#but he doesn't know what Chuck wants and he doesn't ask because it's easy to slip on his old ways and just distance himself

[driftwithme]

I know Chuck would call Raleigh and stay silent on the line longing for-- for something because movie Chuck would literally stare at Raleigh across the room without a word.

It happens three times in the movie which is a lot considering the movie format and the narrative: when they meet on the hangar, after the compatibly test on the Kwoon and after the Double Event when Herc apologizes for Chuck.

Those three scenes are the opening, middle point and closing of their "rivalry". Each time Chuck could have get closer but he never did and Raleigh somehow got the message? It is a bit insane, if you ask me. Maybe j-pilots are better at reading body language? Maybe?

What I know is that their friendship is based on Chuck being unable to express in words his feelings and Raleigh patiently waiting for him, giving him the room to ponder and find the solution himself. It frustrates Chuck that he's not good at communicating because he wants to be good at everything, feel like he's good enough, so he burst thinking Raleigh will eventually get tired of him, but he never does. Somehow Chuck comes around every time to see Raleigh was waiting and the idiot just accepts whatever Chuck tells him 'cause he knows how much verbal communication means when it's Chuck doing it.

Also? I know that Chuck Hansen is capable of living alone but that doesn't mean he would like it. He lived his whole life with his family and then with his dad sharing his head, even when Chuck was trying to isolate himself for whatever trauma he had. One of the things that hurt him the most in the movie was the absence of his dad and his mom! He loves Max so much because it means he's never truly alone! He is an action and physical type of guy, those are his love languages!

If Chuck ever gets really close to Raleigh and Mako, or anyone on that matter, he's gonna miss them being there. It took almost dying for him to accept he's touch starved, okay? It's so bad it hurt when someone touched at first, not real pain but he'd panic a bit and he would get this urge to keep his distance and all that. After years of therapy he got used to Mako hugging him or Herc clapping his back or Raleigh playfully ruffling his hair, so now it feels abysmal when they are not there with him to comfort him like that.

If Chuck is in love with Raleigh and if they had became friends and if Herc and Mako were busy with work and Max was sick, the loneliness would be too much for Chuck. Old wounds and tendencies would try to go back specially if he's in Sydney.

And I think all it'd take is a word from him for anyone to fly there. Chuck knows too 'cause he refuses to tell Herc or Mako to go make him company, also the reason why it is hard to admit he misses his friend. Chuck second guesses a bit too much and overthinks every scenario and he wishes Raleigh would get it and fly there and they'd fall in love in the city his parents fell in love and Max will be okay and-- but he forces himself to be a bit more bitter realistic. Raleigh tour through USA is to get the program more support. He has a job and it is important. Max is okay either way. He's just overreacting. Loneliness is common even more when it's his first year living alone.

I love Chuck so much and I know he'd be too stubborn to admit that he doesn't want to be there or live there like he thought he would. It was good to try to do it, to explore the world and his options outside of the program. It is not a mistake, he did learn, now he knows what he wants. He knew the pain wouldn't go away like that. He knew it wouldn't be easy, kaijus or not kaijus.

It's just that he's tired and stressed and very traumatized, okay? I wish I could grab him by the cheeks and let him know it is not a sin to want a little romance, to go back to the life he thought he didn't want but he does, to be young and make mistakes, to be human.

Chuck makes me so !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[lukolathoughts]

Miss Nicola - supporting LGBTQI rights

Dearest gentle reader,

I have been itching to write a blog post now for a few weeks, but not really knowing where to begin. There have been frenzied weeks and days of activity, but then silence and the fandom meanders like a lost boat at sea. We are often rudderless without the reassuring presence of our ship captains - Luke and Nicola. This also tends to get the sub fandoms spouting nonsense claiming to have seen Nicola in Birmingham or some ridiculous crap. I didn't want to bother her by asking for a photo! No photo, no proof my friend.

I'll talk about me for a moment. I had a week from hell last week. There was something so upsetting for me to deal with, I couldn't go into work as I was crying that much. Try to explain this to your manager: that nasty comments on YouTube made you late for work. Luckily, she is an understanding person and I have told her about my YT channel. Saying some things out loud to real life people make me sound barking mad. But it is the price you pay for being public on YouTube. It also makes me an easy target. I am used to online trolls and people who hate me for saying that Jake is gay and believing in Lukola, but when the stab in the back comes from a supposed friend, it really is the ten of swords. My phone blew up that much, I opened my eyes that morning genuinely thinking Lukola had launched. My hope turned to ash, when I saw what was really happening. I share this with you all because, I have had to have a reckoning with myself the last week. My online life and my real life are not the same. My real life is way more important and I actually need my job, so messing it up because I've got people I don't really know online saying mean things about me, that are not true, shouldn't matter. But it still hurts. But I also realise, they are trying to stop me sharing and trying to ruin my credibility and reputation in order to send me off into my discord crying never to return again.

Well think again. No one tells a Sagittarius woman what they can and can't do. I am made of stronger stuff. Love will always conquer hate. No one puts Baby in the corner, and I will not stand for it. I have scaled back most of my online life now. It had helped me cope with the last year and losing my friend, but sometimes you have to go back into reality. I'm never leaving the ship though. You'll have to chuck me overboard and I'll still jump back on like Rose from Titanic. "I couldn't go, Jack! You jump, I jump, right?"

Anyway, enough about me. Let's talk about Nic. I love Nicola by the way and nothing I say here is a criticism of her or her choices. I see what you're doing though, miss Nicola. I said in my last blog that the shit would hit the fan when Jake has to start press for his new upcoming BBC3 drama What it feels like for a girl. I will admit I have not read the book. Regardless of who Jake is playing, it is reportedly an all queer cast, a queer director and at least one queer writer that I know of. Why would the director of an all queer cast hire a straight man in a homosexual role? If this show is as big as It's a Sin, that aired on Channel 4 a few years ago, then there will be press and a lot of it. There will be press from queer magazines also. Jake is currently in an awkward position, because some press believe he is in a romantic relationship with Nicola Coughlan, a woman who is also 14 years his senior. So, what will Nicola and Jake do?

Jake is holding onto his cash cow with both hands and Nicola needs Jake to continue to pose as her boyfriend to stop the media digging. But honey, they know. It was clear all the press at the SAG awards knew exactly what was going on and they were not afraid to say it. The 'happy ending' comment levelled at them directly by a reporter, had Nicola stunned and Luke smiling like all his Christmases' had come at once.

Nicola knows what is going on. She knows there is a deadline and she knows if she doesn't extricate herself from the narrative she is dating a gay man, she is screwed basically. What is she doing? She's getting out her, I love gays!! T-shirt, hats, scarfs, sunglasses, whatever. She is doing it. Look at me, I love queers! I love her for this and I already know she is an advocate for LGBTQI rights. She has a ton of gay friends. The fandom knows this of course, but do the general public?

At the Neutrogena event on 27th March 2025, there was a very tall drag queen doing some MCing. We know Nic loves drag queens and has been to many shows, so this is nothing new to us. I'm not being overly cynical that the drag queen might have been there for a reason, right? Neutrogena is a product that is targeted at women mostly for their skin products. What has that got to do with a drag queen? I just found it odd.

Next up we have Nicola's Pink Pony Club Post that she shared to both her Instagram stories and grid last Thursday 10th April. The song by Chappell Roan is synonymous with the gay community and one that Jake danced to at her concert last year in a pink cowboy hat. "You guys, remember when my old flat was a gay hotspot!" Nicola, posts 4 polaroid's of her looking fabulous in pink and lays them on a pink blanket. What made you feel so nostalgic, Nic? Or are you sending a message? Look at me, I have loved my gay besties for donkey's years. Prominent gay friends such as JVN and Jack Rooke commented all in agreement, that indeed, Nic's flat was the place to be. And, no I do not think Nicola is coming out herself as gay. Get real, she is supporting her friends and peers.

