#Too tempting to not write about

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will

[mischievous-thunder]

Professor Howlett~

AU where PhD student Wade Wilson meets his mentor aka the devilishly handsome Professor Logan Howlett whom the entire university has a crush on and realises that he's not going to finish his degree and leave the university unscathed

[zombie-bait]

Full Moon

Ok so I don’t normally post about Helluva Boss but the newest episode touched on an interesting concept I haven’t necessarily seen represented in media. Back when I was on Twitter (derogatory) a few years ago there was this now deleted viral thread where someone discussed how their struggles with mental health affected their relationship with their partner and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. 

This is such a good, short example of how anxiety and depression can play tricks on you. It becomes so easy to envision yourself as a nuisance, a constant burden to those closest to you because they cannot possibly genuinely enjoy your company, right? But in doing so you create this arbitrarily cruel version of the people you love, people who would otherwise never behave like this outside of your own mind.

It's mean. Because your mind wants to be mean to you under these circumstances. It wants to put everyone else's emotions and desires above yours, both in worthiness and validity. And that starts bleeding into your understanding of other people, especially those you care about.

Now. Helluva Boss.

"Can I get a fucking MINUTE to think after everything you put me through you pompous rich ASSHOLE? Treat me like one of your little butler imps, you can’t just dismiss me like that! I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this every time, like you can just play with our feelings because we’re smaller and not as important. Well I’m not letting you, BITCH! Let’s go!" - Blitz

I find it really interesting how Helluva Boss decided to approach this conflict between Stolas and Blitz. Obviously, the difference in power matters. It's the underlying tension of their entire relationship and their lives. Stolas is burdened by the mountain of expectations thrust upon him from a very young age while Blitz is constantly reminded that he can NEVER be part of that world, that he is "smaller and not as important" not just in Hell's hierarchy but in his own life and family. Stolas very literally has power over Blitz (through the grimoire, the arrangement, his position in society) and Blitz uses their relationship as an excuse to reverse those roles. But that power dynamic, in one form or another, never truly goes away. And for Blitz, it's a lot easier to paint Stolas as this manipulative symbol of power and himself as nothing more than Stolas' plaything. It's easier to be angry than to be vulnerable and accept that someone might care about him.

"Dismiss" is the keyword in that quote. All that Blitz has been able to process is that Stolas has decided to end the relationship that they have. He feels ls like a choice has been taken away from him so he lashes out because he's not ready to emotionally tackle what the rest of Stolas' offer might entail. If Stolas hates him, just wants to play with him, then he is justified in his anger, his self-destruction, his isolation. If the world is mean, you're "allowed" to be mean back.

But

In that moment he forgets that Stolas is someone he actually cares about. Someone he's known for way too long and clearly wants to keep in his life, no matter how reluctant he can be to admit it. Someone who is not innately cruel or manipulative but sad and desperate for connections in a lot of the same ways that Blitz is. And Blitz immediately sees that he's miscalculated something.

Somewhere along the way the fictional version of Stolas that he's allowed himself to be mad at and the real one that he's not ready to admit he cares about have merged into something real that he has actual power over. Stolas can get hurt and Blitz can be the one who does it. He has once again allowed his greatest fears (which Stolas so frequently symbolizes) to co-opt his loved ones, to give him an "out" even though he didn't actually want one in the first place.

I'm definitely not the first person to say this but I think this is an example of the miscommunication trope done right. Their individual struggles are what cause them to be unable to connect during this conversation or to even have a proper conversation in the first place. There is no convenient misunderstanding or third party fabricating this rift. Both of them have preconceived ideas of what the other one is thinking but those ideas are flawed and rooted in self-hatred. They also both shutdown in their unique ways when the conversation starts heading in the direction they'd feared it would.

Blitz and Stolas work because they're both fucked up in similar ways, because they want similar things. That's the same reason why they're uniquely designed to hurt one another. A fear of rejection and a yearning for happiness. To borrow a quote that has been used by literally everyone from Spiderman to Evangelical preachers, "hurt people hurt people."

anyway, I really liked this episode.

(twitter thread screenshots sourced from this reddit post)

[necrotic-nephilim]

i personally have very complicated feelings on the Gotham Knights video game and the routes it takes with characterization. i think it has a charm to it and it goes in an interesting direction with everyone (especially within the confides of the plot of the game) but it does have certain moments that veer painfully fanon for me. (such as: the dialogue where Tim drinks too much coffee) it's an interesting story for what it is but i don't view it comics-based for characterization and therefore don't care to interact with it much for like. fanfic purposes.

that *said* though. i do have to give the game some kind of credit for giving one of the top five JayTim moments that lives rent free in my mind. every since i played the game, the cutscene lives in my mind daily. it's the specific cutscene where Jason and Tim are arguing about whether or not Jason's non-lethal bullets are too dangerous for the field, and the argument leads to TIm *standing in front of the target* Jason is shooting and telling Jason to shoot him. it lives rent free for me. i never stop thinking about this.

the absolute certainty Tim has that he is in no danger standing in front of Jason, who has a loaded gun pointed at his face. the way Jason *hesitates* for just a moment before lowering the gun. he thinks about it for just a second. Gotham Knights JayTim seem to get along very well and can rely on each other, but Jason still clearly holds a bitterness about his death and Tim that flickers through in some lines of dialogue under the guise of jokes. especially since this game deals *heavily* with concepts of Pit Madness causing an altered state of consciousness, i think it's believable that occasionally, Jason fights the urge to fight and hurt Tim for the feeling of being replaced.

i like their tension so much in this canon. they get along but you can *tell* Tim is afraid of addressing Jason's trauma or even addressing Jason head-on, and Jason leans into spooking Tim about it. which isn't very comics feeling in their dynamic, but it is an interesting way to place their dynamic if you're playing with a more timid Tim who's newer to the role of Robin. (which he seems to be in-game) he really doesn't want to offend Jason, or worse, piss him off. but he'll still face Jason head on for things like this, while completely aware of what Jason could be capable of.

and Jason seems very protective of Tim and respecting Tim as a Robin in typical Jason fashion. if Tim pushes, Jason *will* relent. he knows this is a kid who's proved himself and should be treated with equal respect, sometimes even more than Dick and Babs do in-game.

so for all that to culminate in Tim stepping in front of Jason's loaded gun that he *knows* is on the edge of being too dangerous, just to force Jason to listen? it's the most unhinged way Tim could've gotten his point across in this scene. he was literally daring Jason to hurt him and playing with a very dangerous fire. but he did it anyway bc he believed he could make Jason heel just at the thought of hurting Tim. and he was *right*. they're gay and i'm feral ty.

[tigergirltail]

me: "Yeah I see why the HDG universe hits for a lot of people but tbh I'm just not feeling it. No disrespect at all, it's just not for me personally."

writer brain: "But what if we learn enough about the universe to write a fic from an Affini's point of view?"

me: "..............Fuck."

[animasolascreenshots]

[waystarresourceco]

James Cromwell explaining how he contextualized Logan and Ewan's backstory in preparation for the funeral/eulogy. (x)

The reference to Ewan bringing home dead animals is (I think) from a deleted scene in Season 1, except below the cut.

Interview excerpt from an interview with James Cromwell with Vulture - May 25, 2023

Script excerpt from a deleted scene in "I Went to Market" in Succession - Season One: The Complete Scripts

[tcfactory]

Please consider: Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu role-swap

[LiuJiu, 2300 words]

After the fire, Shen Jiu doesn't sit around, he's aiming straight for Cang Qiong. Wu Yanzi tempts him, but if he is to ever find out what happened to Qi-ge then he can't play around with rogue cultivators, so he ditches the man before Wu Yanzi could take him as a disciple.

