#all of this to say....... they hate this time of year and tend to be grumpier and more of a problem than usual until early january

[sugary-daydreams3]

Quiet inbetween [Sukuna x Reader]

Summary: Collections of quiet, cozy, intimate moments you share with Sukuna, who thinks you two won't last a year. Someone who used to live a wild, fast-paced, loud lifestyle couldn't possibly be fit for a long-term relationship. But he doesn't know that you're the one he needed this whole time.

Word Count: 3.7K words

Rating: Mostly fluff with a little spice (sexual content) at the end, but no full explicit content. Mostly T with a little M.

A/N: Happy holidays y'all. This might be my last fic posted in the year so I hope you guys transition into the new year safely. Goodness, do I love writing my A.U. version of Sukuna. So fun and flirty that he makes me blush sometimes and I control what he says. But I guess that's a good thing, right. Sadly my next fic is dealing with a not so fun topic, haha. (It's Gojo-centric, so you might know where I'm going with this) Anyways, stay safe out there and I'll see you again in 2025. Enough yapping from me, enjoy!

Normal, quiet moments tend to bring discomfort within Sukuna. Dating trouble as a teen limited his time to sit and enjoy the small pleasures of life. He was all about the grand, overwhelming, taboo pleasures that one wouldn’t dare chase but rather daydream about. Or worse, make simulation games about and live out their guilty pleasures vicariously through fictional characters. But with taboo pleasures come consequences which landed him in jail for some time.  

Within the year after his release, he met you which slowly inspired him to alter his fast, vicious lifestyle. You introduced him to things he never would have found himself participating in. Things he used to tease his twin brother for being a sheep for society for. A mom-and-pop coffee shop was one of them.  

“How do you drink this shit?” Sukuna sticks out his tongue. Tanned liquid trapped in your mouth almost spills. Air blows from your nose, signifying your amusement at Sukuna’s first experience with coffee.  

Swallowing down the first sip of your coffee, your eyes admire Sukuna’s childlike distaste for your go-to morning beverage. “Because I order mine with cream, sugar, and caramel. You’re pretty much drinking burnt black water.”  

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”   

You give him a “really?” look. “I said you should start out with the caramel Frappuccino but you said, and I quote.” You notch your voice down several pitches lower. “The hell I look like drinking that sissy shit.”  

“You could have recommended me any other drink but this. This was a terrible first impression.”  

“I can order you another one to make up for it.”  

Sukuna pouts. “I’ll pass. I fear I’ll be disappointed again.”  

“Sukuna, you just drink straight black coffee, you can’t write the whole thing off just because you had one variation of it. That’s like saying “I hate potatoes” because you ate unsalted, lukewarm fries.” Sukuna scrunches his face.  

“That’s not the same.”  

“Yes, it is. It’s a perfect comparison.”  

“It’s two completely different scenarios. You really thought you schooled me with that, huh.”  

“Shut up. I’m ordering you a new drink.”  

Waiting for his redemption cup, Sukuna stares at you typing away on your laptop computer. Your hair curtains over part of your face, tempting Sukuna to reach over and fix it. Yet the messy hair curtain highlights your beauty so effortlessly, he couldn’t stop adoring your natural radiance.  

The strong smell of roast occasionally makes its mark. Ranges of chatter mingle with the loud cycle of brewing and baking. Quirky, cheesy posters hang all over, providing a drowning sense of positivity and relatability. Generic chill music slithers through the atmosphere, failing to chill Sukuna’s social anxiety. Thankfully, his new drink just came to save the moment.  

Taking a drink from the flat white laced with sugar and cream, he sits back to allow his brain to register. His eyebrows raise with a small smack of his mouth, giving you some hope that coffee redeemed itself on the oh so great Sukuna’s tastebuds.   

“Well?” You ask impatiently.  

“Not bad. Could use more sugar but it’s drinkable.” Sukuna reviews. A pleased smile killed your worry. “I’m glad you gave it a second chance. I hope we can have more coffee dates like this.”  

Sukuna narrows his eyes. “This is a date?”   

Your eyes roll. “No this is a job interview.”  

“I’m not one for customer service but if I get to look at you all day long and the pay is good then sign me up.” You hate that something as corny as that made you blush.  

“Hush Sukuna, of course this is a date. This is like our twelfth time seeing each other, I like to think all of the time we spent together so far wasn't a waste of time.”  

“Ooh someone’s no-nonsense.” Sukuna smirks, large arms crossed.  

You sigh, “I’m just over the hookups and the flings. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t just one-and-done me.”  

“Eh, all of the one-night conquests and strictly sex ordeals were starting to get stale. You got a nice face with a body to match. You’re on no bullshit and are fun for the most part. You haven't bored me yet so I don’t mind continuing this.”  

“Yet?”  

“I tend to get bored with my women so I wouldn't hold hope of this lasting past a year. Just letting you know so the heartbreak will hurt a little less.”  

You smirk, amused by his lack of filter. “Well, a year will be record breaking compared to my recent relationships these last few years. So bring it.”  

Your polished nails navigate the grassy fields of dusty pink, natural hair oil inked on your fingertips. Your poor thighs are weighed down under his dumbbells for arms. Your other hand caress Sukuna’s right bicep, fixating on the jet black tattoos contrasting with his pale skin. He rubs your left knee as he rests against your stomach.  

Sukuna releases a deep sigh, letting go of the temporary stresses of life. He’ll rather die than admit it but this is what he mostly looks forward to when he goes about his day. It took him a while to get used to you being positioned behind him, often side eyeing the first few times you two were like this.   

Call it trust issues. Slam the non-medical diagnosis of PTSD resulted from a rough upbringing and life as a criminal. Or if we’re really getting psychological, throw out the fancy “internalized misanthropy” word. Re-fucking-gardless, he’s always been highly aware and on guard whenever people are in close proximity to him, ever since he was a kid.  

Now, the more he allows himself to turn his brain off in your lap the easier you hear him lightly snoring within several minutes. You giggle as his resting figure emits loud snores thirty minutes in of scalp scratching and head caressing.   

“Sweet dreams.” You reach down to peck warmth on his forehead.  

Your wishes go unnoticed as child-like ease warps itself across face tattoos and a sharp jawline. A surprisingly dynamic clash.  

Your laughter saturates the kitchen space accompanied by music from the vintage radio. Flour dressed your behemoth all over, making it the sight of the century. Sukuna frowns as he attempts to smooth the pizza dough with the rolling pin. Tears edge your eyes; the catastrophe he was causing was funnier than any standup comedy.  

“Hush. You're breaking my focus.” Sukuna was struggling to knead the dough enough to be a thin foundation. It usually ends up shaping to be a deep dish or just a regular sized pizza. This was his third effort to mold the pizza, with two “epic failures” baking in the oven.  

When your laughter demoted to light chuckles, you rub his arm for support. “You know I can help you shape the dough. It took me fifteen tries before making an objectively decent pizza.” Sukuna shakes his head.  

“That’s because you were the one making it. It’s gonna be perfect this time.” Sukuna smooths out the dough and smirks at his “perfectly” thin pizza. You roll your eyes and walk over to gather the cheese and other toppings.  

The pizza rises within the oven, gluing the toppings within the cheese. Sukuna watches it carefully from the kitchen island, like his life depended on whether this Thursday night dinner was great or not.   

A marathon of T.V. commercial ramblings was bugging background noise as you tidied up. The other two pizzas sat on the cooling rack, being forgotten tasty mistakes. Flour ages his hair many decades, snowing down his chest with every tiny movement. He turns to see an unlikely troublemaker look down at him, a small hill of flour ready to be thrown from your palm. Sukuna narrows his eyes with a challenging look.  

“You’re playing a dangerous game, darling.”  

“Game on.” You threw it, igniting a two-man war.  

The remaining time for the perfect pizza to cook filled with flour fights, spotting majority of the kitchen with white powder. The cooking timer goes off as you two lay across the table exchanging flour and zeal between prolonged smooches.

This epic fantasy was seducing your imagination during the mundane hours of the late evening. You sense Sukuna spying on you and your book from the corner of your eye. However, the clever arrangement of words trailing above your bookmark helps you ignore him.  