Then there was yesterday's selfie of Nicola wearing her black - 'I just wanted to say if you are trans and reading this, I love you and so do all my mates' T-shirt. There a few other details in that post that other bloggers such as @toriaaniin have covered beautifully, so I won't go into it here. My eyes sprung wide when I saw this post. I know she advocates for the charity Notaphase.org and I commend her for doing this, but two queer posts in a few days seems to be a lot for Nic, when lately she hasn't been posting at all.

There is also the male hairdresser Halley Brisker in her Opalex video on her Instagram, They make a big deal of letting us know he flirts with male makeup artists. Nicola is clearly good friends with Halley and it is an endearing watch. But to me this seems like a lot of overkill in the last few days for the general public to look at her Instagram and instantly know, yes Nicola does love the girls, the gays and Luke Newton. (FYI Halley Brisker is married to a woman and has children, but to the general public this conversation is implying Nic is comfortable with these conversations).

This, in my opinion, is setting the stage for the final act. I can see Nicola doing some sort of article or interview where she clears a certain narrative up. If you notice, Douglas has also been quite forceful again in implying certain things about Jake and Jake himself does not stop others from posting suggestive posts and videos of him. Nicola must remove herself from this mess in order to move forward with her own career and life. Hanging onto old connections are no longer serving her personally and professionally. Her engagement on Instagram is down by a lot, so I'm told and she is losing followers. She has done all she can career-wise for Jake now, he has to make his own way.

If this does not happen and we remain in this weird heteronormative bubble, I fear the press for What it feels like for a girl, will be a shit show. The truth will come out eventually and it will drag both Jake and Nicola down with it.

[thatoneautisticshark]

Hii

Idk if you already wrote something to it but your poky!tf141 with subby Simon got me thinking.

Simon is obviously subby, Kyke is kind of a subby switch, Jonny a switch (at least in my hc). And John is a dom obv.

But what if John needs this kind of relief yk? Having an empty head and glassy vision. What will the boys do? And how will the boys do it?

oooh yessss! That's cuteeee. Okay soooo

It's not something price likes admitting, trying to ask someone else to take the reins doesn't come easy. So they ended up with almost a code phrase. Of brownie points.

It started because if someone dimmed price when he needed it, price would, subconsciously, treat them a little nicer. You know more little gifts, and more jobs they liked. So they of course the boys began joking that having him sub for you gave you brownie points.

Except then it turned into and actual phrase they used. If price, albeit rare as it was, felt the want to sub, he'd simply text the group asking if anyone wanted brownie points and usually have one if not two of them in his room within ten minutes.

Johnny was the usual Dom but Kyle helped a lot. Simon only dimmed him a very few times, but was incredibly sweet, even tho his domming usually didn't involve sex.

So there's the idea, lemme story it real quick.

John leaned back against the couch in his room with a groan. He just needed a relaxer, all this paper work was doing his head in, and he could feel the urge to dip into that sweet little headspace.

And so he pulled his phone out, shooting a text to the chat with his boys, simple and too the point.

"Brownie points?"

In a minute, all three men were in his room, Kyle and Johnny heading over to him, and Ghost curling up on the bed, evidently not interested in the sex at the moment but wanting to be around them... and probably help with aftercare.

John had learnt quickly that simon adored giving aftercare. And he was good at it too. Nothing brought John more calm and down from his high then curling up against those great big tits.

Kyles hand landed on his face, gently rubbing his cheeks. "You need a little break yeah? Just need your boys, and going all subby."

John nodded mutely as Johnny's hands found there way to his hair. "Fuck Bonnie, such a good boy aren't you?" He cooed, slipping Johns shirt off and chucking it aside.

He then took full advantage of the new expanse of skin, kissing and licking a few small bits, as the man beneath him softly moans, head lolling in Kyle's arms.

Kyle gave a soft chucking, scratching the others scalp with on hand as the other made it's way to undo the belt. "Aw such a pretty boy~"

John was already way out of it by the time kyle grabbed his dick, already in that nice floaty headspace, feeling warm and happy. Softly whining at the contact with his dick.

When Johnny picked him up, he squeaked slightly, already too deep to care about the noise, his legs automatically wrapping round the others waist as he was lifted.

He could see the silent communication between his sergeants, about what they would do, but couldn't be bothered to work it out, he trusted them.

He got placed on the couch, on this front, cheek resting on Kyle's dark plush thigh, the mans hands already making their way to thread in his hair. "You think you are up to taking dick love?"

Kyle knew he wasn't nearly as experienced as any of them at it, so simply gave the choice and would take whatever John was willing to give.

The captain nodded blearily, softly nosing at the length, tongue darting out at the tip, eliciting a wonderful hiss from above him.

He had truthfully forgotten that Johnny was there, at least until he felt a warm tongue slide in his arse. He couldn't help the whine that escaped him, burying his flushed face in the junction of Kyle's hip and thigh.

Johnny was eating arse like a starving man, hands gripping Johns hips so hard there'd be bruises, and John could barely focus on Kyle's dick, but continued licking at it, earning hushed praises that made his head swim.

A yelpy moan escapes him as the tongue actually presses in. Johnny immediately pauses, hands rubbing his captains back. "Okay?"

John nods "Yeah... i.. I'm okay.."

Kyle's hand found its way back into his hair, as John canted his hips against the couch. It wasn't long before he was coming undone with a punched out whine.

It was only when Kyle pulled him upright, fingers wiping his cheeks, with a worried expression he realises he was crying.

A warm large hand landed on his back, Simon.

He barely registered being picked up, and placed on the bed, between Simons thighs, as hand massaged his shoulders, but he relaxed into it none the less.

Sorry it took a minute, trying to work out how to make this go was struggle!

[dollypopup]

I guess what I find most funny about the 'She should call off the wedding because of Colin's entrapement line!' crowd is like. . .y'all really don't get Penelope at all, do you?

She has loved this man for YEARS. She's loved him through his engagement to someone else, she's loved him through him saying he wouldn't court her, she's loved him through multiple countries, through her family mocking their closeness, through a potential marriage to a Lord. She loved him so much she couldn't even DENY having feelings for him to save what she thought was her only chance of getting married. Do you know how easy it would have been for her to go 'No, we're just friends, I don't like him like that, you're proposing to me and that's what matters'? She couldn't denounce her feelings for him even THEN. Even when she doesn't think he reciprocates them and she's made peace with a life with Debling and is expecting his proposal. Colin was *always* first in her heart, through all those hurdles.

Because Colin has been kind in a cruel world, and he's made her laugh, and he encourages her confidence and he's warm and he's gorgeous and he centers her and he values her and he listens and makes her feel desired and beautiful. He's a good man, and her love for him makes her feel good, she treasures it. Even in the books she says it feels good to love a good person, whether he loved her back or not. And now she knows that he does and you think one line that Colin says in obvious hurt after finding out she's been hiding a secret persona for him is enough to shake that love? She spent what? Half a decade looking out her window pining for him and now on the eve of getting to live a life with him as husband and wife, she's going to chuck that away because of one sentence? How lowly do you think of her? How *stupid* do you think she is? To throw away the love of her life over what? Her pride? This fandom's OOC Fanon Pen is a disservice to Penelope's actual character.

Her love for Colin is steadfast. It's made of tougher stuff than all that. It has survived everything that has been thrown at it. Distance, other people, Portia. And y'all really, truly believe that a singular statement will make her go 'Naw, I don't want it anymore!' PUHLEASE. Even when she offers him that annulment, you KNOW she knows it's not on the table.