He arrives to the sect at a year when they are not doing the disciple selection - the women at the Warm Red Pavilion say it's because the Sect Leader is busy monitoring his cursed head disciple and if the Sect Leader doesn't take part then the rest of the sect has to wait too - but he's tipped off that Bai Zhan is always open to those who are determined enough to climb the mountain and demand admittance.

So that's exactly what he does. The Peak Lord sets him against one of his junior disciples and tells him there are no rules, if he can beat them he's in. It's a test he's not supposed to win, to see his determination and his reaction to failure, as a malnourished slave boy should be no match to someone in good health who has two years of training under his belt. But Shen Jiu doesn't know this, he has come too far to give up now and unlike the scrappy, but well-fed farmer's son he's set up against, he fights dirty.

He sets the basis of his future nickname - The Rabid Wolf of Bai Zhan - that day when he claws the boy's eye out and forces him to yield. His rise among the disciples is almost as meteoric as Yue Qi's and people are on the lookout for when the upstart slave boy will plummet back to the earth, but he never does. When the year is up and the sect is abuzz that Lingxi caves are finally opening again because they are letting the cursed disciple out, he's there in the front row among the curious onlookers and throws himself in his Qi-ge's arms as soon as the other boy steps foot into the light again.

Shen Qingqiu grows up tall and willowy and unpredictable, an unconventional physical cultivator that bends with the wind, but never breaks. With Yue Qingyuan's support as an unshakeable mountain behind his back, he is untouchable. He never bothers to hide what he is, not his scars or his sharp edges or the slave brand burned into the meat of his shoulder, often bared to the world by his choice of outfit; he stands as testament that even the lowest wretches can claw their way up to stand among giants.

Liu Mingqu yields to his rich family and allows himself to be enrolled into Qing Jing. He is not as suited for spiritual cultivation and he has no head for arts, but he is still a prodigy and a really hard working one at that. He learns all there is to learn for a scholar and doesn't rest until he perfects them all - music, calligraphy, painting, poetry - and even if he's ever uninspired about pursuing them, the Peerless Beauty of Qing Jing is a competent teacher who stands head and shoulders over his peers. He masters his temper and his manners and takes to hiding his face behind a fan or sometimes a veil like his sister to discourage people from staring at him.

Their roles may be different, but their nature remains the same. Shen Jiu has always been more clever than he was strong and nothing changed about that now that he's essentially a spiritual cultivator playing at star athlete. He plants a bamboo forest on his mountain - for meditation and ambush practice, he says, but everyone knows he just needed a bubble of calm for himself in the endless war zone of Bai Zhan - and mercilessly beats any disciple who dares to damage the forest. In the serene calm of his little house he hoards books and maps and all the culture he can get his calloused hands on, always thirsty to know more, an endless pit his Qi-ge happily pours obscure knowledge into. He uses the standing feud between Bai Zhan and Qing Jing to spy on them, learn their cultivation methods by sight and listen to the senior disciples do ad hoc concerts, so he can practice music in the brothel or under a silencing array just behind his house.

It's during one of these trips when he discovers Liu Qingge behind the Qing Jing Peak Lord's manor, restlessly shuffling through the steps of a formal dance. Liu Qingge yearns to move, he yearns for the exertion of his wild youth, but there are only so many acceptable options for a scholar and as a cultivator he can't channel his restlessness into hunting or horse riding. That leaves dancing, but Liu Qingge is not a creative person. He sticks to the dances he half-remembers learning as a rich young master and maybe asks his sister for some more, but that's where his resourcefulness runs out on this venture.

Shen Qingqiu watches him go through the steps of the same dozen dances, swap to a few rounds of sword forms - perfectly executed and ethereal, an immortal beauty that earthbound Shen Qingqiu will never be able to replicate - and then swap back to the dances, increasingly frustrated and restless.

"If Peak Lord Qingge wants to learn some better dances, this shidi can introduce you to someone." Liu Qingge startles and almost turns him into a pincushion with a barrage of bamboo leaves.

"What do you want?!" They are secure in their respective positions, but they still don't like each other.

"Peace, shixiong. I'm just looking out for the sect. How would it reflect on me if I let my fellow Peak Lord work himself into a qi deviation and didn't step in?" Shen Qingqiu shrugs and smiles with an easy, predatory grace that makes Liu Qingge wish he had fangs to match the Wolf of Bai Zhan, but there's no malice in the offer. "Come now, shixiong. There's nobody else here. We don't need to do this stupid game of social posturing. Tell you what, as a sign of my goodwill I'm going to teach you a meditation technique to calm your qi after exercise, free of charge."

Almost everything with Shen Qingqiu is a transaction, so Liu Qingge knows better than to pass up the chance to get something from his shidi for free - and the meditation does help settle his roiling qi.

"What do you want in return, then?" It's almost terrifying how intensely Shen Qingqiu's eyes light up.

"That trick with the leaves - teach me how to do it."

Liu Qingge doesn't bother to point out that it's a spiritual technique. It's an unspoken secret that they would be better suited to each other's cultivation styles than that of their own peaks. Shen Qingqiu has a storm of razor sharp leaves dancing in the air before Liu Qingge is even done explaining.

He almost regrets agreeing when Shen Qingqiu takes him down to the brothel, but the women his shidi introduces him to are truly masters of dance - they were stars of an imperial dance troupe before their owner was executed for offending the Emperor and they were sold to the brothel. They take him to the back and teach him dances he could never have imagined, dances that make his heart soar and his blood rush hot in his veins, while Shen Qingqiu lightly dozes among the women in the main reception area, his very presence frightening all but the most unruly patrons into behaving.

Liu Qingge is an honest man and he knows, deep down, that he got much more out of this exchange than his shidi. He’s on the lookout to see how he could repay him, but Shen Qingqiu seems to want for nothing. What he can’t get on his own Yue Qingyuan gifts to him, doting relentlessly on his sharp-edged little brother. So when he hears that Shen Qingqiu is to set out to assist in a night hunt against a particularly dangerous demonic beast that made its way over the to the far shore of the sea, he hops to the opportunity to compile a scroll of all the unspoken rules and etiquette of the island, as well as a short history on the ninja clan that asked for their aid. It’s all information that Shen Qingqiu has no way of learning otherwise, but should ease his time on the hunt.

When he can’t find Shen Qingqiu at the bamboo house he goes looking for him and that’s when he finds the silencing array, that’s when he sees his shidi sitting with his guqin in a clearing, composing music. Liu Qingge’s mouth goes dry, his heart skips a beat - his shidi is like a vision from the heavens and for the first time since he started this scholarly lifestyle, Liu Qingge wants to paint. He wants to etch this scene in his heart and condense it into a poem.

He slinks away before his shidi can notice him and leaves the scroll in the bamboo house. In the three years Shen Qingqiu is gone, hunting that elusive monster that decimates one village after another, he becomes a man possessed - or more accurately, a tender hearted young maiden yearning for her first love. He paints picture after picture, sometimes of a wolf stalking among the bamboo, sometimes of Qingqiu with his guqin as the scene lives in his memory. Rarely he paints his shidi stretched out on a couch in the brothel, languid with feigned sleep and one eye opened a crack as he vigilantly watches over his sisters - he gifts one of those to the brothel, much to the ladies’ delight. He starts writing poetry, yearning, horrible poetry his sister mocks relentlessly, but slowly he finds his words and his latest attempts are almost good. He is the first to hound Zhangmen-shixiong for news on Shen shidi and learns every word of every letter by heart, no matter how short or impersonal the progress reports are.