“How do you read these things? That shit looks bigger than The Bible.” Sukuna pokes at the spine of your novel, trailing over the gold-engrained lettering.  

“I don’t judge stories based on length. If it’s engaging enough then I wouldn’t mind reading three hundred-plus pages of something.”  

“Where do you find the time to invest in a story that long?” Sukuna wasn’t even teasing at this point; he was genuinely curious.  

“People watch 10 seasons worth of television or animes with more than 100 episodes.”  

“Watching TV and reading are different no matter how much you try to make them feel the same. I can simply turn on the T.V. and watch 100 episodes of something without exerting much energy. You have to sit up, read so many words, and decipher hundreds of pages worth of story. It’s not the same.”  

“True, I’ll give you that. I just find it funny that people draw the line at consuming a story through reading only because you have to put a little more effort in it.” You bounced back.  

Sukuna rubbed his chin. “I remember being into poetry and haikus a lot as a teenager. But I started getting involved in other shit so I lost interest along the way.”   

You snap to him, no longer being a silent witness to a passionate kissing scene. “You like poetry?”  

“I suppose. I always liked how poets managed to craft thoughts so elegantly. Perfectly describing the complicated or unsaid.”  

“You know the local bookstore down the street has a whole section of poetry books. What’s your favorite poets? I could buy you some of their latest work.” Your comforter became a temporary bookmark with your book lying face down.  

“Hmm, I don’t really have a favorite poet. I used to buy a bunch of random poetry or haiku books and kept the ones that stuck with me. There is one writer that I really like though...”  

You wait in anticipation as you witness him in thought. Simple things like racking his brain makes him a cutie. Sukuna snaps his fingers.  

“Ahh, Yosa Takahama is his name. His work is usually written in Japanese but some translators re-publish them in their mother’s tongue. His work is hard to find around here though. I don’t even know how I managed to snag one of his books in the first place.”  

Despite the challenge, you were determined to get it for him. “I’ll figure out a way to get you one. That way we could be reading buddies.”  

“You don’t have to do all of that, doll. You’ll rip your hair out trying to find those books. I’m fine watching you ignore me in favor of a book that can knock your teeth out.” You chuckle.  

During the rest of the night, you noticed the boredom on Sukuna’s face as he mindlessly consumes television. The least you can do is try to hunt down this haiku book for him. Dating him for some time, he confessed to losing touch with so many hobbies he grew up with over the last few years. You wanted to bring that inner child back to life, killed by proving to the world how tough he was.  

Getting him to read something that actually interests him can be another way to embrace the innocent pleasures in life. You can tell he misses that wild delinquency some days, but you hope he doesn’t miss it enough to end this relationship over. If you can find it, hopefully it can be a building block that rebuilds his new path after leaving the old behind. Anything to help you be closer to him.  

6 weeks later 

Sukuna emerges from the bathroom. The odors of the food he cooked from his restaurant today were replaced with standard soap and his natural scent. Like every other night, you sat with your book, seemingly ignoring Sukuna’s lingering stare.  

After dressing himself, he sinks on the mattress and attempts to lay against his pillow. His thick neck isn't met with the soft cushion but instead a hard surface in the middle area. He stares at his pillow, offended for it not providing comfort, so he lifts it up. A white hardcover book reveals.  

“What’s this?” He asked, not turning to you yet. You shift from the words to your boyfriend’s confusion. “I don’t know where that came from. Maybe the book fairy paid you a visit.” You played dumb.  

“You’re so corny.” He holds up the book.  

“A corny girl you’ve been dating for almost a year now.”  

“Quiet. I’m trying to see what this is.” Sukuna didn’t even examine the title, the pages of the book flutter until he lands on a random page. He reads aloud.  

“Vindictive winter / A white, mighty rabbit looks / betrayed by the king / ...wait.” Sukuna looks at you and you copy his shocked expression.  

“This is Yosa Takahama’s stuff. How did you even get this? This must have cost you a fortune.”  

“It was costly and took me weeks to find a readable copy but the look on your face right now makes it worth it. I wanted you to read with me instead of being a T.V. zombie. Even if that means reading mind fuckery haikus.” You chuckle.  

Sukuna grabs your waist from the side and unleashes many wet pecks around your cheek, neck, and upper chest. You giggle as you brush his hair and hug him back.  

“I appreciate it.”  

“No big deal.” You replicate his cool cat version of “You’re welcome.” that he usually throws at you. Sukuna smirks at the playful imitation.  

The rest of the evening is spent with you two lost in your own worlds of literature. Your brains mixed imagination, broadened perspectives, and emotional intelligence from honeyed words inked against the white.

“I’m too big for this tub. You barely have any room to stretch your legs.” Sukuna commented.  

He adjusted his position behind you, the bubbles shifting from his large body. Your feet rested on the tip of the tub to keep from smushing against the porcelain. You turn to him, offering a reassuring smile. He snickers at your ridiculous face mask, particularly the cucumbers concealing your eyes.  

“No, you’re not. You say that every time you get in with me. You’re fine Kuna, really.”  

Sukuna rests his arms around the top edges of the tub, leaning back to make himself comfortable in his slightly cramped soak. The warm water, Epsom salt, and meditation music playing from your phone kneads away the hidden tension that plagues his body from the everyday.  

“Before I met you, I haven't taken a bath in almost fifteen years.” He confesses.  

“That sounds so disgusting out of context.” You cringe. Sukuna chuckles.   

“You know what I mean.”  

“I can’t imagine going that long without a bath. Baths are way better than showers.” You admitted.  

“Showers are for a quick wash. Baths are more for relaxation.”  

“I shower for fifteen minutes minimum, thirty-five minutes max. I spend about three minutes just letting the hot water hit my body and think about whatever. There’s no way I can just shower for ten minutes or less.”  

“Is that why you’re so smoking.” Sukuna flirted. You shake your head, “That was so corny, Kuna. C’mon you can flirt better than that.”  

“You’re right. I just wanted to see your reaction.”   

You two enjoy each other’s company. The heat protects you from winter and the sheet of bubbles float around and pop within. Sukuna arms lay over yours, rubbing over your wrist. Sukuna focuses on your face and develops a sense of mischief.  

“Babydoll.”  

“Yeah?”  

“Turn around for me.”  

You quirk a brow but obeyed by slowly turning his way. In a swift motion, Sukuna moves forward and bites off the cucumber sitting on your right eye. Your right vision sees Sukuna munching on your edible eye mask.  

“Really, Kuna? You couldn’t resist temptation to eat that?” You scolded. You take off the other cucumber, abandoning your hopes to keep your eyelids nice and fresh. Sukuna steals the other cucumber from your hand and flings it in his mouth.  

“You’re impossible to relax with sometimes.”  

“Thanks for the snack.” Sukuna mumbles through chewing.  

You sigh then lay against his chest and close your eyes. If he was going to interrupt your beauty routine the least he can do is be your pillow.

Sukuna big toe hugs your own after caressing your right foot. Both of your feet poke out from the thick blanket, suffering from the gentle lashes of the nippy air condition. You rest your head on his squishy but firm chest, goosebumps forming from his rough hands brushing your skin.   

“We should light the fireplace.” You suggested.  

Sukuna let out a lazy sigh, “What you really mean is that I should light it.”  

“Yeah, you should.”  

“I could but I fear I’ll turn into a popsicle.”  

You giggle. “Hey, at least you’ll taste good.”  

Sukuna smirks, “I already taste good. You should know out of anyone.”  

You playfully shrug. “Eh, you’re alright. No fine dining though.”  

“Oh really?”  

“Yep.”  

“How about you taste this then.”  

Sukuna leans down and traps your lips in the moment. His lips were smaller than yours yet they managed to govern the heat stirring between each lingering kiss. The frigid air in the room is forgotten in your minds as you and Sukuna make out under the grey blanket. After a couple minutes of sensual touching and lip pulls, Sukuna goes for your neck.  

“Well?” Sukuna lands soft bites inches under your chin.  

“I was just kidding earlier but that was...”  

“Better than fine dining?”  

“I don’t know what’s better than fine dining but, yeah, better than that.”  

Sukuna chuckles, “Glad to remind you.”  