Stop playing. OF COURSE she didn't call off the wedding. Of COURSE she chose to understand where he was coming from and went 'I didn't mean to trap you, Colin, I love you'. Of course she asks what the marriage will be and is comforted by the fact that he still wants to go through with it.

Penelope Featherington has loved Colin most of her life. It has been one of the few constants in her existence. He has been good to her in said existence, consistently. He's listened, he's cared, he's apologized to her, he's taken ownership of his actions, he's invited her to be more open, he's joked with her, he's supported her, he saw her when she was invisible. She. Loves. Him. And for good reason.

It's not going away because of one line. Or two. Or three. Come back next time when you actually understand her.

[moodybluemoon]

pretty like the sun

warning: lots of self loathing, misogyny (not from any of the drivers) but i think that’s it 👉🏼👈🏼

words: 2.5k

lando norris x fem!reader

there's always been something unspoken between you and lando, at least, that's how he feels. it's something he notices whenever he gets nervous around you, how every lingering touch leaves him wanting more. it's overwhelming, really, the urge to hold you close, to be more than just your friend.

something that started out as a little crush when charles first introduced you, but morphed into something deeper during the last two years. something that keeps him up at night, thoughts of you constantly on his mind, like you're a breath of fresh air he longs to take in.

sometimes, he allows himself to think you might feel it too. like when you rush to sit next to him during press conferences, not like he'd let anyone else sit there anyway, or when he's one of the first people you run to after getting on the podium.

sometimes, he likes to think it's not just in his head.

……

he tries not to let it get to him as he watches you playfully chuck an empty water bottle at charles, who dramatically acts like you've hurt him. you're both laughing when he places his cap over your head and pulls it over your eyes. lando forces himself to turn away and focus on the conversation in front of him, attempting, but failing to ignore the pang in his chest. meanwhile he completely misses the way your eyes fleet over to him.

''are you missing your boy?'' charles teases from behind you when he catches your stare. ''he's not my boy,'' you retort quickly, ignoring the butterflies forming at the way charles referred to him. within minutes, you find yourself standing behind lando in the papaya-colored garage, willing to wait while he chats with an engineer. the guy nudges him though, as soon as he spots you.

''you've come to spy on us?'' he jokes before leaving you two some privacy, shooting lando a knowing look, one you don't see.

''what's up?'' he says, because it's the only thing his brain comes up with. he spends nights awake in bed, thinking of cool things to say to you, ways to impress you, but when you actually stand in front of him, it's like his mind goes blank.

it never seems to come easy to him, he's not like charles.

charles knows how to make you laugh, effortlessly. lando remembers your first grand-prix win, how charles carried you around on his shoulders, celebrating your win. he seems to light up a room with his presence, just like you, meanwhile lando is left in the shadows, admiring you.

thankfully, you don't seem to notice his inner turmoil, and you quickly dissipate his tension. ''this is so awkward, i actually did come over here to spy on you guys.''

''yeah?'' he replies, visibly more relaxed, ''brought your notebook and everything?'' he decides to keep it to himself that if you really did ask, he'd likely spill all their strategies.

…..

it becomes painfully clear to him that he's in too deep, when he drops everything the moment your text lights up his phone, wanting him to catch a movie with you.

''i've decided you're coming with me''

''that so? what if i've got plans?'' he's teasing of course, there's no way he'd ever say no to you.

''you'll just have to cancel them??? obviously'' you're joking too, but you're unaware that he really does have plans with friends, and that he cancels on them without a second thought.

after the movie, you're walking around the city, evening warmth wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. it's the kind of warmth that doesn't require closeness, but, without thinking, you link your arm through his.

it's so familiar, being close with you. lando knows your an affectionate person, he knows. but you're telling him about your day, burrowing your face into his shirt, making his heart race in a way he hopes you don't notice. he's convinced himself that he can never really have this, have you, but being with you like this, casually intimate, is everything he wants, craves.

there's no way you don't feel it, right?

....

you struggle to keep your eyes open as you're sitting next to charles, this being the fourth interview in a row. the bright lights and constant questions start blurring together when the reporter leans in, asking what is presumably his final question.

''so, obviously i need to ask this. there've been quite a few photos of you looking quite cozy with another driver,'' he says, his tone accusing, ''do you care to confirm or deny any rumors?''

it's obvious the question is directed at you. the press had been speculating for weeks at this point, headlines calling you all sorts of names, claiming it was only a matter of time til you'd start 'hopping around'. gossip pages were lapping it up, happy to have something on you.

you open your mouth to speak, but before you're able to say anything, charles leans forward with a playful grin. ''well, i mean, yes, but things between me and pierre are much too fresh to talk about. he is very handsome, and a great friend, but i'm not sure if i like him that way, yet''

you stifle a laugh, thankful for charles‘ quick wit, and it seems to shut the reporter up, but you know it won't be the last question you'll be asked surrounding this topic.

…

you've been pulling away from him lately, he's not stupid. he goes through withdrawal after a day away from you, and now it's been weeks that you've avoided him. it physically pains him, and it doesn't seem to help that you seem to cling to charles whenever he sees you.

now he's alone in his hotel room, and sleep doesn't come easy. the others persistently asked him to go out with them, with max telling him he'd be missing out. he figures he'll be fine missing out on watching you with charles.

a soft sound interrupts the silence then, he thinks he's imagining it, it's so quiet. but it comes again, a gentle tap at the door, and he's surprised to find you on the other side of it, dressed in your pyjamas.

''can i stay with you?'' you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

he wants to pull you into his arms immediately, desperate to make the sadness in your eyes disappear, desperate to make it all okay.

''you didn't go with them?'' he asks softly, before gently pulling you inside. you're shaking your head and quietly say ''charlie said you wouldn't be there.''

the implication lingers heavy between you, and he wants to ask you what you mean, wants to ask why you've been pulling away if that's how you feel, but this is the most you've spoken to him in weeks, and he‘s scared it’ll push you away.

you awkwardly stand in the room, like you're waiting for him to tell you what to do, and he hates it. it feels like everything you had is gone, like you're strangers.

he sits down on the bed, inviting you to sit next to him, your movements stiff. he only speaks up again once you're by his side, hoping to soften the mood.

''seems like they're having fun without us, did you see carlos' story?'' he expects you to laugh, assuming you've seen the video of charles doing the limbo, george cheering him on, but you don't.

''no, uhm, i just deactivated all my social media.'' you're picking your nails, something he knows you do when you're nervous. ''why'd you do that?'' he asks, quietly.

you shrug, pulling on a piece of skin, when he places his arms around you, taking both of your hands in his. it's a gesture that says 'talk to me', and it makes your throat tighten, tears threatening to spill as you realize how much you've missed him lately.

''it just got too much, needed a break,'' you say, voice trembling and lando sighs. it's well known how much frustrated fans love to take out their anger on you, being the only woman on the track. it's something he's always wanted to shield you from, protect you from their mean words.

he also doesn't know that it's currently his own fans targeting you. calling you a distraction, branding you a slut and sending you death threats fueled by jealousy, all because of some rumors. he doesn't know, because he doesn't get the same treatment as you, none of the drivers do.

he gently tightens his grip on your hands, and tears begin to spill. you hate feeling so vulnerable, but his soft cooing assures you that it’s okay, and that he’s here for you.

you have no idea how much it means to him that you turned to him.

''they don't know you.'' he reassures you, ''it's okay that you need a break from it, and if you'll let me, i'll be there for you, always. but you have to know that whatever they're saying doesn't define any part of you.'' he shifts slightly to make you more comfortable, firmly pulling you into his chest. it only takes a few minutes for you to drift off, tears dried on your cheeks. once he's certain you're asleep, he turns off the light, pulls a blanket over you both, and allows himself to place a kiss to the top of your head, whispering ''goodnight, baby.''

he hardly closes his eyes all night, content simply to feel you in his arms, yet it's the best sleep he's had in weeks.