Liu Qingge knows that his martial siblings are not blind to his obsession - he has caught Shang shidi muttering “bro, really?!” under his breath more than once. He’s not familiar with the expression, but he can understand the sentiment. Yue Qingyuan watches him with patient exasperation, but he knows that the man doesn’t disapprove from the mild comment about how Shen Jiu will need a new ceremonial robe for his return celebration because his old one is ten years out of fashion.

Embroidery is, technically, within the skill set of the Qing Jing Peak Lord. He hounds An Ding until someone supplies him with Shen Qingqiu’s measurements and the finest materials he can bully Shang shidi into acquiring - “That’s the same stuff demon royalty wears, try not to waste it, my contact had to go through the royal seamstress of the northern kingdom to get it in that color.” - and sets to work. Bai Zhan’s color is steel blue, but that never fit his shidi, so he picks greens instead to match his striking green eyes. He creates a design that accentuates the deceptive slimness of Qingqiu, then embroiders the robes with bamboo patterns and a wolf on the hunt and when they are done he crafts a matching fan - Shen shidi hides from nothing and nobody, but Liu Qingge thinks he might enjoy being a little mysterious.

He is daydreaming about his shidi during the next Peak Lord meeting when the Sect Leader breaks the news: the beast has finally been slain and Shen Qingqiu will be on the next ship back home. Liu Qingge stays barely long enough to not be impolite at the end of the meeting before he rushes off to finish the last touches on the robes. He wants to leave it all set out for his shidi in the bamboo house.

In his haste he misses the look Shang Qinghua and Yue Qingyuan exchange behind his back.

“So, about those arrangements we made…”

“Yes, please. Let’s get Xiao Jiu home before Liu-shidi pines himself into a qi deviation.”

“Yeah, he’s down bad isn’t he?”

“Are you certain your prince doesn’t mind? If you are in any danger, shidi…”

“No! It’s fine, I’m fine, he already agreed to it! In fact, my Xuebao likes your brother so much I’m almost a little jealous.”

“Really now?”

“Zhangmen-shixiong, please stop looking like you are plotting murder. It’s not like that. As the Mobei prince, he really doesn’t have a lot of friends. Of course he misses A-Jiu.”

“If you say so, shidi.”

Liu Qingge is all jitters when he walks down the path to the bamboo house. He can’t understand why because Shen Qingiu won’t be back for months, but he still feels like a maiden on her way to ask out her love on the first date.

He almost drops the package with the robes when he opens the door and finds Shen Qingqiu standing there in the sunlit room. His shidi is too solid, too real to be an apparition, his clothes worn from travel, his heavy pack still unpacked by the table. He stands with a letter in one hand - Qingge recognizes his sister’s wobbly, childish handwriting - and with Qingge’s notebook in which he wrote all his stumbling, horrible poetry in the other and Liu Qingge wishes nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Are those my new robes?” Shen Qingqiu asks, as if they have only met this morning, as if that was a reasonable thing to ask when Qingge’s heart is about to explode from nerves. He can only mutely nod at his shidi. “You know shixiong, I can see that you have put enormous effort into courting me. I would have loved it if it happened when I was here to experience it.”

Shen Qingqiu sets the notebook and the letter down and stalks up to Liu Qingge, his eyes sharp with an emotion he can’t interpret, but it makes Liu Qingge want to bare his throat to his teeth and be devoured.

“So, Liu-shixiong. Are you going to help me try on my new robes?”

[sociallyawkwardjustice]

“Luffy was all kinds of stupid-cute during heat week…”

It’s been 84 years since I fanfic’d…

But I finally watched One Piece all the way through and. This. Happened…

ABO fluff, no smut, cuddles galore. Takes place on the Sunny en route to Dress Rosa. Implied one-sided pining Lawlu, mild possibly one-sided Zolu. Asexual Omega Luffy having snuggly-times with the Straw-Hats.

The Straw-Hat pirates were many things.

First and foremost: they were a band of single-minded idiots, at least as ridiculous as they were formidable.

But they were also a pack — one of the most peculiar packs Trafalgar Law had ever seen.

They were infamously unorthodox, as far as pirate crews went. Most packs are no more than 6-10 in number, so whole crews usually aren’t packs. And the packs within a single crew are normally blood-related.

Not so for the Straw-Hats. They were a small crew, and they were pack-mates not by blood but by choice.

But the part that went from uncommon to almost unheard of? The ship’s captain, the pack leader, was in fact an omega.

The rest of the crew were betas, with the exception of Roronoa Zoro, the feared alpha swordsman from East Blue. But the former pirate hunter followed his omega captain with unwavering loyalty.

Many found it puzzling. Traditionally the captain is always an alpha, the alpha of the pack in every meaning of the word. But not one of the Straw-Hats seemed bothered in the least by their upside-down ship dynamics.

And in a fight, every enemy soon learned that no one was stronger than Straw-Hat Luffy, the teenage omega with an unyielding ambition to become the king of pirates.

It was still a hard pill for some people to swallow. Omegas are thought of as physically weak, or demure, or soft-featured. But Luffy was certainly none of those things!

(…Although, he did have a bit of a baby-face.)

And every omega goes into heat, yes. But contrary to popular belief? It’s not a sustained, uncontrollably aroused state. It depends on the individual, but most omegas just become sensitive to physical touch during heat, and seek out cuddles and pettings. Nothing so debilitating as the popular beliefs about omega heats!

All the same, the Straw-Hat crew during Luffy’s heat was… quite a sight to behold.

Now, the thing about the captain of the Heart pirates? He didn’t like to appear in any way vulnerable, to either his enemies or his allies. So his expression was almost always grim. He only smiled in a devilish, cunning way that revealed no softness. It made him feel armored, somehow, if no one could tell what he really felt under his veneer of confidence.

And there was no greater threat to Trafalgar Law’s famously stoic image than unbearable cuteness.

This was why Law was prone to casting aghast glares when he was forced to behold the adorable. If he didn’t, a smile might slip - the gentle kind of smile that didn’t befit a fearsome pirate captain.

So throughout the Straw-Hat captain’s heat, the Heart pirates captain wore an even more severe glower than usual.

Because Luffy was all kinds of stupid-cute during heat week.

Ussop, Chopper and Luffy were already always all over each other, like a trio of little boys. But during Luffy’s heat?

Luffy would carry Chopper around everywhere like a stuffed toy. He’d swing on his heels side to side, tucking his chin snugly into the top of Chopper’s hat… blithely ignoring increasingly exasperated requests of “put me down, please”. To get anything done, the reindeer doctor had to shift into his heavy point form while Luffy just held on still, hanging like a cape over Chopper’s big fuzzy shoulders.

When it was Ussop’s turn (because apparently no crew member was safe from captain cuddles), Luffy typically scooped the sniper up with the same ease as he did Chopper. After dangling awkwardly over Luffy’s shoulder with a flat expression, Ussop usually could persuade his captain to ease him into a piggyback position. As long as Ussop kept his arms tight around him, Luffy seemed content to parade around with his friend on his back, giggling like a maniac even when Ussop wasn’t cracking jokes in his ear.

Nami was much more strict in her approach with heat-touchy Luffy.

“Nuh-uh, you know the drill, dummy! Let me finish what I’m doing first,” she’d snap when she was in the middle of something, and Luffy had inevitably tried to sneak a hug. He’d pout and sit impatiently on the galley floor while Nami gathered up her navigation materials off the table.

When she was ready, she would find herself a seat, pull a pillow into her lap, and turn to Luffy.

“Okay. C’mere you limpet.”

