get up early, I can still teach you tonight. Maybe even tomorrow afternoon once I get home. Hell, you could even visit the restaurant. I don’t do much other than exist there.”

“Are you sure? I thought you didn’t want me to meet your dad.”

“To be honest, I don’t think father’s coming home tonight. He’s off opening another branch of Fazbear’s. I dunno – something like that.”

** * **

A sleepover at Michael’s house.

God, it shouldn't have been such a big deal. You’ve been to sleepovers before! You just hadn’t been to a sleepover at his house before, and hell, you hadn’t even been at his house.

Michael had been insistent for the past few months that you stay away from his father. Whatever it was about William Afton that he hated, he hadn’t truly explained in detail, but it definitely had something to do with the incident all those years ago. Living with the memory on one’s own wouldn’t have been easy, but had you been the one involved, you couldn’t imagine the added pressure of facing your parents on a day to day basis.

How do you grapple with the fact that you lost a child because of another?

“Almost there.”

Michael’s voice snaps you out of a daze. You’ve been staring out the window of his station wagon for the past few minutes, having been picked up from home after you’d packed. You had to ride back to your place initially, seeing as you didn’t have your license yet, and needed to pop in to tell your parents where you’d be staying for the evening. Despite stereotypes, your dad was the one who didn’t seem to mind while your mom had to be wrestled into being convinced. It was only after you said that Michael’s mother would be there the whole time, as well as his younger sister, that she was convinced.

“Just use protection, okay?” she had muttered, peppering kisses all over your face.

The thought made you grimace.

Not that you found Michael unattractive! Not at all! But mom, stop, no–

“So what’s your mom like?” you ask Michael, slumping in the passenger seat.

“A try-hard when it comes to acting nice. At least my father’s honest when it comes to hating me.”

“But you get along with her?”

“Well enough.”

It’s not long before he’s parked the car and pulling your duffel bag of clothes out of the back seat. You take in the house before you – much bigger than yours, with a three car garage, second story, and sizable porch. Maybe that was a normal sized house elsewhere, but in the backwater town of Hurricane, it was the biggest and most well-kept around. Even the property itself is big – though there’s no sidewalk outline at the edge of town, from the plants that look well-watered, it’s at least three or four acres of land. 

Rich ass family.

Michael swings your duffel bag over his shoulder before going up to the front door. He raps the back of his knuckles on the wood twice before fishing out his keys and shoving one in the bottom lock. Before he can unlock the door, however, it’s quickly swung open by a middle school-aged girl with bright green eyes and even brighter orange locks that flare out wildly behind her.

“Michael!”

“Hey superstar,” Michael grins, holding out his hand to the girl, palm flat.

The ten year old smiles back and slides her own hand down across his, initiating a ritualistic handshake in the process. “Stop calling me that. I’m not a kid anymore!”

“Yeah? Well if you were an adult, you wouldn’t look or sound so much like a goblin,” Michael laughs, placing his hand briefly on the top of her head before he walks past to welcome you inside and introduce you. “This,” he says, gesturing to the girl, “is my little sister, Elizabeth. She’s a brat, so don’t fall for her charms.”

Elizabeth is quick to stick her tongue out at Michael. He returns it instantly and goes so far as to flick her forehead, though she stuns him without a hit.

“Are you two dating?”

The simultaneous NO that spits from you and Michael practically shakes the house.

“We’re just going to study together, that’s it,” you swear through gritted teeth.

“Mhm,” she hums skeptically, sending Michael the type of shit-eating grin only a sibling could make.

“I help you with your homework, so don’t even,” he warns.

“Yeah, but fact check, dummy: we’re siblings. It kinda comes with the job description.”

“Oh, Michael. You’re home.”

From the top of the staircase, a soft yet tired voice calls. Following the sound, you spot a middle-aged woman on the second floor landing – blonde hair pulled back into tight curls and lilac purple robe tucked over her shoulders. Like Elizabeth, her eyes are a shade of green, but it’s clear that they’ve dulled significantly over the years. Now, they’re almost as grey as the smoke wafting from the cigarette in her hand.

“Mom,” Michael begins, gesturing to you, “this is my friend–” you lift up a hand to wave– “and they’re staying overnight to study for a midterm on Monday.”

“Mm.” 

Her hum shows little interest but acknowledges you at the very least. 

“Go ahead and order some food for dinner. I’m too tired to cook.”

** * **

Michael and Elizabeth have a functional brother-sister relationship. But the rest of the family? That’s a completely different matter. From what you can tell, their dynamic goes like this: Michael and Elizabeth, good. Michael and mom, neglected. Michael and father? Let’s not even try.

There are family portraits on the wall that paint a clearer picture. A singular frame shows them all together, and it lies at the end of the hallway, hidden away. Michael stands behind his father, Elizabeth next to her mother, and there was even another brown-haired boy in Mrs. Afton’s lap – the victim of ‘83. From there, the pictures change. Elizabeth and their parents, their parents alone. Michael is absent. So is the boy.

The only other pictures with Michael are next to his bed, and they’re Kodak prints. No frame in sight. Also no ‘Mr. Afton.’

You finally got to see them after a quick dinner with Michael and Elizabeth. Perhaps at some point, they weren’t the best of siblings. Or rather, he wasn’t the best older brother (-- wonder how anyone could come to that conclusion). But his attempt to atone the past was evident from the moment you met Elizabeth. If he couldn’t make up with his brother, he’d make up with her.

Granted, Elizabeth never mentioned anything of the incident. You weren’t sure if she was ignoring it, if she didn’t take it seriously, or if she didn’t remember at all. From the family portrait, she looked around the same age as the young boy – four or five – so it was possible that she didn’t recall a life before her parents distanced themselves from Michael, or from each other. Mrs. Afton didn’t exactly look like a doting wife or mother. Maybe the type of person who does the bare minimum. But you also couldn’t blame her. Not entirely.

It’s another hour or two of calculus at the dinner table, post-Mexican food binge. You don’t understand how Michael is so patient with you, but now knowing that he also helped Elizabeth, he must’ve had lots of practice. Eventually, however, it’s you who asks to stop for the night.

“I don’t think I can take it anymore. Not today, at least. I think I need to recharge,” you whine softly, snapping your textbook shut after finishing another practice problem. “Got any mind-numbing movies?”

Michael withdraws from the position he’s in, standing over you, and looks toward the glass cabinet in the living room. “Uh– we got Raiders of the Lost Ark and The Little Mermaid.”

“Ooh, Harrison Ford.”

Your dreamy coo prompts him to wrinkle his nose. “He’s forty-seven.”

“Uh- yeah. And?”

“He’s older than my father.”

“And?”

He shoves your face away, instigating a giggle from your lips.

“What can I say?” you smile. “A man who ages like fine wine is…” You trail off, placing a hand in front of your mouth mockingly to imitate a chef’s kiss.

Michael gags and waves you off. “Just go. My room’s the first one at the top of the stairs. I’ve got a TV.”

“You got a TV in your bedroom ?”

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s my family’s old one. Not like we have family movie nights.”

That, you can’t argue with. 

The march up the stairs is brief, and soon, you’re closing the door behind you. Aside from its size, Michael’s room is a typical teenager’s room – mostly. Posters of bands and movies you’ve never heard of, a desk that clearly hasn’t been organized in months. A pile of dirty clothes (-- or clean, who knows?--) has been kicked away in a corner as well, and above an unmade bed is a string of polaroid pictures and doodles on ripped paper – probably torn off the edges of homework. There’s even a Foxy plush sitting upright against his pillow, metallic hook and plastic eye replaced by stitched cloth. In spite of his clear distaste for his father – seen in one picture where the man’s face has been covered by a silly Bonnie sketch – and the mound of childhood trauma you’ve only partially uncovered, it seems that Michael still has some affection for the characters.