Sukuna “accidentally” lands a hard bite just above your collarbone, caging a pleasured groan within closed lips. Sukuna kisses the forming red patch, “Sorry baby, got a little greedy there.”  

“I hope I give you a brain freeze.” You joked, trying to take your mind off the aching spot.  

Sukuna hooks his finger around the side of your silk underwear, his other hand slowly appreciates your ass. “I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

Your body slowly rocks on top of him, the yellow and orange from the fireplace illuminate your dips and curves. The aftershocks of your second orgasm calm down, giving you the signal to stop riding him. One hand caresses the trimmed hairs sprinkled across Sukuna’s chest. The other traces the small gold chain decorating his pecs. Sukuna squeezes the body fat from your hips then pats your left butt cheek.  

You hop off and lay down on the blanket you set down for your second round. Sukuna pulls off the condom and gets up to throw it away. The contained fire warms your naked body from a distance, defending you from the army of white cold. You hum while the fire entertains you until Sukuna comes back. He’s wearing the boxers he had on earlier with the embroidered knife patterns. Where he got those kinds of boxers you may never know.  

Sukuna drops the pillow he stole from the couch then sits down on the blanket. He pulls you towards him and you two lie down together. You perform his signature trait, pushing his hair back, enabling his wild look. Sukuna traces your spine, quietly admiring both how strong and weak one’s bone structure could be.  

“I never thought I would enjoy silly things like sitting in front of a fireplace during winter.”  

“It’s silly?”  

“Not really. I guess I just associated this with Christmas activities. Christmas always seemed too cheesy to me so I associated things like this as silly holiday stuff.”  

“Yeah, I get it. Sex in front of the fireplace, just silly wholesome Christmas activities.” You joked. You instantly felt Sukuna’s laughter rumble throughout his chest. After calming down he gives your arm a light pinch.  

“You know what I mean.”  

“I’m just happy you allowed me to bring some mellow in your life. I remember when I met you, you were always in some crazy illegal trouble. It seemed like I could barely keep up with you and your fast-paced lifestyle.”  

“Yeah, it was fun for a while, I’ll admit. Even getting caught had some sort of thrill. Now that I’m pushing thirty, I just feel over it.”  

You chuckle, “Not a spring chicken as you used to be.”  

“Yeah. I suppose every hot shot has their limit.”  

“Well, I’m proud that you’re beginning to settle down. I know your brother is too.” You rub his cheek.  

“I was surprised when he offered to help me set up my fight clubhouse. He’s usually against violence and shit.”  

“Maybe he thought that it would be a nice distraction from your life with crime. Even if it meant supporting you doing something he also doesn’t like. Like a lesser of two evils kind of thing.”  

“I never knew someone so predictable yet unpredictable at the same time more than him.” Sukuna said. You giggle then sprawl your hands across Sukuna’s abdomen, trailing over the ridges in a playful matter. Sukuna tender gaze studies your features as he softly pulls little cushions of your skin.  

“Thank you for sticking with me.”  

You look up to see the wild orange shadowing his strong features. His usual too cool-for-school attitude was replaced with a loving nature only reserved for you. A nature molded by small, seemingly insignificant moments sparked by a mutual agreement of casual dating. You plant a few kisses against his jawline then lay back on his chest.  

Before your eyes close for the night, you slur a few words that gets a smile out of Sukuna. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”  

[amorchai]

𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐘𝐒.

⭑ ttpd collection!

pairing(s): draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader

summary: someone who falls for a troubled boy with a history of hurting those close to him, but they believe they can change him.

words: 1783

warnings/tags: angst with some more angst, draco being distant, self-deprecating and sad, just sadness while r is the warmth to save him.

redemption and growth didn’t mean much forgiveness to everyone. if harry potter was able to move on and understand, why couldn’t others? it was all draco malfoy could focus on when returning to the reimagined hogwarts shortly after the battle resulted in the finality of voldemort.

his father was lost, sure he was relieved but more so mentally drained and his mother tended to him quietly, peacefully. leaving draco to board the hogwarts express alone and vulnerable of the stares and judgement he was sure would continue throughout the year.

and it did. glares in the halls, backs turned in the slytherin common room and draco couldn’t stand one more sympathetic set of eyes from pansy parkinson and brutal silence from blaise zabini.

apparently throwing harry potter his wand didn’t mean people forgot who he was before. it made sense, but draco didn’t feel like trying to make a new introduction of himself in his final year of school. the sooner his grades were achieved, the sooner he left school, got a job, and moved away from everything he hated in life.

it was easy pushing his friends away, they didn’t say much to him anyway, and draco was sure that was due to the loss of goyle during the battle. his thoughts had never been louder as they were, spent alone in the library, in his lonesome dorm or the moonlit corridors during prefect patrol.

the astronomy tower cleared his mind, the cool nightly air sweeping across his tired skin in early hours of the morning when he should be patrolling for any misbehaving students. his feet are found trudging up the steps almost every night.

only this time, it was occupied. draco was ready to threaten punishment, trudge to headmaster mcgonagall’s office the moment it was a reasonable hour until he realised it was the familiar hufflepuff he’s known since first year.

you’re looking out towards the dark highlands, once would bring an eery and scary atmosphere now comforting and sending you a sense of solace you desperately needed when patrolling the lower grounds became overwhelming and boring.

draco’s feet pause to take in your frame for one quick moment before he turns to leave briskly, but your voice cuts into the crisp air, “draco?” when he turns you’re now looking at him, slight confusion clouding your expression.

“i was just leaving.”

his voice is firm but quiet, unable to deal with another glared look but he’s only met with a shake of the head, “it’s okay. i should be getting back anyway, you should stay.” with hesitance, draco watches as you step back from the railing, and withdrawing from the shadows, draco’s shoes tap against the concrete.

“are you okay?” you ask as if it’s simple, as if you and draco were close and his eyebrows furrow darkly at the question. “no,” he responds truthfully, eyes tracing over your frame when you very slowly move from your spot and near where he stands.

“want to talk about it?” you then ask. draco was unsure what you needed from him; he never hated you but he never liked you either. you were just there. nothing less, nothing more. you were always briefly brought up in late night conversations from years before – crabbe, goyle, and him discussing whom they found attractive. and draco was always teased for bringing your name up yearly.

but that was it.

“no.” his response is more firm, and you nod afterwards, “okay.” he didn’t understand the way you were looking at him, it wasn’t painfully horrible like other students or pitiful sympathy like pansy. somewhere in the middle, draco believed.

you’re beside him, eyes watching each other in the dark of the night and draco expression panics when you lean up to press a small kiss to his cheek – sudden comfort at the feeling of your warm lips against his cold pale skin.

when you begin to pull away, draco turns, breath hitting yours and you freeze. you’re centimetres away from each other, eyes daring and dark and the only thing draco can hear apart from your heavy breaths are the owls in the distance.

it urges him to move, lips pressing to yours, at first ghostly and light but the moment you kiss back his hands are cupping your jaw to press his lips daringly deeper. calloused fingers trace your skin, sad lips moving against yours, moulding perfectly together until they weren’t anymore.

your hands are squeezing his robes, heavy pants mixing as you try to regain your composure. however, before you know can properly process it, your hands are forced to drop as draco steps away and he’s gone down the steps of the tower, out of sight.

from then on he was cold, distant. you tried to talk to him about what happened but he only made you feel like you were following him like an abandoned puppy; packing his things and desperately leaving the library when you enter or steps trudging away during patrol before you can properly see him and approach.

draco stops going to the astronomy tower altogether, in fear you were there, waiting. which you were. you could survive on your own, sure you yearned for more but you wanted an explanation more than anything. why initiate a kiss to then ignore you straight after as if you don’t exist?

however, while draco stayed away his thoughts were overcome of you. he had no friends to consult with, his mother and father were preoccupied and would scold him for having thoughts outside achieving perfect grades.

it was pure warmth in a cold, cold war. he could still picture the heat of your lips and willingness to lean into your attractive, soft nature – inviting and daring. draco hated himself so he couldn’t love another, not when no one else in his life cared anymore, so he stayed away.

therefore, draco was confused why his feet dragged him back up the tower one stormy night. his chest is tight and head picking up a headache from the heavy frown he wore. it only deepens the moment he arrives to the empty building, pattering of the rain hitting the edge of the bricks and thunder breaking through the sky in the distance.

his fingers trace the rain-soaked railing, thoughts trailing back to you desperately. still yearning, wanting. the ashen hair trapsing over his forehead tiredly as his green robe floats from a gust of wind.