Luffy then happily bounced up and scrambled so that his head was on the pillow in Nami’s lap. She’d make a show of sighing like it was a huge chore while she scratched and ruffled at his black head of hair. But she couldn’t help a small, fond smile as she shook her head.

That sleepy-kitten smile on the strawhat captain’s face as he nestled into the pillow and outright purred… it was so adorable, Law contemplated clawing his own damn eyes out.

Brook, Franky and Robin gave no sign that anything the omega did with them was less than a normal, everyday occurrence.

It had taken Law a moment to even notice something amiss when Brook walked by him. None of the crew looked twice at the sight, and the skeleton man himself carried his lanky form much the same as always.

Law had to do a double-take when he realized that there was something attached to one of Brook’s legs. Wrapped like a bandage around his shin was one rubbery omega captain, hanging on like a toddler riding his mother’s ankles.

Brook merely refilled and sipped from his teacup, apparently unbothered.

Law had noticed before that the musician wore the highest quality cloth. His trousers in particular were made of the softest materials, maybe to compensate for his harsh and uninviting bone body. Luffy seemed happy enough to rub his cheek against the fabric like a cat, despite the lack of flesh or body heat underneath.

When it came to the Straw-Hat’s shipwright, Luffy preferred to sling his body over the cyborg’s enormous shoulders like a scarf. He dangled upside down on one side of Franky, the rest of him hanging over the other side in an inhuman stretch. It didn’t seem to hinder Franky in his work. He did pause sometimes to show Luffy an invention or upgrade up-close, or to pop out the smaller mechanical hand inside his big hand to boop the omega’s nose.

The high-pitched squawk Luffy made at that was gut-bustingly cute.

And then there was Robin…

The so-called Devil Child’s serene smile grew a little when her captain stumbled over to her, usually at the end of the day after running around with Ussop and Chopper. He didn’t need to say a word. She would simply sit on the floor and gesture to her lap, and he’d plop drowsily right into her arms.

If she didn’t already have a book in hand, she’d grab one and settle herself so that Luffy was strewn over her lap like an overgrown puppy. She sprouted extra hands to simultaneously hold up her book and squeeze Luffy’s spindly limbs to herself.

Sanji tended to comment that he wished he were in Robin’s arms like that, in an annoying, singsongy voice. This was ignored by all.

But then, the Straw-Hat’s cook could not escape his own round of cuddle-attacks from Luffy.

The blond crewman was always going out of his way to proclaim his eternal infatuation with any and all woman-folk. While he was actually quite friendly with the men in his crew (except for the swordsman, for reasons unknown to Law), he didn’t fawn over them the way he would the female crew members.

True to his lady’s man image, Sanji would complain at first when Luffy glomped him from behind. He’d insist that he didn’t want a man clinging to him, making halfhearted efforts to shake Luffy off. But he gave that up pretty quick. As Sanji assumed a defeated posture, Luffy clamped onto him like a backpack and peered with interest at the food he was preparing.

Sanji then entered an obviously familiar routine of catching and batting away stretchy hands out of ingredients, maneuvering expertly around the kitchen as though he wasn’t weighed down by a cuddly omega captain on his back. Occasionally he held a spoon up to let Luffy have a taste of something. Luffy’s face would light right up and Sanji’s eyes would soften. The kid clearly loved Sanji’s food, and Sanji clearly couldn’t help but spoil the kid just a little.

The last crew member, Zoro, almost seemed to be avoiding Luffy.

That wasn’t all too surprising. The swordsmen was an alpha, after all. Law was too, but he wasn’t that affected by heat pheromones. They just made him a little antsy.

It varies from alpha to alpha, but some have more severe reactions to omega heats. Intense mood fluctuations are common, as well as mild-to-moderate physical discomfort. Or it could be vice versa; the omega could have an adverse reaction to a specific alpha’s pheromones during their heat.

They would have known by now if Luffy had that problem with Law’s pheromones, though. So Law didn’t bother to evade the omega altogether.

Law could only assume Zoro and Luffy just weren’t comfortable around each other during high-pheromone production periods (which Law would never admit made him feel a bit superior to the other alpha, because there was no cause to boast about pheromone compatibility with a dumbass like Straw-Hat Luffy).

But then one afternoon Law finally saw them.

He’d been looking for a quiet corner to get a much needed break from the boisterous Straw-Hats, and decided to try the crow’s nest. But once he reached it he stopped with a jolt.

There, propped against the mast at the center of the nest, was Zoro and Luffy.

Zoro hadn’t been avoiding Luffy. He probably just didn’t want the others to see this… because the alpha and the omega were napping together in an embarrassingly sweet embrace.

The rubber captain sat at a straddle in his first mate’s lap. Smushing the side of his face against Zoro’s chest, Luffy had his arms wrapped all the way around them both in a stretchy loop that came back to his own shoulders. One of Zoro’s bulky arms was draped lazily over Luffy’s waist, while the other arm pillowed the back of his own head.

The two highest-bounty Straw-Hats, all soft and cuddled up? It was too compromising a position for a pirate captain and his first mate!

Law took a second too long just staring.

Even though Zoro was always napping, he was a light sleeper. His one good eye snapped open almost right away and fixed on Law. A growl slipped out of the half-awake swordsman. It was probably just instinct, sleepy brain only processing that another alpha was in the same space as his in-heat captain.

Law was still irked by it.

Up until now, Zoro had shown the good sense not to provoke the other alpha during this tenuous alliance. Now he had the audacity not only to growl at him, but to do it with a snoozing Luffy in his lap. For some reason that made it so much more annoying.

So Law sneered and turned up his nose. “Comfortable?” he asked snidely.

He was unreasonably bothered by the protective grip Zoro tightened on Luffy.

Although a faint blush rose in the swordsman’s face, his eye narrowed and he looked like he was about to retort.

Instead Zoro was interrupted by Luffy stirring slightly against him.

Both alphas’ attentions turned immediately to the omega. But he didn’t wake. Luffy just nuzzled against his crew mate and made a funny little lip-smacking noise. After mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like “meat”, he went quiet again.

Law wasn’t able to appreciate the uncharacteristic warmth overtaking Zoro’s expression. He was in no position to tease or condescend to the younger alpha - not with how unfairly cute the sleepy omega was being. It was a hard sucker punch to the ego.

The surgeon of death only huffed, trying to sound disgusted, and chose to use his devil fruit power to teleport out of there. His chest was clenching and Law knew it had nothing to do with cardiac or respiratory health. So Law glared at the floor and willed himself to calm down.

It was bad enough that anyone, anything, was making his heart palpitate like this. That it was over a rival pirate captain was even more humiliating.

He couldn’t even blame it on heat pheromones. It wasn’t the omega’s scent, or the faint tug of instinct in Law’s alpha hindbrain.

It was the look on that doe-eyed face when Luffy’s pack showed him their affection. It was the puppyish wiggle in his body when Luffy was getting himself comfortable on someone’s lap or back. It was the childish giggling Luffy would start up unprovoked, which eventually faded into sleepy purring.

It was that Luffy was just so cute, damn it!!

[theflyingfeeling]

I don't know if any of you remember but almost three years ago I wrote some AU fics as a part of an ask game and recently I reread this Fairytale(ish) AU one and one particular detail of it always intirgued me and I've wanted to expand that thought so much, and now I finally did!!

it's Joonas/Joel (as opposed to the Niko/Olli of the original story), and I do recommend you (re)read that^ one before reading this new installment to the AU, not necessarily because it has a whole lot to do with the original fic, but more to... put you in the right mood, I guess? ✨

~

Once upon a time in a faraway land in the cold, cold north, there was a boy who loved the night sky. 