The view from the room is nice, too. The sun has already begun to set, casting golden light against the walls, yet as you look out into the trees and scarlet landscape, out of the corner of your eye, a glint of light from the trash can catches your attention. Innocent curiosity gets the better of you, and you kneel by the small bin under his desk to uncover the metallic reflection. It’s covered by crumpled paper and candy wrappers, instigating a smile when you see even more doodles and new badge designs drawn on different pages. That smile drops, however, when you find the source of the reflection: not just several empty cans of beer left haphazardly tossed away – but the razor of a pencil sharpener with the faint hint of suspicious iron brown.

Ah.

“I got the VHS ta—“

He stops short when he sees you staring at the blade in silence.

“It’s…,” he begins, only to trail off and give up on explaining. All he does is kneel down,set the VHS tape aside, and start tossing the papers back into the bin – not even questioning what you were doing digging through his trash.

“... So,” you say slowly, folding your hands in your lap, “how long have you been… you know.”

He’s quiet until he finishes.

“... A while.”

“I– I don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“I mean, I know–”

“No, you don’t–

“And if your mom or dad or sister found--”

His eyes snap in your direction.

“Mom doesn’t care enough to go in my room. Father sees me as nothing more than the kid who killed his son. And Elizabeth–” he curses under his breath and rubs his face– “Elizabeth shouldn’t have to deal with any of our shit. But at least she knows not to snoop. ”

For the first time since you met, you find him glaring at you – only this time, not with suspicion, but denial. Denial that he has a problem. Denial that it matters. That he matters.

“Michael,” you whisper softly, looking him in the eye. “You’re not okay, and that’s okay. ”

He holds your gaze for several more seconds before his own softens and the whole of him wilts. “I– I’m sorry, I just– I didn’t think anyone would actually tell me that or– or listen–”

Michael’s voice comes out in broken stutters between shallow breaths. Your heart swells at the sound, and the realization of how alone he must have been finally sets in. It’s been fact before. Cold, hard knowledge. But now it’s tangible – palpable – and horrible, terrible, true. Without another word, you reach forward and pull him into an embrace, arms wrapped tight around a trembling body. He stays limp, hands resting at his sides, but you don’t mind. He doesn’t have to reciprocate. He just needs to have–

You.

And you whisper, again–

“It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.”

** * **

It’s four thirty when you wake up.

After a quiet movie session, Michael lugged up a few couch cushions and set them on the floor. He didn’t take no for an answer when he told you to take his bed, though you weren’t sure if it was out of guilt over his outburst or day-to-day selflessness. Maybe both.

Still, you were grateful for the comfort of a mattress over the makeshift couch-cushion bed, knowing the gaps between pillows would make it difficult to sleep. His bed was soft and warm, and though tainted with the faint smell of cigarette smoke, also smelled like him. You could stay here for days.

So of course, it was a surprise when you found yourself unable to go back to bed.

You step over Michael, careful not to make any noise, and brush a stray lock of his hair into place before leaving the room. He’ll have to wake up in about half an hour to get ready for work, so you decide to get a headstart on things and make breakfast. Mrs. Afton doesn’t look like she’d have the energy to make breakfast early on the weekend, and cooking is the least you could do. Maybe something simple so you don’t take up too many ingredients either. Maybe pancakes!-- Elizabeth would probably like that.

The kitchen is large and littered with several cabinets, but you’re able to find everything you need for pancakes, plus a package of bacon and a carton of eggs you plan to fry. It’s simple but plenty, and rolling up your sleeves, you get to work right away.

The eggs and bacon are fried in succession on another pan while you get to work on the pancakes. Flour, egg, milk – they’re poured together in a large bowl, and as you wait for the griddle to heat up, you wipe down the counters to clean any bits of stray flour that’s flown out of place.

Seeing it all come together, you actually feel quite proud of yourself. This would be payment for Michael’s tutoring and make up for your intrusion. Now to pour the batter for the last pancake and—

Click.

The front door, unlocked, now comes swinging open.

There in the doorway, with a silhouette outlined by the light of the morning sun, was a man dressed neatly in a fine suit. His purple vest and the coat hanging off his shoulders reminded you of Michael in his work uniform. Everything about him screamed Michael, really, especially once he stepped forward and the kitchen lights had brightened his face. The same dark hair. The same pale bluish grey eyes. Nearly identical facial features, but paler, and darker, and cold — cold — cold–

“And who might you be?”

Same faint accent.

Uncomfortable silence permeates throughout the room as you lock eyes with the man. There’s something unusual about him, and it’s not just the way he’s an obvious genetic duplicate of his son. It’s in the way his clothes are almost too put together for an entire night of work. In the way his silver-striped hair is similarly slick and styled back. And it’s in the way he looks at you — observing, scrutinizing, flickering. Eyes drifting from the food to you, and in particular, your neck. Like he’s debating how easy it could break—

“Well, child, are you going to answer me?”

The staring contest ends abruptly when you peel your eyes away.

“I’m Michael’s friend. From school. I stayed over to study for midterms last night.”

“I see.”

“You’re awfully trusting considering he’s not here to verify.”

“Yes, and you’re certainly a burglar who stopped to make themselves pancakes. I’m terrified. ”

He tugs the suit jacket from his shoulders and hangs it on the coat rack by the front door, as if he had just come home from a regular nine to five, not five in the morning. A gulp forces itself down your throat before you pour the batter, sleepy fog now thoroughly purged from your mind. Though you no longer look directly at him, you keep him in the corner of your eye, stiffly aware of whatever space he seeks to occupy. And unsurprisingly, he seems intent on occupying the kitchen with you.

“You know, it’s good that Michael’s been making friends,” he comments, heading for the coffee maker behind you. “Boy’s had a hard time getting along with others his age.”

“I heard.”

“You know why, then?”

“I’m not a fool, Mr. Afton. Of course I know why.”

As you go to flip the now-ready pancake, he abruptly takes the sugar from your side, making you jump. Standing like this, you’re practically trapped between him and the counter. Nowhere to go. Your heart doesn’t drop so much as it begins tugging downward like a weighted stone. Seeing the look on your face and the tension in your shoulders, his amusement is audible as he speaks, voice soothing yet visible stature alarming.

“Please, don’t bother with ‘Mr. Afton.’ It’s William. And apologies, my dear. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

You shake your head and set the spatula down once done, waiting for the other side of the pancake to brown.

“It’s fine. I guess I’m just a little jumpy since it’s so early in the morning.”

“Not used to waking up early?”

“More like I couldn’t sleep.”

He nods before continuing the earlier topic. “My son… let’s just say that he’s a wounded soul. Always been a troublemaker, that boy.”

You can’t help but scoff lightly at his words. The way Michael talks about his father already has you predisposed to taking every one of Mr. Afton’s words as bullshit. It’s not like Michael would lie about his family for attention. If that was the case, he wouldn’t have self-isolated. It would just be–

“He self-sabotages, you know? My wife and I gave him so many an opportunity. We still do. We’ve encouraged every sport, every hobby – music and art and even robotics. He’s wasted them all.”

“I wouldn’t say wasted,” you defend in a softer tone. “He’s pretty good at art. And I didn’t come here to teach him anything. He’s the one who taught me .” You pause before adding on to soften the tone of the conversation. “... I mean, that’s why I’m cooking breakfast for everyone. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, he’s smart enough, I’ll give him that. But in terms of effort? In terms of trying to get somewhere with that brain of his? Ha–”

William’s words are bile on your tongue. A part of you knows that some part of it is true, but you also know why it’s true, and that’s what really matters. Michael hates himself. Can’t you see? Can’t you tell? Do you even give a fuck? Do you even care?--

“In any case, I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure Elizabeth will be happy when she wakes up.” He pours a teaspoon of sugar into his hot coffee before backing away.