“i think what you did was brave,” draco jumps at the sudden voice, familiar and immediately inviting him to turn around and catch your gaze. “what?” he asks, murmured and lost, fingers numbing from the cold air and metal railing.

you tut, keeping a distance from him, “standing up to voldemort, risking your life to give harry his wand back.” draco shakes his head, turning his head back to face the mountains across, “don’t.”

draco can hear your footsteps as you walk closer towards him, “don’t what?” you ask when he looks down at his reddening-fingers. he chuckles loosely, in what you can only depict as self-deprecating before draco instead responds, “no one else does.”

“i do.”

your voice is closer, but draco doesn’t dare turn around and face it. scared of running again, of pushing you away since you may never come back. he wouldn’t expect you to. “you can talk about it, you know?”

your fingers reluctantly grazes his arm, gentle as if he might disappear from too much contact. they move over the uniformed robe, daringly and testing his reaction. draco’s limb tenses under the feeling, head still hooded and facing forward.

“i can’t.”

his tone pains you, he sounds hurt and small compared to how you used to see him, mean and loud. you weren’t sure which one you preferred, neither very appealing but you were still drawn to him, fingers not wavering from their position.

“draco,” your tone is different, hand enclosing around his arm and daring to tug it knowingly. he inhales sharply and closes his eyes, draco shouldn’t indulge because he was only scared of treating you the way he treated his friends; dismissive and distant.

but the blond boy can’t help but turn, eyes finally meeting your guiding ones when he faces you. your fingers trail up his arm and your thumb grazes over his cheek as you lean up to peck his lips before his face is buried into your neck, arms wrapped around each other.

there’s a slight shake as draco cries into your uniform, your fingers soothing over his hair and back as he breaks down. draco knows he should be pushing you off, leaving you here alone to keep from breaking your heart because he hopes to merlin he never has to.

however, draco’s frame can’t seem to pull away from yours, arms encasing your lower back as draco pulls you impossibly closer, the warmth inviting in his cold, dark mind.

the storm outside seems to mirror the turbulence within him, rain pouring down relentlessly as thunder rumbled in the distance. but here, with you, the storm inside quieted, just a little. draco’s breaths were uneven, his chest rising and falling against yours, and yet he didn’t let go. he couldn’t.

“why?” his voice cracked, barely above a whisper, “why are you still here?”

you pulled back just enough to meet his watery grey eyes, your hands steady on his cheeks. “because you deserve someone who sees you, not just your mistakes.” your voice was gentle, but it carried an undeniable firmness, as though daring him to argue.

draco searched your face for deception, for pity, for anything he could use to push you away again. but there was nothing of the sort. only unwavering sincerity. it scared him more than he could admit.

“i don’t know how to—” draco started but faltered, his voice breaking under the weight of his words.

“you don’t have to know,” you interrupted softly. “you just have to try.”

for a long moment, neither of you moved. the sound of the rain and the distant thunder filled the silence, a natural rhythm grounding the both of you. then, as if testing the fragile hope in your words, draco’s hand slid hesitantly to yours, his fingers lacing with yours paired the faintest tremble.

you smiled, a small, sad thing that lit up the shadows in his heart. and in that moment, for the first time in years, draco malfoy allowed himself to believe that redemption wasn’t just a distant dream. it was here, in the warmth of your embrace, in the quiet assurance of your touch, and in the stormy night that began to feel just a little less cold.

amorchai masterlist . taglist

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[eatmycodbetty]

Lockwood Iron Trio Holidays Headcanons...

I know nobody asked for this. And I KNOW I should be working on the third chapter of "You Again"...but the holidays have been busy and you all deserve something for the wait.

Take this hc list for the iron trio during christmas times. All just sfw fluffy goodness to appease the soul :p (plus some x reader for shits n gigs xx)

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Anthony Lockwood:

He isn't too used to being warm with others, but over the years he has gotten quite festive

The holidays tend to remind him the most that he does have a family, so it's a treasured time for him.

He has this one Christmas sweater that he wears the moment December rolls around that George gifted him one year.

Over the years Lucy and George have gifted him more sweaters so he doesn't wear that single one out, but he still tends to wear that one the most. He won't wear it for jobs, but at the house and off the record it's all he CAN wear it seems.

He will help to purchase decorations, but Lucy and George are really the ones to choose what is bought. He quietly enjoys this, they get really excited about which colors and motifs they should use for the year.

He'll help get out the tree and decorate the outside of the house, but the other two fuss too much about the details for him to worry about anything else.

He likes seeing their decorations, it makes him remember that there's other people in this house. He enjoys the comfort in knowing he's not alone and surrounded by people he truly cares about.

He will keep pretending to hate decorating just to see reminders of them dotted around the place.

Loves reindeer. Can't explain why, but he tends to have reindeer on any festive stuff he uses. That sweater he loves so much? You better believe it has a reindeer pattern on it. Bedsheets, mugs, slippers, anything- reindeer.

Favorite Christmas story? Rudolph. It's one of those pieces of nostalgia that doesn't make him sad, so he revels in the comfort of the oddly heartwarming story.

Even when he's wearing his suit out, he has Christmas socks on underneath TRUST

x gn!reader: He would stop at nothing to keep you warm. Even when you're just fine. Getting you a blanket, a jacket, HIS jacket, any warm drink your heart desires. He does it subconsciously but also he doesn't ever want you to be uncomfortable.

"No, no. I couldn't bear it if you caught a cold. I will be fine, I promise...just please put on the jacket, it is absolutely frigid."

Lucy Carlyle:

Loves to decorate with George (and annoy him because he can be a bit of a stickler when it comes down to it)

She likes to make little arts and crafts for the house and associates.

Little cards and the like are given throughout December whenever she feels like it. Kind of scrapbook-like and decorated well.

She goes to charity shops for SURE.

Little trinkets or dumb things will make their way onto George or Lockwood's desk with a little tinseled bow and notecard at random.

She is the least festive of the three, but at some point in their relationship she got comfortable with showing them that she does care during the holidays, because she tends to forget to say it most of the other time.

Her favorite holiday motif is a snowflake. Not because it is sensitive, but each one is so unique and pretty.

It's a nice reminder that there are natural and pretty things outside of the Problem.

She has a snowflake necklace that she rubs when nervous around the holidays.

Norrie gave it to her, and she stubbornly refuses to wear any other piece of jewelry during the colder months.

It's a simple silver charm, kind of like a comforting safety ward.

x gn!reader: She loves to go out and watch the lights that people put up. Something about the community aspect of everyone decorating their yards is admirable, and so she likes to be reminded of the lighter aspects of humanity. Long walks around London to see the lights whilst huddled together riddle your December.

"I wonder if they know that a few of their bulbs are out...OI! Where did your hand go??? It's too cold for you to escape me, come here!"

George Karim:

Will be way too serious about the Christmas dinner.

Like he HAS to make a great feast and it WILL taste amazing.

He would love if everyone helped out, but to be very honest anyone else in the kitchen tends to stress him out, so he's fine being the food-making freak each December.

Helps Lucy decorate, as he has done it for years before she came along and knows where to put things that go well with the house.

He likes the differences in their decorations, she makes it more fun rather than bare minimum decorating like he does.

He has kind of been forced to have Christmas spirit being the only one living with Lockwood for so many years, as having something lighter to think about during the winter is essential for working well

He has a family recipe for hot cocoa that he prides himself in, it's one of his secrets that he brings out every year.

There's a list of books that he saves throughout the year to read during the holidays.

Usually folklore and fantasy books that stay in the spirit of things, he tries not to mix work research with personal time if he can.