..

he’s drunk, no he’s hammered. it’s charles‘ birthday, and though he didn’t feel like coming, how could he resist your pleading eyes, your ‘but it’s charlie’s birthday‘?

but now he’s sitting across from you, and you’re next to charlie, and if it was difficult seeing you two on the paddock, then he needs a whole new word for whatever this is.

the night you spent in his hotel room seems so far away now, and though he’s never seen himself as a possessive person, what he feels now is more than jealousy. suddenly, the sight of you so close with someone else feels unbearable and he can’t shake the urge to pull you away.

so, before he does something dumb, he does something dumber. he heads to the bar and downs shot after shot, chasing the numb feeling it provides him. it makes it worse though, it’s like he can’t see anything but you.

he pushes through the crowd, feeling like the walls are closing in on him. the bass from the music thumps in his chest, but fades once he reaches the balcony.

he only realises you’re behind him when you speak up. “are you okay, lan?“ he wants to say no. he wants to be mad at you, because why are you making him feel so confused? but he can’t be mad at you, he‘s convinced he’s incapable of raising his voice at you.

so he asks, because he’s sure he’s going to wake up tomorrow with a headache either way. and because for his sanity, he needs to know.

,,why can't you just like me?'' it comes out a little whiny, and the look in your eyes lets him know you didn’t expect this question.

unsure how he means it, you furrow your brows, but your heart is pounding. “you’re one of my best friends, lan. of course i like you.“

he goes to shake his head in disagreement, wincing when the movement makes him dizzy. “s‘not what i mean,“ he mumbles, resting his head against the wall. his eyes flutter shut, sad little pout forming on his lips, and it pains you to see him this way.

„why can’t you like me the way i like you?“ there’s a heavy vulnerability lacing his voice, and you want to say something, anything. yet no words come out.

„it hurts so much, to see you with him,“ he blurts out then, his voice raw. „i mean, this, us, this can’t just be in my head, right?“ he gestures between you two.

“lan, it’s not like that with charles. he’s my teammate, one of my beat friends.“ desperation creeps into your voice, as the weight of the moment finally dawns on you, “he’s not you, i‘m- it’s not just in your head.“

and for a moment, lando lets himself believe everything he’s wanted for the past two years is about to come true. but he sees the look in your eyes, and he knows you’re not finished.

„do you know the kind of questions i‘ve been asked lately?“ he stays silent, waiting for you to continue, “it’s like I’m constantly fighting to prove my worth, and it‘s draining me.“ you inhale shakily, trying to steady your trembling hands. “every interview, every conference, half my questions are about you. and I’m used to criticism. but not this- your fangirls sending me messages, handing me letters, telling me to kill myself, to stay away from you.“ tears stream down your face, and your voice cracks as you go on.

“i‘m the only woman on the grid, lando. i have to constantly try to be better than everyone else just to be seen. and now- everything I’ve worked for is overshadowed by this. like i’m an extension of you, when nothings even happened yet.“

The weight of your words presses down on him, and he realises how much this has affected you too.

“i didn’t know they were saying those things to you, im so sorry. i wish i could protect you from all of it,“ he says, stepping closer to cup your face in his hands. you let him, feeling the warmth of his palms grounding you.

„but please don’t shut me out, please. i can’t lose you, not when i never really had you.“ there’s tears running down his face too now, “i just want to love you.“ you look up into his eyes, and let the gravity of his words sink in.

he loves you.

“lando, please don‘t say that.“ you whisper, your heart aching at the sincerity in his gaze.

“why not?“ he pleads, not paying any mind to how desperate he sounds.

„i can’t risk everything ive worked for my whole life,“ your hands go to hold onto his wrists.

“i can’t be what you want me to be, not right now.“ you step back, his hands falling from your face. there’s an „im sorry“ before you go back inside, he doesn’t really hear it.

.

you’re long gone, already in your room. he’s still on the balcony, leaning against the wall, in the same space you’ve left him. after a while, oscar comes to get him, asking no questions as he drives him back to the hotel.

he’s awake in bed once again, and now, on the other side of the hotel, so are you.

when you close your eyes, there’s only one thing on your mind.

„i just want to love you.“

[yoyowrites]

Au where shen jiu is an assassin/murderer and binghe grew up in hua hua palace.

After Binghe's adoptive mother died, the old palace master found him and took him in. At first, he's treated very well. Binghe is excited to have family, to be safe, to be free. Then, he notices he's actually very restricted. Everywhere he goes there's someone. When he was younger, he considered it wonderful to have friends and family but he soon found out they weren't friends. They were spies. His every move was being monitored. His real situation really hit him when he tried to leave.

He wasn't trying to leave for ever. It'd been about eight months since he'd been brought to huan hua palace and he's been missing her. He wanted to visit her grave, tell her how he'd been, and see if any of her things were still in tact. Yet, he barely made it pass the gates when other disciples stopped him. They dragged him to his room and he wasn't allowed to leave for days. When the old palace master returned, binghe tried to explain what happened thinking he'd be on Binghe's side. He was met with lies.

The old palace master explained that it was for his own good. How binghe just needed to stay there and listen. How he should never leave.

Binghe had made one 'friend' after that. A slightly older girl who seemed to take him under her wing. He shared his thoughts and worries with her. One day he mentions how he wants to try leaving. he just wants to be outside, how he missed his home.

The next day, he was imprisoned in his room again. There were guards in front of it that refused to speak to him. When the old palace master visited him, binghe knew what happened.

After that, binghe noticed how he was truly alone. No one ever actually talked to him. They didn't share anything about themselves. They were only collecting information on him.

He became closed off. He still played the part of kind, sweet, naive disciple but he never truly opened up again.

Years later, when binghe is a few months shy of fifteen, he hears rumours about this thief and murderer that has been targeting cultivators. Said murderer had been rumoured to be spotted near huan hua palace. Everyone was whispering how he'd attack them next. Then, binghe made a plan. He needed out.

So binghe plans to stage the murder of the old palace master. However, the real thief shows up and sees binghe. While binghe is strong, he's still young. The murdered captures binghe but doesn't kill him. Instead, he lets him escape. Binghe wasn't sure what to do but follow the murderer (who's name he learns is shen jiu).

Shen jiu wasn't killing to kill. He just needed cash and cultivators tended to hoard so he helped himself. Sometimes cultivators were in the way of his treasure and he needed to not leave evidence. He never leaves evidence.

So what was this ... tall child doing. Shen jiu isn't sure why he didn't kill him, much less kept him around but now he's keeping binghe with him. Mostly because he isn't sure what to do with him Or it was like that until they reached the next town over.

Shen jiu starts to notice that binghe is the luckiest unlucky person he knows. The only room available in the in they can stay at is near a forest that is infested with demons but their room is the only one that doesn't get attacked. Shen jiu chucks it up to luck

then, they're forced to travel through that same forest. shen jiu allows lou binghe to cling to him and sees that nothing serious tries to attack them.

shen jiu decides to keep binghe around. they grow pretty close. he even teaches lbh easy pick pocketing and disarming techniques, though he refuses to allow lbh to kill anyone again. if asked, shen jiu would deny it but a soft spot was rapidly growing.

they had been companions for around a year when lbh's demonic heritage was revealed. for one reason or another, shen jiu decides to push him in to the abyss. it hits him harder than he expected but its for the best. lbh is a demon, demons should be with their own kind. the reason lbh is so odd is probably from being around humans his whole life. shen jiu decides he must move on. life doesn't stop.

lou binghe spends his years in the abyss planning how he would confront sj. he would also prove himself to still be useful because that must be why he was abandoned. even if sj doesn't want to, he'd never be rid of lbh again. years later, he emerged and started searching for his dear shen jiu

TLDR:

Binghe murders old palace master and is on the run, sj helps hide him. Sj keeping binghe around like a rabbits foot until he finds out lbh is a demon. He throws binghe into the abyss and binghe returns for him.