You’re about to respond when you hear Michael’s bedroom door swing open from up the stairs. Your best friend rubs his weary eyes, halfway through a yawn when he stops in his tracks, gaze landing on his father, you, then his father again.

“You’re home.”

It’s said none too warmly.

William clicks his tongue, his strides now somewhat hurried compared to before. “It’s my house, is it not?”

Wanting to defuse the situation, you raise the pan slightly from the stove as if to show Michael. “Hey– I– uh– I made breakfast for you. And Elizabeth and your mom, too, I guess, but it might be cold by the time they wake up.”

At your feeble attempt to calm things down, Michael mutters a curse under his breath before hurrying over, instantly placing himself between you and his father. Not that he actually interacts with the older man – just gives him the cold shoulder, sticking by your side. William gets the message, but while he continues to move away, it’s not exactly in the most generous manner.

“It’s time I check on Elizabeth. I’ll wake her for you, don’t worry – I’m sure she’ll love the surprise. As for myself, I’ll get to bed. Sleep the day away before I visit the new location again.” He sends Michael a toothy grin, pearly whites shining in the dark. “Have fun, you two. Henry will be managing the pizzeria tomorrow. I’m sure things will be more… relaxed that way.”

Though you stare as William leaves, you can see Michael tense even more out of the corner of your eye and instinctively move a hand to brush his. Still, you shudder. No matter how polite William had seemed, there was something inherently unnerving about him.

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispers as soon as his father’s bedroom door has closed.

“Sorry for what? He didn’t do anything.”

“Not yet. Not yet.”

[aeternallis]

Kim's Place in the Mafia: Novel vs Show

The one thing I can say without a doubt in my mind is that from the crumbs we get of Kim and Chay from the book and show, these two are obsessively in love with each other. So I'll say that now and get that squared away.

And I know, most of the fandom detest the book due to its problematic authors and will never read it, and that's completely valid. Furthermore, I will say now that the book is trash and hardly coherent at times. But as my favorite English scholar for Ancient Rome, Mary Beard, once said: "It's trash...but it's very valuable trash."

For what it's worth, reading the book at least once can provide a more nuanced understanding of why the showrunners made the changes they did in the show. The changes in and of themselves makes for a more cohesive story (SOO MUCH MORE COHESIVE), but it also goes without saying that a lot of the events in the show remain faithful to the novel, so in that regard, there is some merit to be had.

Finally, when I say the novel is "trash", I mean the narrative itself, not necessarily the translation (although it's not perfect by any means). If anything, I'm grateful for the translators who took the time to translate this novel into English, since translation is a thankless job most times in fandom (lookin' at you, MDZS). As I speak no Thai whatsoever, I can’t give an informed opinion on DAEMI's technical writing abilities, since I'm not a native speaker, nor am I the book's target audience.

But, I digress.

The more I reread the book (in all its trash glory), the more I find myself questioning Kim's views in regards to how he sees himself as part of a mafia family. 🤔

In the book, Kim is a lot more accepting of his place within the mafia, despite his initial tendencies of disappearing on his guards and staying away from the main house. In fact, that pretty much changes once Chay enters the picture.

Gotta love a Kinn who's curious about his little bro's love life. XD

Kim is firmly settled into the fold of the family business (if that scene in the secret warehouse is anything to go by) and there’s a scene in the beginning of the book where Korn obligates all 3 sons to dress up in some fancy suits and visit their chocolate factory, since he’s particularly keen on getting it off the ground. This shows that although Kinn is set to inherit (in public, at least) the other two sons still have their duties to the family.

In fact, I will say that one of the most interesting things about reading the book is finding out that Kim's sleuthing is actually canon. Lol Granted, it's sleuthing more in regards to finding the mole and not really about Korn's game plan, but sleuthing nonetheless.

But in the show, his role within the family business and how he views it are a little bit more foggy because he has his musical career to keep him occupied, besides his sleuthing into Korn’s affairs. He’s not active in the way one would typically expect a member of the mafia to be (and who knows, this may be due to limited time constraints on the part of the showrunners), but he’s active within that sphere nonetheless.

And because of this, contrary to the general fandom consensus, I never really got the impression that Kim wanted to be out of the mafia, yknow? Personally, I think it’s too big of a leap to say him moving out = him not wanting to be in the mafia. Having that sort of character motivation wouldn't really make sense either, because then we would have had stronger hints of it, I think?

At the very least, by the end of the show, Kim--just like Chay--has more reasons to stay than not. The way I see it, Kim wanting to be out of the mafia would actually somewhat contradict his actions in the show.

Despite his effort in staying away from the mansion his father and brothers live in (and later on, Chay), Kim benefits from being a Theerapanyakul. We see this in a lot of different ways: the penthouse he lives in, the cars he drives (he gets his own set of the Maserati fleet, yo), his private studio, the freedom of movement he has in being able to easily get information (although this may be debatable), using Big as a gopher.

I highly doubt his career as a young musician is maintaining his luxurious lifestyle (perhaps only a part of it, like the fame); imo, there’s a calculated reason why BOC chose to keep the level of his fame as vague as possible. The way I see it, Kim moved out and pursued music simply because, due to his unique position of being the youngest son (aka the spare), he just had the luxury to do so.

If he truly wanted out of the mafia, I'm firmly on the camp that he could have done so already. We've seen in both the show and the book that unlike Kinn who's constrained by his duties, Kim does have the freedom to disappear, even to the point that it's to his detriment at times. Lol

Maybe I can go even further, and suggest that perhaps the reason he chose to move out is to get a better vantage point of the circumstances surrounding his father's schemes and the ongoing tides of power. Kinda like, he has to move away from the trees, in order to see the entire forest.

I wouldn't go so far as to say he wants power for himself (although this idea would be fun to entertain, especially within the context that he now has Chay in his life to protect), but again, being a member (a high-ranking one, at that) of the Theerapanyakul family benefits him in a lot of different ways.

In one of BOC's interviews and then in Jeff's goodbye message during the last KPWT, he mentioned something about Pond changing up Kim's character in order to make Jeff Satur shine. Idk about y'all, but that's quite a touching gesture, and one I definitely approve of, whilst I get a better understanding of the similarities and differences between novel!Kim and show!Kim. It's obvious from the show that besides changing Kim's maturity level and changing his image from a fuck boi to a cool prince, giving him a passion for music definitely humanized him and served as a way to balance out the other two love stories.

But be that as it may, although we the audience don't know as to what extent Pond changed Kim's character to better fit the story, at the very least maintaining Kim's position as a legitimate contender in the politics of the mafia world remains consistent in both the book and show.

Whether that observation lines up with the idea that he wants out of the mafia though, is entirely up to you. XD

[rurilamb]

NaRuLamb thoughts

{Disclaimer of sorts: I read a post with a very similar plot to the following musings, just with a different fandom. It made quite the impression on me. I thought it fit quite well for NaRuLamb, so I sort of adopted it and adapted it to better fit within the CotL universe/relationships}

Imagine a scenario based around the three of them, and its got a lot of yearning and one-sided attraction (for a while). A big slow-burn. Narinder hangs around Lamb and Ruri, and romantic attraction slowly begins to occur. But Narinder becomes closer to Ruri, while Lamb is left trying to win Narinder over himself. Narinder is not used to affection or most personal relationships, but he has more respect for Ruri than he does for Lamb (because of usurping him).

Narinder is still so bitter and upset, he finds it hard to allow Lamb the chance to win him over, but at the same time, he's developing an interest in Ruri, who's already married to Lamb. Lamb and Ruri are both happily together, but they have no problem allowing Narinder into their lives. But Lamb feels left out, and he feels hurt and guilty because Narinder needs extra time to warm up to him after the things he did. So Lamb tries his best to work on himself, and allow Narinder to open up to him naturally, but he goes through various moments of loneliness and confusion because he's doing what he can to show Narinder he truly cares about him... but Narinder struggles to show his own affections. Even with Ruri, Narinder finds it very difficult, but at least they're on friendly terms. They can maintain polite greetings and conversations with each other.