"They're our home away from home", his mother had once told him when they had watched the stars together. “When we die, we choose one and settle down for a while, but only until our loved ones arrive there too and we can cross the border together.”

"Will you go live in one too?" Joel had asked. They never talked about it, not with the exact words at least, but Joel had known her time was near, from the way her voice was growing weaker by each day that passed, and from how she needed Joel's help with unlocking and opening the old, heavy door of their hut (“it used to be the other way around, you know”, she'd laugh and Joel would laugh too, just to show her how brave he was).

"I will, and I'll wait for you there", she had reassured her son, as if she had sensed that was what Joel would have wanted to know next.

"But how will I know which one is yours?" little Joel had wondered. His mother had appeared to be thinking for a while, but when she had spoken again, there had been no hesitation in her voice.

"When it's your time, although it's not going to be in a very long while", (she had said this to console him, Joel knew, but at that moment it had only made him curl up even tighter to her side), "a northern light will appear to guide you the right way. It will be the most beautiful thing you have ever seen, and–"

"Even more beautiful than the one we saw last Winter Solstice? The one with lots of purple and pink and blue?" Joel had to make sure, because he had never seen a more gorgeous sight than the one from that particular night; even over a year later, he had still been dreaming about it and found all the other northern lights they had seen since then ordinary in comparison.

"Yes, at least ten times as beautiful as that one. You'll know it when you see it, and it'll know where to find you, too, so don't you worry, Joel. It'll all be alright."

She had repeated those words (it'll all be alright) when her hand had finally slipped from Joel's as her soul had left her body some six months after that conversation and some ten years from this moment when Joel found himself sitting on a bed again, staring out the window, waiting for something to happen.

He loved the night sky, with or without Aurora Borealis, because how could he not? That was where his mother was, his beloved mother, who had been his everything, and still was, all this time after the sand in her hourglass ran out. That was where his nana was as well, his mother had promised him, even though Joel wasn't sure he'd recognize her, having been only one year and two months old when she had passed, after which he and his mother had been left all alone in the cold, dark world.

(He had tried to ask if his father would be there too, waiting for them in one of those twinkling celestial bodies, but she had never given him an actual answer. "Your father loves you so much" was all that had ever been said on the matter, so Joel never asked to know more, afraid it would have had her eyes filled with more tears.)

So when his mother had passed, Joel had been left more alone than he had ever been in his life, in a world that was even colder, even darker than it had ever been before. On her deathbed, his mother had made Joel promise that he'd wait for this special northern light to come and fetch him, had insisted on it as if it was something really important to her, so Joel was keen on keeping his promise, even though he had been tempted to go look for the northern light himself, let's say, in the bottom of The Black Lake, for example.

He had stood there countless times, in fact, on the pier of the lake and stared into its depths, wondering how long it would take for him to no longer feel the coldness of the water. He had admired the reflection of the dark woods surrounding it, asking them if they'd look as comforting from the other side of the surface. Once he'd made up his mind about it, he'd turn around and walk back home, trembling by the time he’d reach the door.

One of those times, he had stood on the pier for hours, or so it had felt like, watching as snowflakes had softly fallen on the still surface. It had been quite early for first snow that year, so the lake had still been free of ice, and Joel couldn't help but imagine how extraordinary, how soothing it must be, to witness the ice forming from below and have it trap you in the frozen waves forever.

He had made up his mind about it then too, only that time he didn't turn to walk back home, at least not right away. If he had, he had probably run into the person whose blond-haired reflection had then appeared next to his own on the surface of the lake, among the melting snowflakes.

This was where Joel's story started anew: 

Once upon a time in a faraway land in the cold, cold north, there was a boy who loved another boy.

And Joonas wasn't just any boy; he was a boy made of light, as if the sun beamed literally out of him and left a trail of sparkles everywhere he went, even reaching as far as the darkest corners of Joel's rooms and kept them lighted even when Joonas was not there. Joonas saw tiny miracles everywhere he went, and for some strange reason Joel was lucky enough to be the person he shared them with ever since they had made friends that day. He felt warmth where Joel only felt coldness and helped Joel feel it too, wrapping him in it; he heard birdsong where Joel heard emptiness, the kind that terrified Joel to the bone until Joonas would take his hand and ground him, showing him how to focus so he could hear it too; he saw hope where Joel saw nothing but desolation and pulled Joel back from it, back to the surface where Joel could breathe again.

On so many days, Joel was breathing only thanks to Joonas.

Some other days, when Joonas the fisherman's son had been helping out his father with preparing trout and burbot for the court, the air Joel was breathing wasn't quite so pleasant, but on second thought, those may have been Joel's favourite days, because he knew that later that evening they would bathe together and use the rose soap handcrafted by Joonas' mother for exactly such occasions. Ever since his mother's last embrace, Joel had never felt as warm and loved as he felt when sitting in the bathtub with Joonas in his arms, aimlessly chatting about how the day had passed for them and listening to Joonas' anecdotes about the summer before and how the thorns of his mother's rose bush had pestered him when he had been collecting rose petals for his mother's soap.

Such was the warmth he felt also when sharing his bed with Joonas, in the hut that was their own as of last summer. Joel hated to abandon the warmth, but he could never forgive himself if tonight was finally the night that the northern light his mother had spoken of would come for him and he'd sleep through it, even if she had given Joel her word that it would find him no matter what, “even in your sleep, yes.”

Maybe that was what Joel was most afraid of: that it would happen without him even knowing it. As a child, he had been obsessed about actually seeing the phenomenon with his own eyes. As of late, he had other reasons to not leave this world so abruptly.

His feet hung from the edge of the bed as he stared out the window, at the sleeping village in front of him. All the houses were dark, but still Joel wondered if anyone else was awake as he was, waiting for northern lights to appear in the sky to accompany them on their way to the other side. Or perhaps they had been given other instructions, a right-timed comet or maybe a dead branch of a mountain birch pointing them to the right star, helping them reunite with a long-gone loved one. These were the thoughts Joel amused himself with to pass the time, until he saw something green approach from behind a fell.

It didn't take long for Joel to see that this, like all the other northern lights he had seen since that one Winter Solstice, was not the one his mother had spoken of. Although beautiful in its own, simple way, it was as typical a northern light as it could be, with merely a couple of different shades of green and yellow, whereas some of the more impressive ones Joel had witnessed had filled the dark sky with almost every colour Joel could imagine. Still, he couldn't take his eyes from it, and sat down on the floor for a better view above the trees and rooftops.

He expected it to wash over the village in a couple of minutes, as northern lights tended to do at this time of the year, but when almost half an hour had passed and the sky was still blazing green, he poked Joonas' feet under the blanket.

Joonas moaned but opened his eyes. They weren’t sleepy as they often did if he was woken up prematurely, Joel noticed.

"Get up, Joonas, you don't want to miss this."

As if boneless, Joonas slumped next to Joel on the floor and wrapped a blanket around them.

"Oh, wow," Joonas sighed as soon as his eyes focused on the lights. "That is stunning. Look at how they’re dancing." He wiggled himself into Joel's armpit and rested his head on Joel's shoulder. Joel smiled, for never before meeting Joonas had he imagined the northern lights could dance. Looking at them the way Joonas must have been looking, it was clear as day they actually were dancing.

Often, when Joel had been staring at the sky, waiting for his northern light to appear, he had felt awfully lonely. That was the point, Joel had assumed; that when he was at his loneliest, his mother would finally come for him. Then Joonas had entered his life, and those feelings had been few and far between – although never completely gone – and he was grateful for the company, even those nights when Joonas grew tired of waiting with him and fell asleep before the lights would appear, if they ever did. Other nights, Joonas seemed as anxious as Joel was to find out if tonight would be the night.