UNLESS it is about history that is also fun and spirited- he's still a bit of a (loveable) nerd.

x gn!reader: Reading on the sofa over ANYTHING. He loves to get a nice blanket to share and read for hours in each others warmth. His hot cocoa a staple for your reading sessions. Usually you end up with your legs entwined, talking about what you learned from your separate readings, updating each other as you keep going late into the night.

"You know...I really never asked you to hang out with me when I read. However, I really enjoy your company. And your warmth...more than you know. Thank you, y/n.."

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Thank you all for reading!! Let me know if you agree or have anything you can think of to add- I love hearing other people's headcanons for our favorite trio!

Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, and Happy Kwanzaa!!

I will be updating with the third chapter as of next week! I have to survive the weekend and I'll be back to writing again. Have a great rest of December!! - ives :p

[mymoshangthoughts]

it's prolly time i talked abt my theories for luo binghe and airplane having similar personalities

so i have like separate theories about how exactly the multiverse works in svsss canon and what the system is and airplane's specific relationship to god-hood that i should prolly make a post about to explain BUT

before that i wanna talk about the influence between protag and author lol

oki airplane might be a hack author but he isnt the type of author who can only write self insert characters. still, there is something to be said about relating to your protagonist and something else to be said about method acting

like sometimes when you get so fair into someone elses head for writing (or acting) purposes, certain traits just stick. your personality can influence the character your write but also the personality of the character you write can influence your own, it's a kinda funny lil quirk of people. it's a lot to do with cognitive dissonance, our brains don't like inconsistency. so if you spend all freaking day writing about a character who fucking loves pizza, even if you kinda hate pizza, you'll start to feel a certain want for pizza. because you've basically been telling your brain for hours "PIZZA IS THE BEST, WE LOVE PIZZA". you're not gonna change your tastebuds lol, the power of suggestion isnt THAT strong, but it can definitely make you second guess "do i hate pizza....? should i try it just one more time??" and look, if you really hate pizza, you'll still hate pizza. this isn't some "personalities can change dramatically via the power of suggestion" post. BUT if you were maybe just meh on pizza or your hatred was overblown bc of a bad experience, you might find that you didn't hate pizza that much.

so if you spend all day writing like a machiavellian manipulative bastard, if you generally don't have a manipulative bone in your body, you're not gonna become machiavellian overnight. but if maaayybbe you have some machiavellian traits that you normally don't explore bc Society or Morals or Whatever, you might start to lean into those traits more

it's a bit of the same sort of thing that positive self-talk is supposed to do. it tends not to work well if you say something you absolutely cannot believe, but theres something to be said about influencing yourself by saying the same thing over and over and over

and its a bit of the same reason that when you're in a long term relationship with someone, you tend to share a lot of traits with them over time, because you're just kinda together that whole time

so basically i like to think that luo binghe and airplane influenced each other. like a two-way street. i think that airplane related to binghe as a person to some extent, prior to even writing, bc it's easier for a lot of people to model their protags after a personality that they find personally relatable, so there was a bit of a core similarity between them. not a "we're the same person" sort of bullshit, but a more general "we have a lot in common" sort of thing.

and then, after years spent "together", with binghe influenced by airplane's writing and airplane influenced by writing binghe's personality, they developed even more similar traits over time and by the time pidw ended, the two of them had A LOT in common

anyway i want to explore this more lol cuz i think it's fascinating

[eldrichfuck666]

Back to be Away Forever

Hi, dear tumblr people. You probably think that you're having a fever dream or something - considering how long I have been away. A whole year off tumblr. A lot, I know. I missed you dearly, but I'm not really there to return. I just wanted to say something. Something very, very important.

First of all. I've come to realize that I am trans. So, hello again - now my name is Alexander. And I use he/him pronouns - from the April 19th of this year. I've come out to my parents, my closest friends and coworkers. I feel much more content with myself now.

During this whole year, I've been through a rather impossible journey - at least, that's how it seemed to me at first. (And btw, I'm now transitioning. Medically. I've had my breast surgery scheduled to the February of the next, approaching year. Took me... long to realize, did it? And it's all bs that testosterone makes you more aggressive or smth. At least, for me - I feel much more mature and at peace now that I don't silently hate my own body anymore. No more mood swings and outbirsts.

People who hate themselves (and sometimes, not even realize it, like I mostly did - I... I hated not just the body I was born into, but my race. It is... hard to admit, but I struggled a lot with the inner antiblackness that I had towards myself) tend to hate others more. Or... other living things. My hate wasn't directed at people, though - but at creatures that may seem less, but... they're not. I'm truly sorry about the whole insect debacle - I had a very disgusting attitude towards it, and I did know what I was encouraging here. It wasn't a mistake. It was a very, very disdiracted (or whatever is the word) hate and just... overall, not the right mindset. Horrible. Absolutely disgusting for an adult to have. I'm truly sorry. I regained the empathy that I should've had at the very start. I can't imagine how disturbing it was to read... all that. Truly disgusting. And while I didn't overcome the fear (for me, it is still a phobia that I can't really do much about - although, on meds I feel much less unnecessary hatred. Just terror. That's all. I apologize to every single person who has empathy I didn't have. I'm sorry for hurting and making you uncomfortable. It's absolutely shameful and shouldn't have ever happened.

And I fear that this hellsite (I know that it's how twitter is usually referred to, but... well.) made my mental health way, way worse - there's so much hatred, unnecessary drama and overally, not very good people... and for some reason, death threads and other scary, scary stuff that I couldn't react more gracefully to because of how dark was the place where I've been mentally. it would've been all much better if I weren't there in the first place. 2023 was... very, very bad for me. I know blaming it on social media is not very good, but it truly affected me terribly. I regret most of it. While it was a beautiful outlet for creativity, it was also very mentally heavy. Too heavy for me to lift at the time. I should've realized it earlier. I am so fucking sorry.

But... what I don't regret was meeting you. All, all of you still here - and those who have been here with me for some time. I know how unbearable I was sometimes, and I don't know how you (who stayed there) stayed with me longer than one post. One message. Yet... you didn't leave. And you're my very reason for the change.

And to my dear, dear friends, my beloved moots that I've made along the way - I love you all and I sincerely hope that you're in a good place and you're safe. Thank you for the support, for being with me when I was so very hateful, thank you for trying to make me see sense and have discussions. Thank you for being with me mentally thought the years I've been on tumblr. You... you made me reconsider my whole life. And I'm rather lucky that it happened in the start of my twenties - when I am still not so far gone. Each of you, I owe my heart and soul. ❤️

Пишу вам, с огромной любовью (и немного хаотическим сообщением, как обычно) и искренней просьбой о прощении, Ксандер (ну или... По русски, Сашка, наверное? Ужасно, я в курсе.)

P.S. Возможно, через пару месяцев или лет... Вы увидите знакомых персонажей на обложке какой-то неопределённой, странной недо-книги. Может, вы услышите о новом инди авторе - а может, нет. Я начал активно писать - и это оказалось куда более лучшим способом контролировать свой гнев, чем что-либо ещё.

Maybe, you'll hear a familiar name or see familiar features in the author. At first, in German - where I'm most confident in. But who knows... I can't promise anything, but I promise that I won't forget you. Forget your care, your guidance, your love for me... But I feel like the decision I've made is good for both me and all of you.

Because there's pleasant, necessity solitude in writing - I felt like I've regained my sense of self when I began. I have much to work on - especially when it comes to my own being and health. But I can't express this enough - how much you've changed me.

��а этом, с любовью и горечью в сердце, я прощаюсь. Оба мои блога будут удалены через два дня - прямо перед новым годом. Thank you for everything. I will never forget you.