Lamb finds himself seeking out Narinder’s attention. Narinder does not normally come to him, like he does with Ruri. Lamb longs for that, he wants to know the man who he's so smitten with, and who's grown to love his wife, but not him. Lamb can tell that Narinder avoids him unless close interaction is necessary, or Narinder wants to ruffle his wool a bit in his typical rude and creepy fashion. He realizes that Narinder’s feelings towards him are much more complicated than he initially anticipated, even if Narinder eventually accepts his life in the cult, he can’t forget Lamb’s betrayal.

Narinder is distant and quiet. He's introverted and not sociable. His body language screams, "I need space," and “Don’t talk to me.” Like a shy animal who doesn't trust easily (which is essentially what he is). Ruri supports and comforts Lamb.

She knows he’s sad and wants to have Narinder’s love. What Narinder can’t (yet) give to Lamb, She tries to give to him instead. And Lamb loves her deeply. He loves and cherishes her. He simply wants Narinder to be a part of their lives too.

[tagidearte]

"Pongo, the Imp Clown. Some say he used to be a Star, others say that's just his delusional ramblings." -Original Character for a (so far) unnamed Original Story.

I'm still in the early stages of designing him and his "friend" Pinga. However, I decided to share these initial drafts regardless! This way someone other than me can join in on the character design journey! Let's see how much he changes until the final design! Thoughts below.

Concept Log #1 - Pongo

Aka I want to ramble and my friends don't care robot clowns. Really big rambly rant below.

Also no, this is not a d/ca oc. Trust me, making a robot clown/jester is like walking into a laser trap when you've been obsessing over those two for the past three years. The only d/ca inspiration here was making Pongo warm coloured and Pinga cool coloured. If anything, this was more inspired by the Funtimes.

For now, I hate all the outfits. They don't fit his vibe, his personality, his whole persona. He's an imp clown, but he has... Delusions of grandeur. I need to make him more princely, perhaps? I'll attempt that next time. I already have the chibi base, so it'll be relatively quick.

I also want to make his casing... Different. Either paler with pink shadows, or a darker, more solid pink. He's meant to have only warm colours, contrasting with Pinga (you'll see him some other time) who only has cold ones, so no blues or greens... But I must say. Darker pink will probably win. When I painted his face white it looked too much like a Slay Button En/nard. In fact, I added all that eye and lip makeup to make him look less like En/nard.

The coil torso is the most important part. On a final drawing I'll make it have more loops, which should give the impression the thing is stronger and capable of more powerful bounces (which can hurt you if he decides to launch) - but for these concepts I merely half assed it. The star shaped hat with the back cone coming out is my favourite part!

Hope you enjoy his star shaped nipple coverings as much as I did coming up with them! Originally (not pictured here) he was going to have a big star on his chest, to mimic what I see in a lot of jack in a box's boxes. But the nipple coverings were so raunchy and funny, yet still appropriate for younger audiences (in world), that I left them in. Him being a reformed villain (in the media he's built after, inside the world) allows for messing around with the makeup and eccentricity, but we can't go to far - he needs to look PG while being predominantly adult/teen entertainment as an amusement park bot.

For context... Ever since I got into FN4F I've wanted to do something similar - with a location and mascots -, but instead of an USA animal band, I wanted it to be based on a cartoon set in a magical forest (like Noddy from my childhood - with a city of living toys and two imps that lived in the eViL wOoDs-, but funny for all ages rather than so 5 year old centric). Overtime, the thought of sentient robots forced to work - objects that were given a soul, trapped in a synthetic shell that is their body, dependent on humanity and property to it despite technically being alive, easy to manipulate via some changes in code - wormed itself in.

But I never really had the proper setting or characters for it. That, and I have another original story that has plagued my dreams ever since I was 12/13.

Until now.

I won't go into setting details yet. Let me just say Pinga and Pongo are a ping pong pun, because they both bob up and down with coils - Pongo on his torso, which makes him kind of like a jack in a box; and Pinga on his legs, which allows him to jump really high. They are based on cartoon characters that exist in world, from a movies series that ended up with a cartoon too, sort of like disney stuff but... Not disney. The entire mythos of that company's content takes place in one single world/franchise, it just explores different parts of it with each new series/movie/game.

Pongo is an egomaniac, programmed the be flirty to adults, who struggles on the line between property and self. He used to give a lot of trouble to the park, because his AI allowed him to learn new tricks rather quickly... and most weren't really all that safe or appropriate. So, time and time again, he got sent back to fix it. Having his "brain" messed with has made him deeply afraid of not behaving like a machine, which clashes with how self pleasing he is - you just don't realize it at first, because he's programmed to be a flirty little demon with an attitude. It's just that his real attitude is much more... intense.

Let's see if posting this online makes me not put the project aside too quickly lmao.

[max1u3]

Blackwatch timeline

Ok, so, bear with me, this is going to take a lot of little points for me to peace together to make the bigger picture here.

So, we know that Gabriel Reyes worked as a police officer and was know for arresting lots of criminals, but then he didn't find his work having any sort of impact of the criminal rate and figured that to destroy crime he had to cut it off at the source, correct?

And he was born in 2018, making his 58 in the current (Overwatch) year of 2076. We also know the Omnic crisis started exactly 30 years ago, when he was 28.

Then (If we're going with the earliest years possible for everything) Overwatch was founded a year later and he was put in charge of Overwatch as Strike Commander when he was 29.

If we're approximating that the Omnic Crisis lasted about 3 ish years, then he was 32 when it ended and his Command was switched to Blackwatch.

He was 32 when Blackwatch was created!

The sting operation that resulted in Jesse McCree (or Cole Cassidy whatever you want to call him) joining Blackwatch took place when McCree was 17. Which leads me to the question of who was Gabriel Reyes even working with on missions before hand? Did he have a strike squad before he picked up Jesse McCree?

We also know there's about ten years age difference between Gabriel Reyes and Jesse McCree, which means McCree was 12 when Blackwatch was formed.

And Genji joined Blackwatch in 2066, which is only 10 years prior. Making Gabriel Reyes 48 and Jesse McCree 38. That is a huge age gap and what do we even know about what happened during that time?

Roughly a year or so later we know that Gabriel Reyes invites Moira into Blackwatch and she starts her experiments on him? But like, we know nothing about these experiments, only what they did. And if the short story 'Code of Violence' is being added into the mix, then we're led to believe that the initial experiments that Moira conducted on him did not have as dramatic effect. I don't really know what that entails, but it could mean that he could mist and move around a little bit, but was otherwise a full man. In the 'Code of Violence' short story it's mentioned that Moira is the one to find Gabriel Reyes after the explosion of the Overwatch facility, and to 'save' his life she pumped him full of the chemicals she used in her prior experiments, the results being Reaper. It meant his body became more mist like and he had to concentrate on being a full man almost every moment of the day, it also meant he was in constant pain and his anger was harder and harder to control. He also started to find gratification in the more gruelling and cruel acts. Or at least that was the impression I got from the story. But my point is, the most we have referencing the experiments Moira conducted on Gabriel Reyes are this picture:

And a paragraph or two in the story 'Code of Violence' which more focuses on his internal struggles immediately after the incident.

Then, (getting back on track, that was a bit of rant sorry) we know the Venice incident took place 8 years ago, when Gabriel Reyes kills Antonio Bartalotti and reveals Blackwatch to the world, and putting it under the investigation of Jack Morrison, Gérard Lacroix and Ana Amari. As seen in the end scenes of Retribution and in the photo below:

We also know that somewhere in between the next two years Genji moves from the Blackwatch divison to the Overwatch strike team including Tracer, Mercy and Winston. We also know that his cybernetics have been updated in this time. But, I'm not entirly confident on the idea that he was moved to Overwatch from Blackwatch, there's nothing that we know (or I've found) that supports that idea, other than him appearing in the Overwatch strike team during the Storm Rising archives mission and his updated cybernetics.