(Joel had never planned to tell Joonas, but he hadn't known how to keep it a secret either when Joonas had once asked him why he stayed awake most nights, looking out the window as if waiting for something or someone.)

"This isn't it either, though, is it?" Joonas asked him now, with a voice that was a mix of sympathy and relief. “This isn’t your mother showing you the way?” Joel added in his mind.

"No," Joel confirmed, and the strangest thing was, even he felt relief. Many nights he had cried into the night, begging for his mother to come and get him already because he couldn't bear facing another sunrise without her. These days, he wasn't quite as disappointed about it anymore.

"Good," Joonas agreed with what Joel hadn't even said out loud. "That means I get to keep you for at least one more day."

Joel felt the smile on Joonas' lips when they left a quick kiss to the side of his neck before Joonas laid his head on Joel's shoulder again.

Times like these, Joel couldn't help but wonder if this was why his mother had made him promise he'd be a good boy and wait patiently until he'd see those special northern lights she would send for him; if she had known her son's impulsive mind and his stubborn heart and was afraid he might try and follow her to the darkness persistently, despite her warnings.

"And this is important, Joel, because if you don't wait until you see those lights, you won't find the right star and we'll never see each other again."

So Joel had waited, and he was going to wait until the day would come. While he did, he might as well lean against the boy next to him and admire the night sky, just for the joy of it.

"Back to bed now?" Joonas' voice was muffled by the blanket he was pulling even closer to himself. The floor was as freezing as the surface of The Black Lake at this time of the year, and Joel knew Joonas hated being cold.

Not so very long ago, Joel would have wanted to stay up all night, just in case. Now, he saw no need for that.

"Let's go," he whispered and crawled back in the sheets, back into the warmth, back into light where Joonas already waited for him. 

[dollie-ollie]

do you guys think i would get kicked out of college forever if i asked to make a full paper for english on fucking third life or

[tswwwit]

I hope this doesn't come across the wrong way but i recently reread the entire familiar au (its as amazing as always!) and its so impressive to see how far you have come as a writer especially compared to the new cult au its honestly pretty inspiring

Thank you! It's truly nice to hear that I've made progress. I mean, obviously - hopefully - I would have after all this time, but sometimes the improvement is hard to see when you're so close to it.

[ladytauria]

to celebrate hitting 50k i'm sharing a snippet of the longfic i'm currently working on <3 (thank you v much to both @deepwithintheabyss and @paprikadotmp4 for the encouragement & brainstorming help <3)

still untitled (i've been calling it the "aob dubcon fic" lmao) but i have written a summary:

Jason tries to sell off his first heat to make ends meet for the upcoming winter. When he’s taken by traffickers instead, he’s sure that’s the end of him—until he’s rescued by a mysterious alpha. That “rescue” comes with a price: Jason’s heat hits shortly after, and… one thing leads to another, and now Jason and Tim are bound together by a fledgling mate bond. It’s not the first time Jason’s had to make the best of things, but… he finds it a little bit easier this time, especially as he grows to genuinely like Tim. Unfortunately, just as they're starting to settle into mated life, Tim’s ex-pack starts getting involved, and they don’t exactly approve of Tim’s choice in mate—never mind that it wasn’t really a choice at all.

cws/tags for this snippet: reverse robins, aob dynamics, underage jason (15), first aid, medical inaccuracies (probably; i'm not a doctor, so i'm warning to be safe), hurt/comfort, touch starvation, anxiety, allusions to captivity related ptsd, self-deprecation, brief memories of non-consensual touching

editing to add: this snippet takes place in the 2nd half of chapter 2 <3 (& was originally the second scene for the fic lol)

i have also previously shared a snippet of the scene after this, when jason's heat hits, here.

Tim parks outside of an old apartment building. The brick facade is worn, cracked and peeling in places. Most of the windows are intact at least, though; two of them have lights on, the rest dark.

Tim gets out first, already having rounded the car by the time Jason is swinging his legs out. His hand rests on the door, waiting patiently for Jason to join him on the sidewalk. Then he shuts it. One hand rests on Jason’s back again, a gentle guide inside.

There’s a man at the desk near the front entrance, reading a newspaper. He spares them a brief, bored glance before going back to it.

There’s an out of order sign on the elevator, so they have to take the stairs. It’s just two flights, but by the end, Jason’s slightly out of breath. He’d thought he was in pretty good shape, but—

He guesses spending nearly a week in a small, windowless room hasn’t done him any favors.

Tim stops at a door in the middle of the hall, unlocking it and letting Jason go in first. The main room is all one room; living room transitioning to kitchen, separated by an island counter. Tim guides Jason to the couch, directing him to sit while he gets the first aid kit.

The couch is worn but comfortable, cushions sinking under Jason’s weight, cradling him.

Tim disappears down the hall, and returns a few moments later holding the biggest first aid kit Jason has ever seen. Not that he’s really an expert on the things, but— The one at his house was pretty small.

And mostly empty, honestly.

The coffee table looks comically small under it. It makes Jason’s belly flip with nerves, remembering the feeling of latex covered hands on his body, spreading him open.

He bites his lip.

Tim doesn’t open it, though; instead, he slips into the kitchen. He comes back a moment later, holding a bottle of purple Gatorade. Then, he kneels in front of Jason. It’s—odd. Having an alpha kneel in front of him, voluntarily. Even though Jason knows he doesn’t exactly have any power here, the visual dissonance is—

Odd.

He offers up the bottle. It takes a moment for Jason’s hands to move, but he does take it. His fingers fumble with the cap; he flushed, embarrassed despite himself, but gets it open.

As soon as it touches his lips, his thirst hits him full force. He allows himself two large gulps to wet his throat, and then forces himself to slow down, sipping instead.

When he screws the cap back on, he finds Tim still there. Waiting. He twists his hands around the plastic nervously.

“Alright,” Tim says gently. “Other than the bruise on your side, and the rope burns… are you injured?”

Jason shakes his head, twisting the sleeves of the alpha’s jacket. “Nn-nn. Just some bruises,” he says softly. He pauses. “And, um. I did hit my head once. It still hurts, but— I’m not, like, dizzy or nothin’.”

Tim nods. “Alright,” he says. “I’d like to do a head injury evaluation anyway. I’ll just feel over your skull, and then use a penlight to evaluate your pupil dilation. I’ve got cream for the rope burns, and for the bruise—” Tim hesitates a moment, then continues, “I’ll need to check and make sure nothing is cracked, and there’s no internal bruising.” He pauses again. “As long as there’s nothing serious anywhere else… I have some painkillers you can take, when we eat.”

Jason takes a moment to absorb all of that, and then nods, tipping his head forward obediently.

There’s a part of him screaming at himself not to be so compliant. To kick and claw and scratch and bite and fight, the way he has been for the past week. But he’s— He’s so tired, and sore, and—

The alpha smells so good, and— The smiles he keeps giving Jason melt something inside of him. He wants to keep seeing them. Keep earning them.

Tomorrow that might scare him.

Tonight—

His eyes fall closed when Tim’s fingers slide into his curls. The touch is achingly gentle. It feels— It feels good. Nice. Jason can’t help but lean into it. He thinks Tim’s hands linger a little longer than they need to, like he’s indulging Jason’s obvious enjoyment of the touch.

He does pull away eventually. Jason bites back his whine, instead sitting back up against the cushions.

“No bumps,” Tim murmurs. He gets out the penlight next, and cups Jason’s face as he shines a light first in one eye, and then the other. Jason grimaces, hissing a little as he squints. The light aggravates his aching head. “Pupil dilation is normal.” He pockets the light, and strokes Jason’s cheek with his thumb before he pulls away. “Now, I need to check your bruises.”