[elisedonut]

Every single time Penelope Clearwater is mentioned or is in a scene in Harry Potter

because there are not very many so it's easy to do

i will put under a read more so it doesn't take over the tag though

“The Slytherins always come up to breakfast from over there,” said Ron, nodding at the entrance to the dungeons. The words had barely left his mouth when a girl with long, curly hair emerged from the entrance.

“Excuse me,” said Ron, hurrying up to her. “We’ve forgotten the way to our common room.”

“I beg your pardon?” said the girl stiffly. “Our common room? I’m a Ravenclaw.”

She walked away, looking suspiciously back at them.

Madam Pomfrey was bending over a sixth-year girl with long, curly hair. Harry recognized her as the Ravenclaw they’d accidentally asked for directions to the Slytherin common room. And on the bed next to her was — “HermioneY’ Ron groaned.

“That’s two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw, and one Hufflepuff,” said the Weasley twins’ friend Lee Jordan, counting on his fingers. “Haven’t any of the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn’t it obvious all this stuff’s coming from Slytherin? The Heir of Slytherin, the monster of Slytherin — why don’t they just chuck all the Slytherins out?” he roared, to nods and scattered applause.

Percy Weasley was sitting in a chair behind Lee, but for once he didn’t seem keen to make his views heard. He was looking pale and stunned.

“Percy’s in shock,” George told Harry quietly. “That Ravenclaw girl — Penelope Clearwater — she’s a prefect. I don’t think he thought the monster would dare attack a prefect.”

“The basilisk kills people by looking at them. But no one’s died — because no one looked it straight in the eye. Colin saw it through his camera. The basilisk burned up all the film inside it, but Colin just got Petrified. Justin ... Justin must’ve seen the basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick! Nick got the full blast of it, but he couldn’t die again ... and Hermione and that Ravenclaw prefect were found with a mirror next to them. Hermione had just realized the monster was a basilisk. I bet you anything she warned the first person she met to look around corners with a mirror first! And that girl pulled out her mirror — and — ”

“Ginny — what did you see Percy doing, that he didn’t want you to tell anyone?”

“Oh, that,” said Ginny, giggling. “Well — Percy’s got a girlfriend.”

Fred dropped a stack of books on George’s head. “What?”

“It’s that Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater,” said Ginny. “That’s who he was writing to all last summer. He’s been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. He was so upset when she was — you know — attacked. You won’t tease him, will you?” she added anxiously.

“The sooner we get on the train, the better,” he said. “At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he’s accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know,” Ron grimaced, “his girlfriend. She’s hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy. ...”

“Ah, there’s Penelope!” said Percy, smoothing his hair and going pink again. Ginny caught Harry’s eye, and they both turned away to hide their laughter as Percy strode over to a girl with long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she couldn’t miss his shiny badge.

“Put it here, Harry,” he said, laying the broom in the middle of the table and carefully turning it so that its name faced upward. People from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were soon coming over to look. Cedric Diggory came over to congratulate Harry on having acquired such a superb replacement for his Nimbus, and Percy’s Ravenclaw girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, asked if she could actually hold the Firebolt.

“Now, now, Penny, no sabotage!” said Percy heartily as she examined the Firebolt closely “Penelope and I have got a bet on,” he told the team. “Ten Galleons on the outcome of the match!”

Penelope put the Firebolt down again, thanked Harry, and went back to her table.

“Harry — make sure you win,” said Percy, in an urgent whisper. “I haven’t got ten Galleons. Yes, I’m coming, Penny!” And he bustled off to join her in a piece of toast.

“Well done, Harry!” said Percy, looking delighted. “Ten Galleons to me! Must find Penelope, excuse me — ”

Percy Weasley, meanwhile, had much to say on the subject of Sirius’s escape.

“If I manage to get into the Ministry, I’ll have a lot of proposals to make about Magical Law Enforcement!” he told the only person who would listen — his girlfriend, Penelope.

“Oh, I’m not going to bite just yet. We’ll see if she’s a bit quicker at remembering her name than Barny. Who are you, girly?”

“Penelope Clearwater,” said Hermione. She sounded terrified, but convincing.

[nyc-pizza-rat]

okay thinking about her

the tree bark at his back scratches him as he shifts. there are bruises on his skin that sting. he feels the slide of blood at his temple, unsettling and unfamiliar, even after all these years. castiel looks down at his hands, a little calloused, now, and wrinkling, and tries to center himself. there is dirt on his palms, under his fingernails. a small cut on his index finger that is loud and sharp. he curls his fists and tries to reach within himself. the well of his grace has been running low for a while, now, and castiel hasn't been sure of...well, anything.

it's harder to find his dimming grace within, here in purgatory. harder still to coax it to the surface. sweat beads at his brow but castiel keeps his fingers clenched, mumbles to himself in enochian — words to songs of praise and comfort and strength that mean so little now, and yet come to him easy.

there is a thin stream of silver light, and castiel heaves a breath, sinks further into the hollow of the tree. he unclenches his fist, and there are red half-moons carved into his palm. the cut is gone, but there is a scar, still, and castiel cannot stop looking at it. it looks like a thin tear in fabric, like the cracks in between the worlds that let them through. it looks like the beginning of the end.

he rubs his thumb over the scar, feels the slight raise of his skin. his thoughts begin to spin, and all he can focus on is the heat building at the back of his neck, the rushing of blood in his ears. suddenly, then, a ripple within. a breeze by his ear that pull at his core. that compels him to quiet, to listen.

someone, somewhere, is invoking him in prayer.

his grace surges now, easy as it hasn't been in a while, and while it doesn't heal him still, castiel feels more angel than he has in a long time.

Cas, I hope you can hear me... that wherever you are, it's not too late.

castiel sighs, something inside him relaxing. he hadn't even noticed the way his muscles had been pulled taut. hadn't noticed the tendrils of fear creeping into his heart. dean's alive. dean's alive.

I should've stopped you.

castiel swallows. digs his fingers into his thighs. his grace spins out, trying to find the source of the prayer. It's harder than it is on earth, and harder than it should be for an angel of his caliber, but castiel keeps trying.

You're my best friend, but I just let you go. 'Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong.

castiel wishes dean would stop saying these things. he bites his cheek, listening, following dean's voice. he's always following dean's voice, even when he doesn't want to.

I – Ohh. I don't know why I get so angry. I just know – I know that it's – i-it's just always been there. And when things go bad, it just – it comes out. And I can't -- I can't stop it. No matter how –

dean breaks, and castiel pauses, stares at the blinking doorway that will lead them back onto earth. back into a battle that they are bound to lose. he thinks about jack, lost forever. about chuck, who cannot be beaten. about the pointlessness of what they are doing, the desperation with which he has been clinging to hope.

— how bad I want to, I just can't stop it.

he wishes he could see dean. there is something solid pressing against the back of his throat, like he has swallowed a rock, like it is blocking the air. his eyes sting. he wishes dean would just — just talk to him.

And — And I — I forgive you. Of course I forgive you.

castiel shakes his head. his wings are more bone than anything else, skeletons he lugs around because he cannot bear to sever them from his trueform. now they twitch, twined with his grace as they are. castiel lets them curl inwards, pretends he can feel them whole, their warmth, the comfort of it.

I'm sorry it took me so long – I'm sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I'm – I'm so sorry.

castiel forgives him, despite everything. thinks he'd forgiven him long before this, before dean ever thought to ask. he wonders if dean knows that castiel doesn't know how to loathe him, even if he wanted to.

longing surges out to him, the pull of the prayer strengthened by cords of need, of want.

dean thinks he's dead, and he's desperate for him to not be. castiel knows what dean can be like, when he loses those he considers kin, when he's even faced with the prospect of losing them.

Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me.

longing can feel a lot like love.

angels were never meant to decipher the nuances of human emotion, and despite all the time he's spent on earth, even castiel is not all that good at it. so when prayer is made with longing, it can feel a lot like love.

and maybe it is. castiel doesn't know.

it's almost unsettling, the way warmth bleeds into his trueform, as dean finishes praying, as he makes his way closer. castiel tries to reign in his weak grace, pulsing away under his skin. tries to not let himself get carried away.

he looks up at the grey sky, the sunless world he is trapped in. he thinks about the empty. he thinks about his son.

maybe it isn't. human love is so complicated, after all.

somewhere to his right, footsteps. castiel breathes, wills his lungs to loosen, his heart to slow. he pulls the leviathan blossom out of his coat pocket. all that fighting and the fidgeting has smushed it a little. he rubs a thumb over one of its strange petals, and puts it back in his coat.

dean is getting closer. castiel can hear him breathing now. can hear the way his heart races.

he gathers himself and pushes out of the hollow of the tree. straightens a little.

"dean," he calls. he sounds tired, even to his own ears. human. god. "you made it."

[evelynprinceauthor]

Kink rating - dentist, maybe taking a little baby to the dentist and then subsequent rewards if behaves?

Or just me? 😅

I didn't see this ask!! I'm so sorry it's been neglected for so long!

Uh, this one got away from me...

All characters in this piece of fiction are role-playing adults.

*

The last time I was at the dentist, I hadn't slept very well the night before (probably because I knew I had to wake up early to go to the dentist...) and my head was fuzzy. I couldn't focus on anything and I kept drifting into daydreams.

And lying there, eyes closed, latex-covered fingers filling my mouth and squeaking against my teeth, I kept thinking about how violating the whole experience felt and, therefore, how easy to eroticize.

Maybe it takes place in the same 'verse as The Stroller, where adults being rehabilitated are forced into littlehood. A dentist appointment feels like it would be an important part of caretaking that would never be neglected by caretakers -- those lucky lucky upstanding citizens chosen to rehabilitate dangerous, community-destroying criminals like shoplifters.

Daddy delays Belle's dentist appointment for longer than he should. She throws so many tantrums when she first arrives and he doesn't want to have to sedate her at the dentist. He wants her to experience every second of it so it fully sinks in that Daddy is going to take care of every single part of her. He also wants to make sure that she doesn't bite the dentist.

So when he finally brings her to the dental clinic, he isn't surprised when the receptionist greets them with, "Little Belle! Finally!" She stands up to peer at Belle over her desk. "Someone doesn't look very happy about her dentist visit!"

Belle's face is red and tear-stained. Daddy has her paci strapped into her mouth to stop her from spitting it out. "She didn't sleep very well," he explains. "She was up with an upset tummy. Her new formula disagrees with her." He rubs a hand over his face, feeling stubble under his palm. It was a fight to get her ready this morning, not quite as bad as it was in the early days but close, and he didn't have time to shave. His jaw aches where she caught him with a kick when he was trying to wrestle her into her adult-sized footed onesie.

The receptionist smiles sympathetically at him. "Restless nights with a new little," she says. "I'll be honest with you, I don't miss it." She taps at her keyboard. "I'll let Doctor Henry know that you're here."

He takes a seat in the waiting room, deciding to keep Belle in her stroller rather than risk her throwing a fit when he takes her out. He wonders if she would have been better behaved today if he put her in her special stroller, the one that stimulates her kitty with every push. He didn't want her worked up and fussy; it's just a short ten-minute walk from his house to the dental clinic, and that usually isn't enough time for her to have a nice little come. His baby girl usually needs at least twenty-five minutes of steady thrusting from the dildo.

(Sometimes, he wonders what her sex life was like back when she was allowed to be an adult. Did she come easily? How much foreplay did she need? Could she come from penetration alone? But he always cuts these musings off quickly. It doesn't matter. That was her old life and now she's here, no longer able to choose sexual partners like an adult would, all her pleasure entirely at Daddy's whim.)

It isn't long before they're called into the dentist's office. Daddy chucks Belle under the chin as he stands up. "They're so excited to meet you, sweetie!" he says. She glares at him, but it's hard to take her too seriously when the shield of her pacifier is bobbing from how hard she's sucking on her dummy.

He wheels her down the hall, which is decorated with clumsy drawings done in crayon. He hopes they're from littles and not actual children. He'll put Belle in her mittens and make her draw a thank you picture for the nice doctor after her check-up. Maybe, if she does a very good job, they'll put it on display. On their way in, they pass a man and his little boy. The little is taller than his daddy, but there's no doubt who's in charge; the little is dressed in sunshine-yellow overalls, with the tell-tale bulge of a diaper around his crotch and bottom, and he's sucking on his thumb, tears in his eyes.

The man gives Daddy a smile. "Good luck," he says. "Hopefully you'll deal with a bit less fussing than I did." He pats his little's bottom. "We're prone to dramatics."

"So's Belle," Daddy replies. "We'll see how it goes."

(She really is the most dramatic little thing. In the early days, if he didn't have her gagged with a pacifier, she'd scream that she hated him, that he was evil, that she wanted to go home. As though she hadn't signed up for this. As though she hadn't agreed that she needed someone to take care of her and save her from herself.)

Doctor Henry is a tall, heavyset man with black-rimmed glasses and a big smile. He immediately bends over Belle's stroller and coos at her. "Is this our brave little patient!" he says. "Sweetie, I'm Doctor Henry. I'm going to look at your toothies and if you're very very good, you might get a lollipop at the end!" He shakes Daddy's hand. "Anything I should be aware of?" he asks.

They talk for a few minutes over Belle's head. She eats solid food, but only very soft textures. Applesauce and mashed yams with no spices and creamy porridge with a little splash of milk when she's been a good girl. He supplements her diet with bottles of formula three times a day. No, he hasn't noticed any pain when he brushes her teeth, just regular babyish fussing. No, at this point, he doesn't have any plans to remove her teeth, but he will keep the option in mind.

"Perfect," Henry says. "I think it's time to get the little one out of her stroller and into our exciting big kid chair!"

It's just a regular dentist chair, but it's upholstered in plastic fabric patterned with cartoon ponies, chickens, and piggies. There are restraints dangling from it, but Daddy hopes they won't have to use them. He helps Belle out of her stroller, holding her upright because the poor nervous baby's legs are all wobbly beneath her, while Doctor Henry explains, "You won't be able to sit in Dada's lap, but don't worry, honey, he'll be right next to you to hold your hand."

Daddy likes Henry's manner. He explains everything to Belle before doing it. He shows her the overhead light and gives her a pair of sunglasses so she doesn't hurt her eyes. He points out the restraints and promises that they're only for very naughty little ones. He explains that some of his tools might look a bit scary, but he promises that Daddy will be right here to protect her. He shows her the paper bib, patterned with unicorns, before the dental tech clips it on.

 "Ready?" he says. "We're going to take your paci out now so I can look in your mouth, but you'll get it back soon if you're a good girl."

Once they take her paci away, Belle clamps her mouth shut and won't open it. Daddy sighs. "Belly-Button," he says. She wrinkles her nose; she hates her new nickname and it's so cute when she gets grumpy. "You need to open your mouth."

Henry puts a hand high up on Belle's thigh, right at the line of her diaper. "I need to look at those teethies, honey," he says.

Belle's lower lip trembles violently as she opens her mouth, just a little bit. Her whisper is tiny, so soft that Daddy has to lean in to hear it. "Don't want you to take my teeth."