Then, 6 years ago the Overwatch Swiss HQ is blown up and Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison are presumed dead. The Petras act is ratified and Overwatch is disbanded.

A lot of investigation is put into Overwatch and Blackwatch's activities between the time period of the Retribution achieves mission and the Petras act's ratification. Which is a time period of roughly 2 years.

My point is, there are huge gaps in the timeline and not all the information is concrete, a lot of it is inferred from what we have. (Blizzard I beg give us more lore).

There's the 5 years between Blackwatch being founded and McCree being bought into the organisation, where we know next to nothing.

Then there's 21 years between McCree and Genji joining Blackwatch. What happened in those 21 years? Surely there are some important events to note in 21 years?

The later years of Blackwatch are less murky, but there's still no solid dates or years being handed to us by Blizzard and it's been 7 years! I mean come on! All the dates and ages I used in this are drawn from the Overwatch Timeline on the fandom Wiki, and those are only approximations that make sense with the ages we've been given for the current game.

Anyway, I just wanted to complain about this because I feel like I don't hear enough people complaining about it. It's probably the same for Overwatch, but at least we have more of an idea what the Overwatch organisation was like. We roughly know that there were a lot more foot soldiers than Blackwatch had, at least that's what I thought was implied every time it was bought up or featured. It's easier to fill in the gaps between the years as general peace keeping, but Blackwatch was supposed to handle the more rogue missions (Can't really think of a better word for it). There's only so much guessing and filling in we can do Blizzard!

If you read this far thank you, you're a real one.

[imtrashraccoon]

Gah! You guys were so awesome on my previous two posts. It was a huge surprise to wake up to this morning! So here is the next one, enjoy!

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day

Day 3: Scarfs

Frisk seemed to really like Doomfanger. As the days went by, you often woke up to find the cat had somehow squished herself between you and Frisk on the couch. Her purring was what woke you up every time as a result of Frisk just drenching her with attention. It was a good thing you weren't allergic to cats but getting all of her fur off your clothes was nigh impossible.

Today had been no different and after breakfast, Frisk had gone hunting for her again. They'd found a piece of string somewhere and got her to chase it across the living room. You couldn't help but chuckle watching their combined antics. Deciding to leave them alone for a bit, you wandered into the kitchen to get a drink of water.

Papyrus was washing up the breakfast dishes and by the look of his uniform, he was probably heading out on patrol as soon as he was done. Rather than continue on your initial quest, you hesitated for a moment in the entryway of the kitchen, silently watching him work.

You had slightly mixed feelings about him, well, you felt that way about both brothers actually. While neither brother had been openly hostile towards you or Frisk, they had been rather passive or cold at best. This was pretty normal though, considering how rocky your first meeting had gone and how different their personalities were from your own.

Yet, you couldn't help but wonder if there was something between you and Papyrus. While it was hard to tell what he was thinking or feeling since he didn't exactly have conventional facial expressions like humans did, he had been much kinder than you expected. He checked to make sure both you and Frisk were doing alright, as well as acting like a good host, making you feel welcome in his home, even if he was still a bit distant.

Papyrus must've sensed you watching him because he suddenly turned halfway around and spotted you. "Is Everything Alright?" he asked quietly.

You felt your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment and glanced away. "Yeah, we're alright. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare at you like that..." You rubbed the back of your neck and chewed your lower lip slightly.

"Apology Accepted." Papyrus returned to his current task, apparently unbothered.

You entered the kitchen and got a glass out of the cupboard. Quickly filling it from the tap, you leaned up against the counter and sipped at it.

"I do really like your uniform by the way. It legitimately looks really cool on you, especially your scarf," you commented, focusing on the remaining water in your glass while you spoke.

Out of the corner of your eye, you thought Papyrus smiled slightly at that. He didn't say anything for a moment, but you hadn't really been looking for a conversation and had just wanted to clear the air.

"I Made It Myself," he finally said as he finished washing the last pan.

"Really? That's pretty impressive," you responded and glanced over at him again.

Papyrus dried his hands and pulled his long gloves back on. "Well, Mostly By Myself. I Bought The Materials And Then Put It All Together."

"Can I touch it?"

Papyrus studied you before nodding. "Go For It."

Setting your glass on the counter, you moved closer to him and lightly ran your fingers over the tattered edges of the end of his scarf. It was way softer than you'd expected, almost like cotton, but thicker than any similar garments you'd felt before.

"It's sort of like the texture of cotton, but not? What's it made from?" you asked curiously.

Papyrus tilted his skull thoughtfully. "I Am Not Familiar With Cotton, Since We Do Not Get A Lot Of Human Clothing Down Here. We Make Our Own Textiles From Various Materials Like Plant Fibers, Fur, Or Hair. There Is Also Spider Silk, Although It Is Rather Pricey So Most Are Not Able To Afford It."

He chuckled and added, "However, I Am Not Most People And As You Can See, I Spared No Expense. Besides The Obvious Softness, Cloth Made From Spider Silk Is Much More Durable Than Other Materials."

Your eyes widened with surprise and you examined his scarf slightly closer. "No way... That's so cool! I would love to have something made from spider silk, but it just isn't feasible on the surface."

Papyrus smiled at your enthusiasm. "I Imagine It Is Not, Considering There Are Only A Few Spiders That Supply Silk For The Entire Underground."

He left for work not long after the conversation ended, although the it seemed to have put him in a good mood which made you happy. You were genuinely impressed that spider silk could be that soft and a small part of you was really tempted to "temporarily borrow" his scarf at some point to try it out for yourself.

(Edit: Second last one I swear! @scrambledmeggys )

[dandelionterminal]

when they have a plus size s/o pt. 3

where Heizou falls in love with your brain and Tighnari can't seem to get enough of you. tags: plus size, fluff, hurt/comfort, insecure reader, jealousy, not beta read pronouns: they/them once in Tighnari's, 3rd person characters: Shikanoin Heizou, Tighnari (separate)

begins below cut

~you braved the storm, welcome to Inazuma~

Heizou: where the flirtatious detective proves his love beyond a reasonable doubt. Heizou is a known flirt, but with you it is different. You work with him on a case and you expect it to end there, but he keeps coming to your work and even gets jealous and protective of you. 

Total words: 1011

Heizou is known to flirt with people in order to achieve his ends and you figured it was the same for his flirting with you

You agree to help him with a case and expect him to disappear once the case is solved, but he keeps coming around

He is intrigued by you and your ability to see through lies 

He falls in love with your mind and intellect before your body

He does not see why you would be insecure, he adores you

Once you start dating, he loves to initiate PDA, much to your dismay

Loves embarrassing you, he lives for reactions

When you first came to Inazuma City, you wandered a bit before finding a home at the restaurant by a big sakura tree. Kiminami restaurant was known for its strange pizza delicacy that the traveler had introduced the owner to. After working there for a while you earned a reputation as the sweet, plump person who had a dazzling smile. 

When Heizou first came to Kiminami he was there to get details for a case. A customer who had eaten there had gone missing under suspicious circumstances and he wanted to dig details out of you. He sat down on a stool and began to chat you up. He ordered a glass of water and a bowl of soba noodles, all the while talking to you about nothing and everything. As you tended to your other customers he began to pry into you. 

“So what sort of people come here? Other than myself of course,” Heizou asked. You raised an eyebrow at him. He was suspicious, in your eyes. People came to the restaurant for small talk, but not this much small talk. The small talk was usually brief, they got their food, and then they would go quiet and then leave. This guy would not shut his trap. It was like he could talk to a wall. 