[fitpacs]

,

[byanyan]

ㅤperhaps unsurprisingly, byan doesn't like the holidays — christmas in particular, as it's the most prominent and unavoidable one, and the one they have more experiences with. not growing up consistently celebrating the holiday past the age of four, they don't have any real positive attachment to it, and having it shoved so violently in their face each year, being surrounded by kids in school who are always so excited about it... it's always felt quite alienating. it's a very lonely time of year when everyone and everything around you is going on and on about family and you haven't got one.

although most years the only thing they've had to look forward to is the christmas dinner that the group homes they've been in have tried to provide, they have had a few experiences of what a more traditional celebration is like through foster homes they were living in during that time of year. the first one, when they were five, was... actually pretty okay. it was just them and their foster family, and they still remember having fun playing board games and watching movies, and how good the food at dinner was. they even got a couple of gifts from their foster parents. ...it was only the second christmas that they weren't celebrating with their first family, and they remember crying when those gifts were handed to them. another was when they were ten, with a foster family they hadn't been with for more than a few months. there was a lot of extended family in the house, none of whom they knew, and it was an incredibly overwhelming few days, during which they felt very much out of place. they didn't feel like they belonged and ended up spending most of their time hiding in the bedrooms to avoid the awkward conversations people would try to start with them so they didn't feel so left out. at one point, they remember sneaking out to go buy themself a hot chocolate with a bit of money they stole out of their foster brother's piggy bank to cheer themself up and to have a bit of quiet. no one noticed they were gone, and they weren't sure whether they were glad or disappointed.

at best, the holidays are an annoying time of year highlighted only by the two week break they get from school, and at worst, it's a reminder of all the things they've never had or the things that have been torn from them. even the positive memories they have have been soured by the way the kindness and the families didn't last, making it near impossible to look back on any of it fondly.

[dogearedheart]

8i've been thinking about the last asks i got today. and i think it's better for me to take a step back from this account. i know the anon didn't mean anything by it, but i still feel like i am being a negative presence on here and weirding people out with who i am is nothing i want. so, i am not deleting or anything. i am just gonna be less present with sharing personal things or leaving tags. I'll probably be more active on my second account where i don't have that many followers :)

[butchvamp]

honestly my blog being fucked and this website overall just becoming so actively hostile (the userbase and the staff/website itself) might actually finally make me log off

[medicinemane]

The world is set on prescriptivism and... it doesn't jive with me

[some-random-fandom-chick]

.

[kaijutegu]

Alligator Body Language and You, or: How To Know When An Alligator On Social Media is Being Stressed for Views

Alligators are wild animals. Despite the idiotic claims of animal abusers like Jay Brewer, they cannot be domesticated, which means they are always going to react on the same natural instincts they've had for millions of years. Habituated, yes. Tamed, yes. Trained, definitely. Crocodilians can form bonds with people- they're social and quite intelligent. They can solve problems, use tools, and they're actually quite playful. Alligators are also really good at communicating how they're feeling, but to somebody who doesn't spend much time around them, their body language can be a bit mystifying. And it doesn't help when social media influencers are saying shit like this:

That is not what a happy gator looks like.

That's a terrified, furious gator who isn't attacking because the ogre handling her has her in a chokehold. She's doing everything she can to express her displeasure, and he's lying about it because he knows his audience doesn't even know how to think critically about what he's doing. He knows that because his audience doesn't know anything about these animals, he can get away with it. This I think is why I hate him so much- he deliberately miseducates his audience. He knows what he's doing is factually inaccurate, he just doesn't care because attention means more to him than anything else in the world.

Let's change that! Here are two really important lessons for understanding alligator body language on social media.

Lesson 1: Alligators Don't Smile (in fact, most animals don't)

So what's going on in this video? Jay Brewer is aggressively choking his white alligator Coconut while scrubbing algae off of her with a toothbrush. And make no mistake, he is digging into the creature's throat while she is visibly distressed. He claims she's happy- but she's not. He is willfully misrepresenting what this animal is feeling. That's a problem, because people... well, we actually kind of suck at reading other species' body language. The reason for this is that we tend to overlay our own responses on their physical cues, and that's a problem. For example, let's look at an animal with a really similar face to ours, the chimpanzee. Check out Ama's toothy grin!

Wait, no. That's not a happy smile. That's a threat display. When a chimpanzee "smiles," it's either terrified and doing a fear grimace, or it's showing you its teeth because it intends on using them in your face.

How about a dog? Look at my smiling, happy puppy!

Oh wait no, this is a picture of Ryder when he was super overwhelmed by noise and people during a holiday party. He'd hopped up in my sister's lap to get away from stuff that was happening on the floor and was panting quite heavily. See the tension in the corners of his mouth and his eyes? A lot of the time when a dog "smiles," the smile isn't happy. It's stress! Why Animals Do The Thing has a nice writeup about that, but the point is, our body language is not the same as other species. And for reptiles, body language is wildly different.

For instance, look at these two alligators. Pretty cute, right? Look at 'em, they're posing for a Christmas card or something! How do you think they're feeling?

Well, I'll tell you how the normal one is feeling. He's annoyed! Why is he annoyed? Because the albino just rolled up, pushed another gator off the platform, and is trying to push this guy, too. I know this because I actually saw it happen. It was pretty funny, not gonna lie. He's not gaping all the way, but he was hissing- you can actually see him getting annoyed in the sequence I took right before this shot. Look at him in this first shot here- he's just relaxing, and you can see he isn't gaping even a little bit.

By the end, he's expressing displeasure, but not enough to actually do anything about it. He's annoyed, but he's comfy and that's where one of the best basking areas is, so he'll put up with it.

Reptiles open their mouths wide for a lot of reasons, but never because they are actively enjoying a sensation. Unless they're eating. No reptile smiles- they can't. They don't even have moveable lips. If a reptile is gaping, it's doing so because:

It is doing a threat display.

It is making certain vocalizations, all of which are threats. Alligators are one of the rare reptiles that do regularly vocalize, but most of their calls aren't made with a wide open mouth.

It is about to bite something delicious or somebody stupid. Check out this video- virtually all of the gaping here is anticipatory because these trained gators know darn well that the bowl is full of delicious snacks. (I have some issues with Florida's Wildest, but the man knows how to train a gator AND he is honest about explaining what they're doing and why, and all of his animals are healthy and well-cared for, and he doesn't put the public or his staff at risk- just himself.)

It's too hot and it has opened its mouth to vent some of that heat and thermoregulate. This is the main reason why alligators will often have their mouths part of the way open, but sometimes they'll open all the way for thermoregulation. This is what a thermoregulatory gape looks like- usually it's not all the way open, kinda more like < rather than V, but you can't say that 100% of the time. Additionally, a thermoregulatory gape... typically happens when it's hot out. If they're inside, maybe they've been under their basking light for too long. Heat's the dominant factor, is what I'm getting at.

There is another reason that a captive crocodilian might be gaping, and that's because it's doing so on command. Some places have their gators trained to gape on cue, like St. Augustine Alligator Farm and other good zoos. They have the animals do this in presentations that are genuinely educational. They ask the animals to open their mouths so that they can show off their teeth and demonstrate how their tongues seal off the back of their mouth. They'll also do it as part of routine healthcare, because looking at their teeth is important.

In this case, the animals aren't gaping because they're stressed, they're gaping because they know they're gonna get a piece of chicken or fish if they do it. And what's more, they're doing it on cue. They have a specific command or signal that tells them to open wide. It's not an instinctive response to a situation. It's trained. If the animal provides the behavior after a cue, the situation is much less likely to be negatively impactful.

It's also important to remember that there's a difference between a partially open mouth and a gape! As discussed above, alligators will often have their mouths a little bit open just to maintain temperature homeostasis. It helps them stay comfy, temperature-wise. These guys are all doing thermoregulatory open-mouthed behavior- that slight open and relaxed body posture is a dead giveaway. (That and it's the hottest spot in the enclosure.)

Lesson 2: A Happy Gator Is A Chill Gator

So if alligators don't smile or have facial expressions other than the :V that typically signifies distress, how else can you tell how they're feeling? One way is stillness. See, alligators subscribe to the philosophy of if it sucks... hit da bricks.

Basically, if they hate it, they'll leave. Unless, y'know, somebody has their meaty claws digging into their throat or is otherwise restraining them. (Restraint isn't always bad, btw. Sometimes the animal is going through a medical thing or needs to be restrained for their safety- which a responsible educator will explain.)

Let's look at a very similar scenario, in which a captive alligator is getting his back scrubbed.

As you can see, it's quite different. First, he's not being restrained at all. Second, look at how relaxed he is! He's just chilling there vibing! He could simply get up and leave if he wanted to, because he's not being held. Towards the end of the video, as he lifts his head, you can see that his respiratory rate is very even as his throat flutters a bit. I'm not sure what this facility is, so I can't comment on care/general ethics, but like. In this specific case, this is an alligator enjoying being scrubbed! And you can tell because he's not doing anything. A happy gator is content to be doing what they're doing.