Both Daddy and Henry laugh. Daddy leans in to kiss her forehead. He loves this girl. He received a letter yesterday asking for his assessment on whether she is ready to be reintegrated into society, and he's going to write his reply today, recommending that she spends at least another six months with him to make sure she's really ready for it. They don't want her reoffending, after all. "You precious little thing," he says. "Doctor Henry isn't going to take your teeth." He removes her sunglasses, then cups her face in his hands, meeting her gaze and lowering his voice so she knows he's very serious. "That's only for very very small babies -- or for little girls who are very naughty and won't stop biting. Daddy doesn't want a tiny baby and you haven't been biting much, so you're going to keep your teethies." Unless you give me a reason to remove them. He knows that she'll understand without him having to say it.

Belle blinks her tear-filled eyes at him and nods. She leans back and opens her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. Tears leak out of the corners of her eyes. He slides the sunglasses back onto her nose and holds her hand tightly. As Doctor Henry slides his latex-covered fingers into her mouth, she clings to him and warmth fills his chest. She's learning. She's learning that she can trust him, she can rely on him.

All he wants is to keep her safe.

The threat of losing her teeth must really be preying on her mind because she's astonishingly well behaved throughout her appointment. She doesn't try to close her mouth once, even when she starts drooling around Henry's fingers. ("We don't use suction on the littles," he explained. "The noise scares them.") She flinches with each tap of the pick and the tears flow faster, but her mouth stays wide open.

"She looks good," Henry says, fingers still hooked casually in her mouth. "No sign of cavities." He presses his fingers down onto her tongue and her throat convulses. "She has an enthusiastic gag reflex, which you should work on. I can give you a set of pacifiers to start her training." He gestures at the dental tech, who holds up a clear box with six different pacis in it. Each one has a bulb that's thicker and longer than the one before; the first is just a little fatter than her usual paci, and the last will stretch her lips wide and reach all the way to the back of her throat, maybe even going down it a few centimetres.

"It's important to be able to access all parts of our littles," Henry says. "For health care, for maintenance, simply for discipline and control." He massages Belle's tongue, saliva spilling around his fingers. "This is simply another part of it."

He presses his fingers further back in Belle's mouth. She tenses, and he keeps moving them. Further and further until --

Belle gags, retching, and Henry pulls his fingers out, nodding. He wipes them on her bib. "It needs work," he says. He pats her cheek with the hand that was just at her mouth, leaving shiny smears of spit behind on her skin. "You're lucky to have such a dedicated Daddy," he tells her. "You --" He pauses. A hissing sound has filled the room. Belle sobs, only now closing her mouth. Henry chuckles. "Sounds like you have a little Wetsy-Betsy on your hands," he says.

"I'm just glad she didn't mess herself," Daddy says. "I started her on a new formula and I spent all of last night wiping a messy bottom. She's lucky she didn't get a rash."

"It wouldn't be the first time a little one messed in our chair," Henry says. He cups Belle's blushing face and rubs his thumb over her cheek. "Do you put, uh, donations into her bottles?"

Daddy frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Your semen," Henry says. Belle makes a noise -- shock or complaint, Daddy can't quite tell -- and Henry pushes a thumb into her mouth to hush her. "It will help. Both with the tummy troubles and with helping her bond to you. She already relies on you for comfort, but it will strengthen that. She'll associate your taste, your smell, all of it with comfort and a full tummy." He pulls his thumb from her mouth with a slick pop. "She was such a little angel," he says. "Can she have a lollipop?"

"How much time do you have before your next appointment?" Daddy says. "You were so good with her. If you want, she can say a proper thank you to, uh, your lollipop." He twirls one of Belle's braids around his finger. "After all, we need to start working on that gag reflex, don't we?"

"We do," Henry says. He stands up, one hand going to the front of his pants. "Okay, sweetheart," he says. "Mouth open again. Just a little more of your exam left to go. It's very very important that you keep your mouth nice and wide for Doctor..."

*

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[buckley-diaztruther]

tiny little buddle drabble that maybe will go into something bigger idk:

There had been a moment, right after Tommy had left following that first kiss, where Buck found himself sitting at his kitchen table and looking back. Looking over all of his past friendships (so few as they were) and wondering 'oh, was I into him?'. Or recalling flashes of something when looking at another man and dismissing it before he could look too closely. He thinks about that one threesome he had in college, where he'd maybe been a little too involved with the guy than was strictly heterosexual.

Buck just sits and he analyzes it all. Did he have a crush on Chimney when he first joined the team? Did he follow Connor to LA in a friend way or was it because he can't say no to a face that pretty? Was he actually flirting with TK that one time?

All of these little past moments begin to arrange themselves into something new, or maybe Buck is just really seeing them for the first time and recognizing the pattern, the giant queer constellation that they all make when lined up all together. And Buck feels kind of really stupid for not seeing it sooner.

He looks at everything, recontextualizes it all, and very blatantly ignores the giant gaps somewhere in the middle that he refuses to consider at all.

He doesn't think about Eddie. There was almost a moment, looking back at Eddie's first day and the HotAngryJealousyFear that had coursed through him, and started to ask himself if maybe there was a flash of arousal somewhere in there as well. But then, just as quickly as the question had come, Buck shuts it back down.

It's a forbidden area that he pretends he isn't even ignoring, pretends it's not even there to avoid. Because, whatever those first few hours might have been don't matter in the face of everything else they've spent the last six years building.

What Buck has with Eddie is so much more than anything that could be... polluted by something as harmful and pathetic as misplaced lust. That sort of feeling has ruined so much for Buck up until now, and even comparing that to his bond with Eddie feels wrong and dangerous. Feels to much like putting a lit match to the edge of a beautiful tapestry and asking it not to burn.

Instead, it gets packed away and everything that is his maybe insane but incredibly platonic love for Eddie gets set up on a high shelf that nothing and no one can touch.

And then he reminds himself that none if it matters anyways, because Tommy just kissed him and maybe that could be something. Maybe this is what Buck has been missing this whole time. It's new and it's scary, but isn't that how you can tell that it's important?

When the date gets ruined and Buck is inevitably left on the side of the road, he reconsiders. Okay, maybe Tommy isn't what's been missing. But it's a step in the right direction. If only he could feel good about it, if only lying to Eddie didn't feel like admitting something even bigger.

Thank god for Eddie pushing Buck to try again with Tommy, because it really helps put those uncertain feelings to bed.

Fast forward seven months and some change, and suddenly the uncertainty is back. Tommy is gone, then Eddie is gone, and then Tommy is back and chucking dynamite at Buck's carefully constructed 'Eddie Shelf' as if Buck wasn't already fucking haunted by it.

By the time Eddie gets back to LA, Buck has already spent weeks sifting through the rubble. Trying so hard to put it all back together without actually looking at any of the pieces. In walks Eddie, and then Buck looks down at the mess around him to see that the pieces are all shards of this giant broken mirror reflecting back at him everything he never wanted to know.

"You're in love with Eddie Diaz," his reflection says to him, like it's no big deal. "You're in love with Eddie Diaz and it's the easiest thing you've ever done. So easy that you didn't even realize you were doing it even though your eyes were wide open and you were stepping into it with such deliberate intent. You're in love with Eddie Diaz and it's the only thing you've ever done that's worth something and he will never love you back the same way but you will keep loving him with every breath, every smile, every step that takes you closer and closer to ruin and it will be so worth it to drop yourself into oblivion because all of it is for him. You are in love with Eddie Diaz and it hurts but you are in love with the hurt just as well because it is the greatest thing you will ever do. To bleed for him, to die for him, to live for him is the greatest privilege and you love him you love him you love him."

And Buck looks at Eddie, so vibrant and beautiful and joyful because he's home, he's with Chris, and it's everything he'd never dared to hope for over the last few months. But it's everything. And Buck is standing in the rubble, broken glass cutting into flesh and tearing him asunder but its nothing compared to the blinding, vaporizing power of Eddie's smile and it's everything.