“Um… anyone and everyone come to eat here. What are you trying to find out?” you asked. You were perceptive to his strange, leading questions. 

Heizou didn’t show it, but he was impressed by your perception skills. Most people, especially customer service workers, in his experience would be distracted by work and just give up any information that he wanted. But you were not lost in the trance of routine and work, you were awake and clever. 

“Oh nothing, my dear. I’m just making conversation,” he answered with a smile, his eyes closed. “Can’t a guy ask a question?” 

You shrugged. “You can ask all you like, but that does not mean that I am going to give you the answer you are digging for. At least not without something in return,” you answer. 

Heizou was intrigued by this. “Oh my. So forward of you,” he said with a wink and shine in his eyes. 

You blushed faintly. “Not forward, mister, just know my worth.”

“Well, that is an intriguing trait. What did you have in mind, for the return of course,” he asked

“Nothing much,” you said, “maybe some mora. But most importantly I want to know why you want this info you are seeking.”

Heizou chuckled, “so you’re interested in my work, hm? Fine. Give me my info, I’ll tell you what I am working on.”

You hummed, tapping your chin dramatically as if thinking hard about your next move. “How about instead we trade back and forth?” you suggested, “that way neither of us is cheated.” 

“Oh you are clever,” he said. “Fine, sit down then.” He gestured to the empty seat next to him. You took a seat, ready to learn all there was to know about this strange man.

-

After you agreed to help Heizou on his case, living for the thrill of it, Heizou would come by each day around lunch to ask more questions about his suspect. It became a routine and you both became fond of each other. Despite your better judgment you began to have feelings for the squirrelly doushin. You let yourself have a faint spark of hope that maybe he liked you back as well. I mean, he did keep coming back didn't he? And the two of you talked about more than just the case. He would ask you how you feeling, if you had eaten, what your favorite things were… How could someone not fall for that kind of person? He was flirtatious but had a good heart deep inside. 

But then his case ended. He’d caught the perp, which meant he would stop coming by.

Or so you thought. He kept coming. He kept showing up at the same time every day. You were surprised, but you didn’t tell him that. 

“You won’t believe it y/n,” he said one day as he came into the restaurant. You looked up from where you were wiping a table for a customer who had spilled their drink. Your outfit sagged off your shoulder as you did so. 

“Oh Shikanoin, welcome in,” you said as you finished cleaning, turning to your patron and smiling at them. “There you go sir, I’ll get you a fresh drink,” you said and turned to get a new drink for the man. 

Heizou glowered at the man and followed you. “Y/n,” he said, “that man is drooling over you.”

You stopped him as he tried to walk into the back of the shop. “Shikanoin we’ve talked about this. You can’t come into the back of the shop,” you said, holding up your hand to his chest. “And he so is not into me,” you defended, tugging your sleeve to cover your shoulder. “No one would be.”

“There you go again,” he said. “How can you not see how dreamy you are?” 

“And there you go again. Archons, if you think I’m so dreamy why don’t you date me?” you asked in exasperation. 

“I would but you’re out of my league,” he said in a deadpan tone. 

That gave you pause. You stopped pouring the man’s sake and turned to Heizou. “Don’t joke like that, it’s cruel,” you said, trying to keep the tears out of your eyes. 

“Why would I joke about that with you?” he said, stepping towards you. He put a hand on your chin to tilt your head to meet his eyes. “I know how you look at me, did you think I wouldn’t notice?” With each word his lips got closer to yours, “And you’re smart enough to know how I look at you,” he said, a breath away from your lips. He waited for you to close the gap. 

And when you did, the greatest mystery of all was solved. 

~Sumeru, don't forget to dream~

Tighnari: where foxes mate for life and he wants to have you all his life. When you first come to Avidya forest as a researcher you don’t expect to fall for the fox man who runs the place. But you do. When you go on your first trek and end up injured and sick, Tighnari nurses you back to health over several weeks. 

Starting off he thinks you’re lazy and clumsy

He doesn’t think you’re stupid like most of the Akademia, but you are annoying to him

But after spending time with you he starts to like you

Your comedy is on par with Cyno’s and he doesn’t like that so much but he can overlook it

He likes to hold you in his arms 

Forehead kisses if you’re shorter than him

He is a tease so be prepared for that

Total words: 1361

Avidya forest was hot and humid. And it was always like that. It was like an eternal hot spring. And it was not easy on the human body. But it is where mushrooms thrived. You trudged through the rainforest, a flask of water sloshing on your waist, a notepad and pencil jingling on the other side, and a heavy backpack clanking on your back. You didn’t know whose bright idea it was to send the least athletic of the dormant fungi researchers into the forest but here you were, climbing hills and swatting bugs off your skin. You were on your way to the village of Gandharva Ville where you were told a former scholar lived. You sighed as you settled to rest on a set of stairs at the foot of a large tree house. From above you, you heard a crude and indignant voice shout down at you. 

“Um, excuse me? That is where people walk, you laze about,” the voice said. You looked up to see a man with fox ears on the top of his head. A large bushy tail swished behind him as his bicolored eyes glared down at you. You stood up frantically, hands clasped in front of yourself. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered out, intimidated by the confident fox man in front of you, “I’m a researcher from Amurta,” you explained. “I’m looking for a master Tighnari, I was told to find him to get my research mission approved.” 

He raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re y/n? I was told you would be coming. Come up here, laze about, show me this research.” 

You followed him up the stairs and into a cabin. He gestured for you to sit. You pulled your backpack off your back and pulled out a file folder of papers and materials and meticulously sorted. “I’m here to research the Rukkha­sha­va mushroom and its potential spiritual connections. I think the layers of the mushroom hold the potential to heal spiritual and mental ailments,” you explained. 

He hummed as he skimmed over your research. “Quite whimsical,” he said, “but the chemical makeup you break down here does make sense. You can stay here while you research. But don’t wander into a withering zone, and do not eat any wild mushrooms.”

You blinked at him. “Do you think I’m an idiot?” you asked. He sounded like he was talking to a toddler. 

“You would be surprised by the idiocy of some of the Akademia scholars I have encountered,” he replied. He stood and offered his hand. 

You squinted at him. “I don’t doubt it but I am not stupid promise,” you take his offered hand, stand, and sling your bag back on your shoulders. You continue to give him quizzical eyes and head off into the forest. The sun was still high in the sky, the day was young, and you could spend the time finding a spot in the forest and setting up camp. 

You set out to a spot deep in the forest, where no human influence could be seen. You had made it far away from the village, so far only the sound of fungi dancing in the moonlight could be heard. You shucked off your pack and set up a tent on some level ground and began stoking a fire. Come daylight you would head to higher ground to inspect some trees to see if the mushrooms were prevalent at lower elevations. 

-

Tighnari was restless. That researcher from Amurta hadn’t come back yet. It had been three days. Sure, some treks into the forests were long and arduous, but this was unusual. Maybe he had offended you horribly by calling you a laze about. He was about to organize a search party when Collei burst through the door. “Master Tighnari!” she shouted, panting and out of breath. 

“Collei what is wrong? Slow down and breathe!” He lightly scolded. 

“There isn’t time! Y/n came back… and they’re bleeding!” she shouted. Tighnari rushed out, calling out orders to Collei and he ran. 

When he reached you he saw you were practically unconscious, a large gash on your arm that you had haphazardly wrapped a shirt around. The shirt was soaked in crimson and your lips were pale. That wasn’t the only injury. There was a large cut to your head that you had clearly hit. 

“What happened?” He hastily asked you as he began to quickly wrap you in blankets that Collei brought to him. 

You chuckled dryly and coughed. “I was climbing up a tree to reach a mushroom-” you choked out. 

“How high up?” He asked. 

You grimaced. “High.” 