Why Should I Listen To You?

Now, you should ask yourself, why should you listen to me? Why should you trust me, who does not own an alligator, versus Jay Brewer, who owns several?

Well, first off, there's no profit for me in telling you that what you're seeing on social media is in fact not what you're being told you're seeing. I'm not getting paid to do this. That's the thing with people who make social media content. The big names aren't doing it just for fun. They're doing it for money. Whether that's profit through partnerships or sponsorships, or getting more people to visit their facilities, or ad revenue, you can't ignore the factor of money. And this is NOT a bad thing, because it allows educators to do what they're passionate about! People deserve to be paid for the work that they do!

But the problem starts when you chase the algorithm instead of actually educating. A "smiling" alligator gets the views, and if people don't know enough to know better, it keeps getting the views. People love unconventional animal stories and they want those animals to be happy- but the inability to even know where to start with critically evaluating these posts really hinders the ability to spread real information. Like, this post will probably get a couple hundred notes, but that video of Coconut being scrubbed had almost 400,000 likes when I took that screenshot. Think about how many eyeballs that's reached by now. What I'm saying here is that it's just... really important to think critically about who you're getting your information from. What do dissenters say in the comments? What do other professionals say? You won't find a single herpetologist that has anything good to say about Prehistoric Pets, I can tell you that right now.

Another reason you can trust me is that my sources are not "just trust me bro," or "years of experience pretending my pet shop where animals come to die is a real zoo." Instead, here are my primary sources for my information on alligator behavior:

Dragon Songs: Love and Adventure among Crocodiles, Alligators, and Other Dinosaur Relations- Vladimir Dinets

The Secret Social Lives of Reptiles- J. Sean Doody, Vladimir Dinets, Gordon M. Burghardt

Social Behavior Deficiencies in Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Z Walsh, H Olson, M Clendening, A Rycyk

Social Displays of the American Alligator (Alligator mississippiensis)- Kent Vliet

Social Signals and Behaviors of Adult Alligators and Crocodiles- Leslie Garrick, Jeffery Lang

Never smile at a crocodile: Gaping behaviour in the Nile crocodile at Ndumo Game Reserve, South Africa- Cormac Price, Mohamed Ezat, Céline Hanzen, Colleen Downs (this one's Nile crocs, not American alligators, but it's really useful for modeling an understanding of gape behaviors and proximity)

Thermoregulatory Behavior of Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Cheryl S. Asa, Gary D. London, Ronald R. Goellner, Norman Haskell, Glenn Roberts, Crispen Wilson

Unprovoked Mouth Gaping Behavior in Extant Crocodylia- Noah J. Carl, Heather A. Stewart, Jenny S. Paul

Thank you for reading! Here's a very happy wild alligator from Sanibel for your trouble.

[weirdsociology]

hey writers we have to talk.

if you've read any romance or fanfic in the past twenty years (i know you have), you know that there are a certain number of scents associated with hot dudes. you can probably recite the list of Things Men in Fic smell like in your sleep: leather, black pepper, pine, sandalwood, "something uniquely him", clean sweat, and if the character has ever fucking been within 50 yards of a firearm, something called "cordite".

here's the thing.

NO ONE SMELLS LIKE CORDITE.

cordite was a highly specific type of smokeless gunpowder developed in the 1890s by england specifically and used mostly in wwi.

if your good-smelling guy is not (a) english (b) using a very specific type of british rifle (c) dying in a trench in flanders, he does not smell like cordite. technically even if he does meet all those conditions he still doesn't smell like cordite because he smells like trenchfoot.

the point is, cordite is so far from universal that no one but the most hardcore gun nerds give a single shit about it. making your Sexy Hero smell like cordite is like naming a cassette-only bootleg live recording from the 1970s as your favorite grateful dead album. everyone at the party hates you immediately and knows you're doing it for clout. also, it's just factually... wrong. please stop. i know everyone else is doing it, but you can do the right thing here, i believe in you.

so what do people who are using guns smell like?

well if your story is set before the late 1880s, the smell of a fired gun is black powder, which, unfortunately, smells like seventeen flatulent cows have been shoved in a tire factory. trust me, you do not want your Hot Dude to smell like black powder. it's b a d.

if your story is set after the late 1880s, guns are using some variety of modern 'smokeless' powder - which speaking broadly doesn't really have a ton of scent when used. it does have some, but it's sort of non-descript: the best way i can describe it is the sweet, ozone, hot-plate smell of popping your car hood with a warm engine.

people who use guns a lot don't smell like fired guns all the time anyway, so while those scents might work in a fight scene, they're not realistic all the time. but there are some things that your Sexy Shootist will smell like basically 24/7 and that's metal and gun oil. metal you can go and sniff (i recommend non-stainless steel), but if you want a reference, most gun oils have a sharp, organic smell that's not dissimilar to canola oil but muskier and with a tang overtop. it's not unlikely leather is in the mix as well due to routine handling of leather equipment and gear. modern gear also tends to have a certain smell although it varies by production country and storage conditions - lots of opportunities there.

in conclusion: gunslingers and hired killers and military folks can be sexy and smell great on page, but i am begging you not to say "cordite" when you mean "gunpowder" ever again. we can do this. we are writers and therefore pedants. i believe in us!

[bluerosefox]

Siblings Behavior

It's shenanigans time guys

So have this DpxDc idea.

So, the Justice League and the Light (OR villains in general) have two newish members, they've both been around for about a year and they're from the same plane of existence (a place called the Infinite Realms according to those who dabble in the occult)

And the two seem to have some serious beef with each other.

Wisp and Wrath are basicly feral cats hissing and hekles raised when they spot the other and their fights normally ends in draws. They're evenly matched and sometimes the two even fight to the point they are out of steam and just fist fight.

Needless to say everyone believes they totally hate each other and might one day kill (or end?) One of them.

So everything gets turned upside down when suddenly both factions of heros and villains are suddenly summoned to the Infinite Realms.

In a throne room.

In front of the Infinite King (or most commonly known as the Ghost King)

A King who looks very, very much like Wisp and Wrath (like yeah the two do sometimes look alike, like when they grin with sharp teeth and their hair color, but one has blue skin and red eyes for crying out loud!)

He's staring at them, glowing green eyes that seemed to just... know.

"Welcome to the Infinite Realms. I am King Phantom." His voice echoing in the throne room and seemed to rattle them deeply, like a sudden chill in the early morning.

"I have summoned you all here for a single reason." He continued to say "Tell me..."

Here he paused, closed his eyes before leaning back on the chair then he smiled big and cheerfully asked.

"How are my kids doing in your world? Dan and Ellie aren't causing too much chaos in their wake are they? They tend to go a tiny bit overboard sometimes but what siblings don't when they rough house you know. Tell me everything."

[bunnis-monsters]

Devoted

Yandere!Knight Elf x Princess!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober

Oct 15th

Oct 14

Oct 16

summary: your knight is having scandalous thoughts about you…

warnings: dirty thoughts, nudity

Devoted.

It’s what every knight was, devoted to those they protected, devoting their bodies, hearts, and souls to the royal family and their safety.

But for your knight… it was more than that.

He had spent years wandering the earth, despising human kind for the slaughter of his brethren. To him, humans were selfish and cruel creatures that cared not for nature or other beings, only for their own personal gain.

That was… until he met you.

He had been starving to death, an intentional choice on his behalf. The world had rejected him, taken away all of his loved ones and left him to be all alone, with no one to share his long life with.

When a carriage passed by the tree he leaned against, the place he had picked for his final rest, he hadn’t been expecting a woman to jump out and run in his direction, lifting his chin and pouring cool water down his parched, dry throat.

“Gods, you’re skin and bones. Are you alright..? No, of course you aren’t…”

Within moments, you were flanked by several men in armor, men he would later come to know as royal knights.

“Princess, please return to the carriage. It is not wise to interact with… beings such as himself.”

You shot the knight a look and he quickly backed down. “If I were to ignore a dying man when I am able to help, who am I to call myself a princess of the people?”