Jason bites his lip again. The constant worrying is starting to make the top layer of skin break and flake under his teeth. He averts his eyes, rolling the sleeves of the suit jacket up, exposing his hands. Then he pulls his shirt up, bunching it up just beneath his breasts.

His stomach jumps when Tim touches him. Tim pauses, hand hesitating, just barely touching Jason’s skin, and then— He starts to rumble, low and deep.

Jason whines. He doesn’t mean to—but it bursts from him; he can’t stop it, can’t muffle it. It’s a soft, helpless little keen, and the alpha’s rumble gets louder in response. He scoots closer, until he’s between Jason’s knees. His hand settles onto Jason’s skin, curving around his side. His other hand comes to cup Jason’s shoulder, thumb rubbing gentle circles through his clothes.

“It’s alright,” he soothes, the rumble deepening his voice. The sound—

Jason has only vague memories of his father rumbling for him, from when he was much, much smaller. Before working as a henchman had stolen much of his father’s good will. Other than that, Jason has only ever heard alphas rumble on TV. It’s—

It’s a really nice sound.

Against his will, tears fill his eyes, and he raises his hand, pressing his palm over one, like he can force them back inside. Tim’s hand settles against his side, just underneath the bruising. “You’re alright,” the alpha murmurs. “It’s okay to cry, pup.”

Jason sniffs, loud in the quiet. “I—I—”

“Shh, puppy.” Tim’s hand doesn’t leave Jason as he rises, slipping onto the couch beside him. His other hand cups the back of Jason’s head, tugging him forward—Jason’s arms come up automatically, wrapping around Tim’s neck, his shirt falling back over his abdomen. The alpha’s scent drips with comfort and the promise of protection and Jason—

He feels… He feels warm, and safe, and—

A sob rattles through his chest. Tim holds him closer, tighter, his arm winding around Jason’s waist. He buries his nose in Jason’s curls, stroking his skin with his thumb as he rocks him, slowly.

Jason’s chest heaves. His whole body shakes with each sob, so much that Jason is worried he’s going to shake himself apart. Tim’s steady hold feels like all that’s keeping him together.

It’s not just the last few days, it’s— It’s everything, since his Mom got sick and Dad turned to working as henchman and their lives just… fell apart. He’s— Jason’s been on his own for so long. Longer even than he’s been on the streets. Every day has been a fight for survival and Jason—

Honestly, he thought he’d finally lost.

Tim murmurs in his ear. Jason can’t hear a word of what he’s saying, but the tone is low and gentle, and Jason clings to it.

It takes a long time for Jason’s sobs to subside. Jason— He doesn’t know how long exactly. But he does know that when he’s done he feels exhausted. He slumps into Tim’s chest, tremors still running down his spine. His face is sticky. He definitely got snot all over Tim’s nice shirt, and that—

He’s too tired to even worry about Tim’s reaction.

Fingers comb through his hair again, lightly scritching his scalp. He lets out a soft sigh, slumping even more against the alpha’s chest.

Tim hums. He noses at Jason’s temple; a gentle nudge Jason grumbles at. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs. “I still need to look at your bruises.”

Jason whines—the same plaintive little puppy whine he used to give his mom when he wasn’t ready to get up yet, for one reason or another. It makes Tim huff, amused; the humor reflected in his scent. It’s nice. Really nice.

He noses at Jason’s temple again. “Pup.” His voice is a little more stern. It’s not threatening, though—doesn’t even make Jason’s hackles raise. Tim is still rumbling. Close as they are, it feels like it’s seeping into Jason’s bones. It lessens the ache in him. His skin— His skin has been itchy for years, but. The creepy crawling of it has subsided, for now at least.

He’s comfortable. Jason doesn’t want to move.

He does anyway, sitting back with a scowl on his face. It makes Tim smile—his scowl deepens.

“I’ll be quick,” Tim promises.

Jason huffs a little. He leans back against the couch cushions. Tim’s hand is still under his shirt, sliding back over to the injured side as Jason lifts it. He feels— He feels more settled now. Less nervous, though butterflies still flutter between his ribs.

Jason watched Tim’s fingers probe gently around the bruising. The purple has started to fade to a greenish hue, but it still hurts when he prods it. Jason’s quiet, pained noises are soothed with soft rumbles and fingers rubbing his shoulders.

When he’s done, Tim’s hand lingers, laying casually on his waist. Jason’s skin would normally be prickling, but—

It isn’t.

It hasn’t this whole time, any time the alpha touched him.

“I don’t feel any cracks or breaks. Did— Were there any injuries to your back?” He’s no longer rumbling.

Jason misses it already. There’s a part of him that wants to snuggle up to him, see if he can’t coax that rumble back out.

He ignores it; instead shaking his head. “No. They— The, um, the boss said they were supposed to keep me as uninjured as possible. Any punishment had to be careful not to leave a mark.”

Tim hums. He strokes Jason’s skin with his thumb, and then slips his hand from Jason’s waist. It—

Jason finds that he misses it.

Tim leans forward, finally opening the first aid kit. It’s stocked, full of things Jason has names for and things he doesn’t. Tim takes out two things: the first, a small jar, and the second, a bottle of puppy’s Tylenol. Jason—he doesn’t like it, but he can’t really argue with it. Not at his size and weight and everything. They’re pills, at least, and chewable too,

Jason examines them carefully before he takes them, washing away the chalky flavor with the drink he’d been given before.

Tim unscrews the lid of the jar. The cream inside smells herbal, though not unpleasantly so. Jason holds out his arm, relaxing into the couch as the alpha works the cream into his skin.

It’s easy to let his eyes fall half-lidded. Jason is warm and sleepy. The air is thick with protective alpha scent; it soothes his hind-brain, the part that is purely omega, purely pup and longing for the comfort and safety of pack.

A small voice in the back of his mind is screaming, telling him he needs to keep his guard up.

It’s easy to ignore like this. To focus on nothing but gentle hands on his skin and the ambient noise around him; the hum of electricity and the distant noise of outside traffic.

Jason drifts.

He barely registers when the alpha switches arms, coming back up only to croon confusedly when Tim stops touching him. He blinks up at him, and gets a kind smile in return.

“Hush, pup,” the alpha soothes. “I’m going to get us something to eat.”

Jason blinks slowly at him and hums in acknowledgment. Tim gets a blanket from—somewhere, and lays it over him. It’s soft. Jason likes it. He nuzzles into it, into more of the alpha’s scent, and sighs.

He can hear Tim moving around in the kitchen—the clatter of dishware and pans, the bubbling of boiling liquid, the sound of his soft footsteps. He can smell something savory—chicken, he thinks, and garlic.

He drifts again, stirring only when Tim nudges him gently. A steaming bowl of soup is pressed into his hands.

“It’s hot,” Tim warns, a bit unnecessarily.

Jason still burns his tongue on the first mouthful. He doesn’t care. Having the food in front of him has made him realize how ravenous he is. His bowl is empty far too soon, though he’s too stuffed to go back for seconds.

His empty bowl is taken from him, and then Tim returns again. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs. “I’ve got a spare toothbrush you can use. A spare den, too. I’ll get you some nesting materials and pajamas while you brush your teeth.”

Jason reluctantly leaves the couch and blanket behind, shuffling down the hall and into the bathroom. Tim procures a toothbrush for him, and then leaves.

It’s a relief to brush his teeth.