He sighed loudly. “Alright,” he said, standing to his full height. “Collei, I need some water and a stretcher,” he shouted over his shoulder. “We need to start cleaning the wounds.”

And with that the village went to work, rushing around you like a hoard of ants. 

-

That day went by in a blur. People rushing in and out, Tighnari shoveling tonics and concoctions in you to help you recover, Tighnari cleaning and wrapping your wounds and mending your bones, the day turned to night and you drifted in and out of consciousness. 

You woke up the next morning to Tighnari at your bedside redressing the wound on your arm. He looked up, sensing the shift in your breathing, and squinted at you. “More lucid this morning?” he asked. 

You squinted back at him. “I assume so,” you said. “What’s the verdict, doc? Am I not long for this world?” you joked. 

He scoffed. “Your sense of humor is on par with Cyno’s,” he said. “No, but you broke your arm and lost a lot of blood. And we don’t have a healer out here, so you’re stuck under my care until you are well.” 

You frowned. “I guess it could be worse,” you replied. “Sorry to be a burden.” “Don’t climb trees next time,” he scolded. He stood. “Don’t be such a lummox,” and with that, he left, tail swaying behind him. 

-

Over the next few weeks you got into a routine. You would wake, have a light breakfast, and Tighnari would come redress your wounds. During that time you two would talk about anything and everything. It started out lightly. He would ask how you’re feeling and you would reciprocate, asking how he was. Then it shifted as he noticed things about you. He would ask about your other hobbies outside of the Akademia. You would indulge him in his. You would joke with him and dig information out of him. He became gentler with you over time. And you started to look forward to seeing him. You would take all his time away, talking nonstop about anything. One time he even kissed your forehead. Before long your arm was healed and you were set to go back to the Akademia. 

You were putting you backpack on your shoulders when he came in. Just like any other day he came in with a bowl of clean water and fresh bandages. He stopped when he saw you, freezing in his tracks. 

“Oh,” he said. “That’s right. You’re meant to go home today.”

You smiled. “Yep. I overstayed my welcome as it is,” you said. 

He frowned at that. “You’re welcome here anytime, laze about.” 

Your heart skipped a beat and you flushed. You shook your head at him. “Nope I need to get going before people get the wrong idea about us. I stayed too long, I’ve been well enough to travel for a while now.”

His frown deepened. “Wrong idea how?”

You laughed. “You know… I know there is no way you could be attracted to me, I mean I’m annoying and oversized, but other people don’t know that. They just see someone staying and occupying all of your time.” 

He sighed. “Y/n, you’re not annoying. I like spending time with you.” He stepped closer. “And don’t you know… my kind mate for life.”

You frowned. “I’m not your mate though.”

“Oh, but you can be,” he said, setting down his supplies and taking you in his arms. “All you have to do is stay.”

[joeyquinndrabz]

Inked- Joseph Quinn x Reader

TW: none im trying to give you guys a break from the angst I have in my drafts 😭

Being a tattoo artist was a dream you’d had since you were a kid. Your friends would laugh and tell you to ‘get real’ but you knew it’s what you wanted to do and so you did. Your grandfather was a tattoo artist in London and became highly respected by the whole city, everyone wanted a tattoo from your grandfather and so did you. When you were 18, he gave you your first tattoo after years of pestering. His talent was impeccable and his art was your inspiration. You soon began an apprenticeship at his shop and , it must be in the genes, because you’re very good at it too. Of course you were aware of the privilege you had due to your grandads high status, but it didn’t mean you didn’t have to work hard. It took years of practice to get to the level you’re at now, but being 28 and working alongside your 68 year old grandad was the gift that kept on giving. His guidance was still so important to you and your relationship was unbreakable. He wasn’t your stereotypical elder male tattoo artist, his style was still the same as it had been in the 70s. Checkered button ups, flares, docs and a very impressive moustache. He was ridiculously cool, your grandma was the same. A stylish woman with a blue rinse on her grey hair and she was always sporting a pair of new glasses. She worked on the front desk, greeting each client with a smile and being the first point of contact to ease that anxiety many of them had. It was a family run business and a great one at that.

It’d been a busy day, it was a Saturday and you’d tattooed a lot of people and a lot of different things. You were getting ready to pack up when your Grandfather could be heard chuckling out in the corridor. There were two different male voices that followed and curiosity killed the cat, you wanted to find out more.

“Ahh this is my wonderful granddaughter I’ve been talking about. She’ll enjoy this one lads.” He chuckled at the two mystery men as he pulled you in for a side hug. “Enjoy what?” You questioned, smiling at the two strangers. “It’s slightly embarrassing but we got very drunk and stick and picked out initials onto each others feet but they’re not looking the best.” One of them told you, you noticed the curtains he was sporting and the slight permanent smirk that was stuck on his face. “Yeah not our brightest idea.” The other man laughed, you noticed something different with this one. He was looking directly at you, admiring your tattoos with each passing of his eyes. It was cute. He was cute.

“Let’s get you lads sorted, I’ll do yours Wesley and Y/N can do Joe’s. I won’t make you do them both kiddo you’ve been here since 6.” Your grandad aimed the last bit at you, you smiled and nodded before taking Joe into your part of the studio.

“I’m really sorry about this, I didn’t know you’d been here that long. I’m more than happy to get it fixed another day.” The man who you now knew as Joe was rambling and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Honestly it’s fine, if you were coming in for a back piece then I would’ve said otherwise but I’m sure we can fix this in no time.” You smiled at him as you handed him the consent forms. “Do people genuinely come in last minute for things like that?” He asked whilst signing all the needed paperwork. “You’d be surprised, we don’t actually do walk ins but my grandads had a rule that if he likes your ‘vibe’ then he’ll allow it in some cases.” This caught Joes attention, looking up at you from the clipboard to give you a massive smile that you could only assume was because he’d realised he met your grandads criteria. “He’s a cool man.” Joe continued to smile as he handed you the papers back. “He’s my favourite discussion point, the man’s a walking, talking 70s masterpiece.” You laughed and soon heard him joining in with you. “I’d kill to have him as my grandad, you’re very lucky.” Joe was admiring the art on the walls, walking closer to his favourites then standing back with a tilted head to take it all in. “I’m forever grateful for him, he’s the reason I do what I do.” You smiled to yourself, getting ready to fix the drunken scribble on his foot. “Looks like you’re pretty bloody good at it too, love.” He turned to face you, admiration on his face. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.” You shyly smiled back before asking him all the boring questions required.

Joe was now sat on the tattoo bed, showing you the tattoo in all its glory. “I mean.” You tried to find the words but struggled with a chuckle.

“Yeah I know I think Wes was shaking a little bit.” Joe grimaced before laughing with you. “It’s an easy fix don’t worry, are you okay for me to start?” You asked, in a weird way hoping he’d say no so you had more time to talk to him and hear more about his life. But he was ready, he told you he was more than ready and watched you as you got to work.

“You ok?” Looking up from the W and to Joe, you’d expected him to flinch or say something about the pain but he didn’t. Instead his face was plastered with a picture perfect smile. “Peachy keen darlin’.”

You were aware of the blush spreading on your face so got back to fixing the W and soon you had finished, wiping it down and wrapping it up.

“There we are, all finished.” You beamed and watched as Joe admired it in the mirror. “It’s perfect, thank you so much.” He mirrored your expression, happy there was now some symmetry to his drunken decision. “You’re more than welcome, grandad will sort out the payment and everything when Wesley’s finished.” You explained as you began cleaning up your station.

Soon the pair were at the front desk, paying for their tattoos and laughing with your grandad. You were still cleaning up so hadn’t realised they’d left due to your fixation on making the studio ready for you tomorrow morning.