The elf attempted to pull his head away, but was both too weak… and too mesmerized by your beauty to do anything but let you feed and nurture him as he was taken back to the palace.

Over the next few days, he was taken care of thoroughly by the palace staff, his every need tended to.

He found out by listening in to the maids outside his room that you had ordered all of the palace to take care of him as if he were royalty himself.

You quickly scolded anyone that dared to even play with idea of discriminating against him due to him being an elf. It was… refreshing, and he felt strange hearing a human speak of him as if he were a person.

As he recovered, you visited him as much as your duties allowed, chatting with him and making sure he was being treated well.

He felt strange when he started looking forward to your visits, even wanting to recover faster so he could stay by your side at all times.

And he was able to achieve his dream by moving up the ranks as a knight, eventually becoming your personal guard. It wasn’t easy, the training was grueling and he was mistreated for being an elf…

But a year later he kneeled before you as your personal knight. He put the work on and climbed the ranks… all for you.

It didn’t take long for him to gain your trust. After all, you were a kind and fair princess. You didn’t judge him for being an elf, something he had never experienced before. He was your knight, and you believed in his strength.

And when he took over protecting you, he started to get a bit… greedy.

He didn’t like that other people got to see and touch you. They were filthy humans who only wanted to use and abuse you.

Even the maids helping you dress and bathe would coo soft compliments, saying how they adored their princess and wanted nothing more than to see you happy.

But he heard what they’d say in the hallways. He would hear their hateful words and gossip. They hated you for being royal, for having a better life than them,

They didn’t know you like he did.

Slowly, he began gathering evidence against each maid and butler, every single body guard and knight that attended you was either fired or executed.

No one should be able to be so close to you… no one but him.

It was late one night when he first saw your bare body. You were bathing, him standing by the door, facing it to guard you.

Having been pampered your entire life, you didn’t exactly know how to properly bathe yourself. Now that all your maids had been fired, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“C-could you… help me?”

The tips of his elf ears turned pink when he turned to see you leaning against the edge of the tub, your soft breast squished by the cool surface.

The mere sight of your plump form bare in front of him was enough to have his cock straining against his pants.

“Of course, my princess…”

He sat down on the edge of the bath, slowly easing the shampoo into your hair. After that was your body, and he steeled himself before moving forward.

Moving the washcloth against your soft flesh felt almost sinful. You were his princess, and yet he was touching forbidden territory. Although he tried his best to avert his eyes, he ended up catching sight of your pretty, fat pussy.

It looked so soft, and he could almost picture how cute you’d look all stretched out on his cock. How you’d moan for him to be gentle, burying your face into his neck.

He’d comply, giving you the tender lovemaking you deserved…

After your bath, he had to tuck you into bed before leaving the room to deal with his throbbing erection.

His princess… how he wanted to keep you pure and innocent… but his desires were overwhelming.

Perhaps he could use his elven beauty to woo you and take you away… after all, he could never have you while under that kingdom’s law.

Soon, you would be his…

Want more? My commissions are open, or you can send me a Kofi requesting more!

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[deadsetobsessions]

Danny no longer has a haunt. So… he decides to find another one. And while he technically has a whole world (other dimensions aren’t an option because he’s going to stay near where Jazz’s grave is, damn it) there’s only a couple of other places with enough ambient ectoplasm to sustain him. Nanda Parbat, Tokyo, and Gotham.

Nanda Parbat had a weird old musty immortal that kept trying to summon him and exchange power for the ability to “take a worthy body and rain as much destruction” as he’d like. As if Danny would need a body to bring the world to its knees.

Tokyo… it’s too far from Jazz’s grave. He could ask Wulf or even open his own portal but when Danny tried it out, Tokyo was too peaceful. Obviously there’s crime, but nothing… nothing big like Danny’s used to.

Danny ends up picking Gotham, even if the sewer zombies and the weird group of rich fruit loops with an adoption problem creeps him out. So, he destroys the portal, packs up his parents’ house and sells it, and hauls ass to the cesspool calling his name. His family’s stuff is stored respectfully in a vault located on the deepest parts of his personal haunt in the Infinite Realms.

And honestly, he’s doing better. Sure, he’s got a shitty apartment near another revenant’s almost-haunt and he feels like he’s drowning all of the time, but Danny isn’t in danger of turning into Dan, he’s catching up on royal paperwork, and he’s got like a job as a barista. In his own coffee shop that paid for using his parent’s money (who, despite their hazardous everything, made a crap ton of money off of their more normal inventions).

Gotham’s got some pretty interesting local gangs, most of which respected the sanctity of Danny’s cafe. Sure, they tried blowing it up and tried extorting money from him in the form of “protection costs” but after three months of failure, they gave up.

(Really, the local gangs gave up when they saw him take three shotgun shells to the chest and continued to work.) (They didn’t know it never hit him. Intangibility is extremely useful.)

The Rogues, on the other hand, just gave Danny flashbacks. Their gimmicks are different, sure, but after years of Box Ghost, Skuller, Lunch Lady, etc., Danny’s more than done with costumed villains. They don’t bother him either. Some of the reason is probably due to Harley and Ivy, who had walked into the cafe and (because they were bruised and scratched up from a fight) triggered Danny’s mother hen tendencies. They were promptly fed and watered and caffeinated and their hyenas were also similarly taken care of. They declared the cafe under their protection and that was that.

Red Hood stops by, and begins to interrogate him. But when Danny met his… helmet eyes? The crime lord paused, paid for his coffee, and sat in a corner table of the cafe for the rest of the day.

And he kept coming back?

But Danny figures it’s because Hood was a revenant and people who had come close to death tends to feel more comfortable around him.

(Considering this is Gotham where people almost die every other day? Yeah, he’s pretty much friends with everyone. Or at least, less likely to get shot.)

(Hood does stay because of the King’s presence and the Pit calming itself, but also Danny’s hot and he’s got a sleeper build and Hood definitely did not imagine himself in the place of the heavy box he saw Danny lift effortlessly onto a table. No.)

But of course, the peace couldn’t last forever. But by then, Danny was so antsy, he welcomed the trouble with open arms.

It starts with a clown. Danny knows who he is. He knows who Danny is.

So, Danny has no idea why the clown thought it would be a good idea to aggravate the owner of Gotham’s official neutral grounds. See, Clovkwork? Danny’s learned how to gauge his own political importance!

“HAHAHAHAHA! COME OUT, DANNY-BOY! LET ME TELL YOU A JOKE!”

Danny comes out and grabs a chair, and with a flat expression, says, “you’re not funny and I hate clowns.”

And then he swings and slams the chair into the Joker’s face. Over and over again until Danny’s sure the clown won’t get back up. The thing about Gotham’s outdoor chairs is that they’re mad out of steel and are bolted down to the ground to prevent undedicated thieves (dedicated thieves can and will steal the bolted down steel chairs). The Joker’s hired muscle just watched this scrawny twenty-something year old yank the steel chair and take some of the fucking ground and the bolts with it and beat the fuck out of their boss who is the literal Joker.

They surrender on the spot and is taken to jail. Danny just smiles at the officers who come by and since he’s got pretty privilege and they don’t want to mess with the guy who, again, owns one of Gotham’s official neutral ground and also beat up Joker without breaking a sweat, the officers just lets him go with a warning.

And then the bats comes, and wow, Danny’s playing mentor to a formally dead person again!

But before that, the Red Hood asks for an autograph on the Gotham Gazette article with a picture of a tired Danny standing over Joker’s prone body. Then Hood stammers through asking Danny out (which Danny said yes to because he’s tired, not blind, and Hood is built like a brick house and HOT).

Batman interrogates him. Danny, who can tell that this man needs therapy and is Sad TM, tells Bats that Danny’s died before and that’s why he’s like this. He also calls Batman a furry, but like in a nice way. And then he kicks Batman out with a coffee and a file on Nanda Parbat.

Now, Danny’s got a date to prepare for and he realizes that maybe this is what Jazz wanted for him- to be happy and mostly safe and happy. (Or, happier, he thinks. It’s been a long time since he’s been truly happy, but this might be a good start)