His captors had done it for him, so rough his gums had bled and ached. They still bleed under Jason’s gentle ministrations, but at least it doesn’t hurt. By the time he’s rinsing his mouth, Tim has returned, a bundle in his arms. He offers it to Jason.

“Clothes,” he says, a little unnecessarily.

Jason takes them, and Tim leaves again, giving him privacy. Jason goes to shut the door and then—

Hesitates.

He doesn’t want it open. But— He doesn’t…

What if he shuts it, and it won’t open again?

He’s. He’s being silly.

There’s no way this apartment has more than one bathroom. Trapping Jason inside here would be dumb, and he doesn’t think this alpha is dumb.

Jason takes a deep breath. He shuts the door.

Except—

He doesn’t. The latch hits the frame and Jason stops. His heart thunders in his ears. His breaths come sharper, quicker. He can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Tears burn in his eyes.

It’s not fair.

He rests his head against the frame; one hand cradling the bundle of clothes to his chest, the other gripping the doorknob.

God. He’s so fucking pathetic.

He shudders. Takes a deep breath. It shakes on his exhale, a tremor in his chest. It’s fine. He doesn’t have to shut it all the way. He can leave it like this, with the metal latch over the door frame, only the tiniest sliver of hallway visible.

It’s fine.

He’s fine.

Jason strips quickly, clothes falling into a puddle at his feet. He yanks on the pants the alpha provided. They’re a little short at the ankle, and he has to draw the drawstrings all the way out for them to stay up, but. They fit well enough.

The shirt, too, is a little big, hanging off slightly at one shoulder. It doesn’t show his breasts, and hangs down to his mid-thigh, so Jason doesn’t mind.. Both pants and tee are soft on his skin, not scratching like the other set did.

There’s a hamper. Jason drops his old clothes in, though he’d much rather see them in a dumpster somewhere. The jacket—

Jason hadn’t realized how much it had been comforting him until now. Without it, he feels almost naked. Exposed. He wants to put it back on again. He resists the urge, though. Instead, he straightens it as best he can, then folds it in half and lays it on top of the hamper before he exits the bathroom.

Tim isn’t in the living room any more, and Jason stands, nibbling on his lip. Maybe he should go for the door… but. He can’t bring himself to. Instead he stands there, uselessly, until he hears rustling further down the hall.

He approaches tentatively, and finds Tim in the den at the end of the hall.

Tim glances up when he hears Jason approach, and smiles a little. “I was just getting out some nesting materials,” he says, gesturing.

In front of him is a cushioned nest base, held off the ground by a wooden frame. Piled on top of it is—

Jason had been expecting maybe a couple of blankets and some pillows, but—

The blankets are piled tall; the one on top Jason recognizes as the blanket he’d been using on the couch. There are plenty of pillows, too—and padding, for added layers, and cushions, and, it’s… It’s a lot.

Jason’s throat feels a little tight. “Thanks,” he says, voice small.

“Of course, pup,” Tim says gently. He’s pulled his scent in tight now, but when he draws nearer, Jason catches a whiff of safehere and everythingsokay drifting off of him. His hand moves slow enough it would be easy for Jason to avoid it, but. He stays still, letting the alpha brush his knuckles over his cheek.

“Goodnight, pup,” he murmurs. “If you need me, I’ll be just down the hall.”

Jason nods. The alpha’s hand drops, and then he leaves.

The rest of the den… It’s not bare, but it lacks a personal touch. There’s a chest of drawers in the corner closest to the closet; a nightstand by the nest; and curtains hanging over the window. He shuffles further in, leaving the door open behind him.

He leaves the nest alone for now. Instead—

He goes for the closet first, opening the door. It’s bare inside, except for a thin layer of dust. Jason shuts it again. He opens the drawers, as quietly as he can. Empty as well. The den smells— Not stale, it’s definitely been used before, but. He catches the barest hints of alpha scent, and other than that… It just smells clean.

Jason rubs at his eyes.

No more putting it off.

As much as he doesn’t want to… Jason doesn’t shut the door all the way. Instead, just like in the bathroom, he leaves it open the tiniest sliver. Anything more, and he won’t be able to sleep. Anything less—

Panic.

Even the thought makes his heart race.

Jason rubs his face. He hates this. He hates it so much. Fuck. Sometimes it feels like life is just out to get him. Like—someone or something out there wants him to suffer.

Stop it. Plenty of people have it worse than you do, he scolds himself. He’s safe right now, or— He has the illusion of safety, at least. The alpha is being nice. Jason is— He’s not bound up. The door isn’t locked. There are no bars on the window. Tim treated his injuries. Held him when he cried. Gave him food and something to drink and soft clothes.

And he’d given Jason plenty of material to make a nice, comfortable nest to den in. One that might finally satisfy the instincts that have been screaming at him.

Jason takes a breath, and pads over to the nest. The sheer amount of material before him is almost overwhelming, but… He goes through it slowly. He starts with the padding, layering it into the nest base and using the cushions to help give it shape. He tests it as he goes, until he has something that’s plush, but not so much that it will engulf him. He works a nest cover over it. It’s a bit of a struggle to get it on, but Jason manages; only a little winded by the end. What padding and cushions he didn’t use—

He decides to put them in the closet, where they’ll be out of the way.

Blankets next.

Jason sorts through the pile slowly, rubbing each on his cheek. Scenting them. The one he used on the couch is the strongest scented; still thick with the contentment he’d felt in the alpha’s arms, and the protective, comforting scent Tim had drenched the air with.

He ends up using a little over half of the blankets Tim provided. The rest he puts in the closet.

Pillows—

Jason doesn’t use as many of them. He ends up putting most of them in the closet. And then, finally—

His nest is done.

He stands back, surveying his handiwork. He trills with pride, running his hand over the edge. His nest is soft. Cozy. It needs— It needs books. And— His fox. He misses his fox, the one his mom gave him. He kept it— He managed to keep it safe, all this time.

It’s probably gone now. Or ruined.

His eyes sting, and he swipes at them roughly.

Jason is so tired of crying.

He climbs into bed, pulling the blankets over and around him, snuggling down into the pillows. It feels—

Safe.

There’s something missing, though. Jason— He’s not sure what it is, but—

He’ll worry about it in the morning.

[good-wine-and-cheese]

Mermay!!! I get to make fish people AUs :)

Tenma is a merperson/siren/variant whose son was caught by a fishing vessel (and was either thrown back only to die of his injuries, or has not been seen since, his status unknown) which leaves Tenma resentful of the humans he was already suspicious towards. He has taken to attacking ships and has become something of a folkloric monster spoken of in hushed whispers by seafarers. He collects mechanical parts from wrecks (his own or others) to a secret cavern where he has been building an automaton in the image of his son that he hopes to use to exact final revenge on the humans that took his child from him.

Somewhere along the line he finds himself critically injured - many ships know of him now and have been arming themselves to fight back - and he's forced to flee, fully expecting to die from his wounds. Instead, he finds himself cared for by a bizarre human (Ochanomizu as like a marine biologist or something, there are many benefits etc) who seems not to care about the warnings told of his monstrous nature. Tenma fully intends to kill him when he recovers - and says as much, often - but Ochan keeps taking care of him regardless. And unfortunately, he's quite charming. Over the course of taking care of Tenma, Ochan shows him human kindness exists and convinces him not to take revenge on all of humanity (and, well, his plan probably wouldn't have worked anyway and do you really want to see the image of your son destroyed again)

In the alternate version where Tobio might not be dead, Ochan helps him find his son :(

[katsurakotarou]

Gintama really went and said we don't have enough fujos as fans what are we doing. That's episode 48: introduction to ginhiji

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

Jon becoming KiTN in Winds (specifically) would actually be bad as far as themes go