“Knock,knock.” Your grandad announced his presence and walked in with a massive grin on his face. “What’s got you smiling so wide?” You laughed at his animated demeanour as he slowly approached you with his hands behind his back. He sat on the bench and smirked, before pulling his hands from his back to reveal a piece of paper and five £20 notes. “You got a big tip and a new admirer.” He laughed before handing you the money and the note. “But it was a tiny tattoo?” You were in shock, complete and utter shock.

“Read the note.” Your grandad pressed, leaning forward in anticipation. “Grandad!” You exclaimed,laughing at his eagerness. “Oh Cmon kiddo I’m dying over here.” He laughed back.

You opened the note and scanned the page with your eyes, a smile growing after each letter.

I’m sorry if this is totally inappropriate and i completely understand if you rip this up but just wanted to say I really enjoyed getting tattooed by you today and I’d love to get to know you more. Here’s my number, again I’m sorry if this isn’t appropriate I just think you’re pretty incredible and I’d love to get to know you more.

The tip is because you’re a brilliant artist and I hope you treat yourself with it and get something to help ease the stress of today.

All the best,

Joe

XXX

You grabbed your phone and copied the number into your phone immediately, passing your grandad the note before going outside to ring Joe.

“Hello?” He answered, anxiety evident in his voice.

“I’m leaving here in 10 minutes, fancy sharing a couple glasses of wine with that tip?” You had no idea where this confidence had emerged from but nether the less you were extremely thankful for it.

“Darlin’ that’d be a dream.”

[brighterdaysarebeforeus]

This went…slightly off the rails, I think. I really only wanted to put a quick reference to the whole Mumbatten scene and ended up…rewriting it. Again. (>.<) god, that’s embarrassing. Anyway, enjoy!

Part 1 here

The whole ‘canon events must happen to all Spiders’ debacle that Miguel set off lasted a lot longer than Miles was expecting. Time stretched differently across the multiverse, which he hadn’t known or been expecting,and which had thrown him off of his semi-regular cycle. All this to say that when he finally went back home, it was the nearly four months from his initial leave date (the day of the block party and his dad’s promotion), he was still battered and bruised from several different fights (starting with O’Hara and, ironically, ending with O’Hara), he still actually had to fight the Spot (who had landed back in regular 1610 New York approximately two minutes before Miles did, that was kinda lucky, right?), and the cherry to top it all off, he’d missed his rut and could already feel it —

Wait, wait wait wait. Wait. Let’s back up.

So Gwen finally found a way to visit, and showed up the day before his dad’s official promotion. They hung out for a bit, and then Miles realized that she’d had an ulterior motive for coming to his dimension. Which, weirdly enough, had to do more with the Spot than him. When she pulled up communication with an unfamiliar woman who’d sent her to a different dimension to catch the Spot, Miles made a split second decision to go after her.

Finding himself in Mumbatten was…an experience. He thought that having different dimension Spiders in his New York would be as different as things could get, but he was…very wrong.

Mumbatten was loud. Yes, New York could also get loud, but not this way. There were people everywhere talking in Indian. Scooters with more people on them than they were designed to hold, Indian music playing nearly everywhere. Traffic was similar enough, surprisingly, but there were more clotheslines than Miles had been expecting, and the buildings were shaped differently. It was an entirely different sort of beauty than Miles knew from his own New York, but it was still breathtakingly beautiful, and the Spider who protected it was no different.

Pavitr was bright and funny, and Miles liked him almost instantly. He didn’t particularly care for how fast he clocked his crush on Gwen, and Gwen clearly hadn’t expected the younger Spider to point it out so blatantly. Still, Miles was down for helping Pavitr as much as he could, considering how long the kid had been Spider Man for (seriously, six months and the kid got a watch?? Miles thought he’d been doing a great job at being Spider Man, he’d been doing it for over a year on his own, why couldn’t he get one?) and considering the Spot had initially come from his universe anyway.

Also, and Miles in no way ever wanted Pavitr to figure this out, his alpha instincts kicked in around him almost immediately. He wanted to protect this (apparently beta) Spider he barely knew, keep bad things from happening to him and his world. And, honestly, that meant following both him and Gwen to Mumbatten AlcheMax, despite his sporadic glitching, to help stop the Spot. He’d tried to show off, tried to display to Gwen and Pavitr a new trick he was working on, and though he’d just nearly had it working —

Omega pinged on his senses, and before Miles could even try to figure out what was going on, there was an additional Spider.

He was tall and thin, and Miles felt himself going haywire in the rush to protectprotectprotectprotect this brand new person he didn’t even know, this omega who quite literally came out of nowhere. He turned to Gwen instead, slightly indignant when she clearly knew this new Spider, and feeling his instincts to impress flare up when Pavitr thanked this new Spider for breaking the barrier he’d been trying to break. Not only that, but then! Then, this new Spider gave Miles advice on how to do better next time, and also implied that Gwen, an alpha, spent the night at his, the omega’s, place recently.

It was a lot. It was a lot for Miles, especially in the middle of a fight, and a fight with the Spot to boot. He tried to show off where he could, but it wasn’t working like he hoped it would. Because of Spot, of course, not because of anything else. Miles wasn’t even sure who he was trying to impress at this point; on the one hand, there was Gwen, who he’d had a crush on since she’d introduced herself as ‘Gwanda’ and he’d stuck his hand to her hair on accident (the way she’d physically snapped her compact mirror shut and later verbally snapped at him about her new haircut had made his blood boil in the best way).

And on the other hand…

Look, Miles had been focused on Gwen, kind of. Hung up on her, on one of the only other people his age he’d known who would understand the dangers and risks and rewards of being a Spider. He never really cared to make overtures at others in his universe, omega or otherwise. As far as he’d been concerned, Gwen had been the be-all, end-all.

But now Hobie. Hobie, with his spiked mask, his vest, with his pink outline every time Miles got close, with his guitar and his boots and that super enticing omega scent he kept catching whiffs of…Miles found himself trying to show off for him even as he tried to poke holes in the other Spider’s logic (“I don’t believe in teamwork!” “Aren’t you in a band?” “I don’t believe in consistency!”). He was failing, miserably.

And then when the Spot got away, and Mumbatten’s AlcheMax started falling apart. Pavitr looked to them, and so did a bright pink Hobie, and Miles automatically gave out the orders to get things done quickly to save the civilians. He’d felt a burst of pride that was quickly popped when Hobie agreed to do what he said even as he pointedly mentioned it wasn’t because Miles specifically wanted him to, and he and Pavitr worked to get civilians to safety as quickly as possible. In this, they worked together much more seamlessly than they had fighting the Spot, and by the time Hobie and Gwen had dropped the AlcheMax building, everything was almost peachy.

And then Pavitr had to save the bus, and couldn’t save the Inspector in time, and Miles saw his opportunity. He could help Pavitr, he could get noticed by the Spider Society Gwen was a part of and get himself an inter-dimensional watch to see Peni and Peter and Noir and Ham again, he could prove himself as a viable alpha to Hobie Gwen, prove himself to Gwen.

She tried to stop him, clearly worried about him, and he reassured her as best as he could before jumping into the fray after Pavitr. And he did it, he saved the Inspector, he saved the little girl, and though Gwen was the one who pulled the rubble off of the three of them, Miles found himself looking for Hobie in spite of himself.

He was still caught off guard when the Spider himself grabbed him from behind, shaking him and crowing praise in his ear like he couldn’t help himself. Miles felt warm all over, smiling up at his bright pink outline as best as he could even though it wasn’t clearly visible through the mask; though he’d stopped tensing up when Gwen appeared to be all right, Miles found himself relaxing even more now that Hobie was for sure ok. He’d barely even registered the people cheering for them all, the way that all four of them were waving back and Pavitr was almost bouncing on his feet. Hobie still had his arm around Miles, and though he wasn’t quite sure of what was proper or not, Miles found himself wanting to wrap himself around Hobie in return.

And, honestly? That was an entire can of worms he did not feel like opening. Ever.