Buck is bleeding out, and it is the most alive he's ever felt.

"Welcome home," Buck says, and it sounds like he's screaming 'I love you!'.

"Glad to be home," Eddie says, and it sounds like he's whispering 'I love you,' if only Buck could stop screaming long enough to hear it.

'I love you,' they don't say, as loud as they've ever been.

[senjuroprotectionsquad]

how do you think akaza feel if reader was preggo with their child?

AKAZA WITH A PREGNANT S/O

omg he'd be an absolute malewife-

first and foremost

He wants to TRAIN the child (starts talking about it immediately after you announce you pregnant)

Not even questioning how a human and demon had a baby just STRAIGHT to training (your not surprised though. it's akaza.)

Although a demon he is still part man and that part wants him to have a mini version of himself, wants the child to be strong like him (maybe eventually replace that bastard Douma-)

He's a bit inexperienced when it comes to being around pregnant women (He avoids women as a whole due to not wanting to bring them harm) so forgive him if he doesn't treat you like glass right away

As soon as you start showing belly though?

it's OVER

Won't let you go outside at night, at your side returning with supplies every dawn. Keeps you locked away because your his, and he'll be damned if someone takes that away from him.

This man is TOUCHY. Belly, thighs, hips, breast, butt. NOWHERE is safe. A squish here and a squeeze there is enough to tell you that he loves you, even if he's not very vocal about it.

Once you get into the later months of your pregnancy and start to really show, he won't do anything sexual with you other than go down on you, much to your dismay.

it's just... just too easy to accidentally hurt you, ya know?

He's always watching you, staring. It might seem a little intimidating but behind that blank expression are the vivid images of you guys making more babies. The mushy stuff too, holding hands, kissing the baby's forehead goodnight, watching you fold laundry or other mundane housework all while the mini akaza runs all around causing havoc. (just like him, he thinks)

He'll give you massages and cook for you, becoming more doting and wonderful with each and every passing month.

Won't let any of the other upper moons know about it (other than Kokushibo because he somehow already knows)

Kokushibo showed up one day out of the blue while Akaza was gone on a hunt and while it was scary he was only interested i talking with you about the pregnancy. Intrigued.

The look on Akaza's face when he came back to see the two of you talking over tea was enough to tell you how he felt about that.

This man is possessive as it is, but when your pregnant? Oh boy.

He doesn't even want you talking with humans let alone demons, i mean what if the slayers found you? they'd surely take your head for carrying the baby of a demon. The thought alone has him taking his anger out on the nearest tree.

WILL smash a tree or person to absolute bits and then touch you with the most gentle, reaffirming hands ever known.

He loves to kiss you everywhere but his favorite place would be your knuckles, raising your hands to his fangs only to place the sweetest kiss on the back of them.

EYE CONTACTTTTT

While he kisses you, while he holds your hand away from the stove so you don't burn yourself, while he helps you get in and out of the bath, while he turns you into a cream puff-

Asks how you're doing, if you've eaten, if you've been feeling sick. Your in pain? He will threaten the gods to make you feel better.

Stole a book from a nearby medical center on remedies to reduce cramps (acts like it's a coincidence that he found it when he searched all night)

He loves and loves and loves until he can't anymore, he's stubborn and occasionally shy due to his utmost respect for you, but once the baby is born he's back to his teasing self, promising to put another baby in you as soon your back to health.

He will also absolutely chuck the baby 20 ft up in the air while playing "catchies" much to your disapproval 💀

He catches him everytime though. As if the great Akaza could let his little champion get hurt. (at least that's what he says)

WHEW that was a doozy, sorry if i went a little off the rails, I love husbandy Akaza so muchhhh

I hope you enjoyed!

[tangledbea]

What do you think a day with everyone going apple picking together would be like? Or maybe going pumpkin picking?

Eugene spends the morning affectionately watching Rapunzel flit around in excitement. This was her idea, after all, and as usual, everyone else agreed to come along, whether they really wanted to do it or not. Him, though? He loves apples. They were a staple when he was younger -- cheap enough that it was pretty easy for the orphanage to get fresh ones, available on the road once he was old enough to be on his own and was less-than-wealthy, and small enough to be stolen when it was his only option. Even in the palace, they've remained one of his favorite convenient snacks. So despite the fact that he's not raring to go, he knows he's going to enjoy it. An afternoon with an excited Rapunzel is always a good time.

Rapunzel's never done this before! She has so much appreciation for food cultivation, and she loves how taste and smell. So many good foods and drinks use apples, and the peels have a distinctive fresh scent that you lose with the juice. She's looking forward to eating an apple picked fresh off the tree, and seeing all the colors they come in. She's bringing her journal, so she can capture exactly what ripe, growing apples look like. She's also looking forward to the crisp air and the sounds of leaves crunching underfoot!

Lance gets the girls up a little early, but not too early, because he doesn't like getting up early, either. He fills them up with a hearty breakfast (with no apples, since they're going to be bringing home a ton) before they head up to the palace to meet Rapunzel and Eugene. The girls are wondering how working for the afternoon can be considered a fun activity, but Lance assures them that Rapunzel can make anything fun, and they agree.

The group heads out to Old Corona and Varian's farm. This is just another Tuesday for him. Well... not really, but it is harvesting season, so he spends more time on the farm in this season than most of the rest of the year. He gets the baskets and carts ready to head out to the orchard while he waits for everyone else to arrive.

Cassandra gets there first, enjoying the quiet before the whole group gets there. She doesn't plan to keep most of what she picks -- there's hungrier people out there than her, and she doesn't bake if she can help it. This is to do an activity with friends.

Once everyone arrives and they head out, Rapunzel starts suggesting specific activities. Maybe a contest to see who can pick the most apples through the course of the day? Bobbing for apples after? She has a brand new recipe she wants to try out on everyone, and Lance says only if he gets to help her with it. The day is spent in fun and laughter. At one point, Kiera starts chucking apples at people, and there's a brief period of war before Cassandra inevitably comes out on top, to the awe of the girls.

When the baskets are full, they head back into town, and everyone gets to take home a bag of apples. The rest are sorted through and either set aside to sell or donate. Varian makes cider from an earlier pressing, and Rapunzel and Lance try out her new recipe for apple caramel tartlets.

Thanks for the ask!

[asleepyyeti]

unnervingly domestic

simon cares about his stuff, sure, but he doesn't have the disposition to care too much about mending his civvie clothes. helpful, then, that you've such an interest in mending and repair... (three little peeks at mending things throughout your relationship)

platonic!simon 'ghost' riley + reader

[masterlist]

“Hey, Simon?”

He meets your question with a grunt.

“Why’s your jacket in the bin?”

“Ripped the arm,” he says, gesturing vaguely at his bicep.

“Oh, that’s a shame! I thought it was your favourite?”

Simon shrugs.

“I could try and repair it?”

Thankfully, it was still at the top of the bin, so you manage to pull it out without your hands getting mucky. You inspect the rip, and it’s a nasty one–long, all frayed edges–but ever since you’d moved in, you’d seen how he treasured it. It would be a shame for him to have to throw it out. “It won’t be as good as new, but I could do a little visible mending?”

“Do what you like,” he says, taking himself and his mug and retreating into his room. You’re still getting used to simon, but you’re learning not to take his blunt manner of speech as necessarily dismissive. He really does mean that it’s up to you.

You’d wager that he might even be interested in the outcome.

-

When he returns from base one night, Simon finds his jacket folded up neatly on his spot on the sofa. He inspects the hole on the forearm, pokes at your repair. You’d sewn a patch of grey camo fabric into the hole and finished up the frayed edges with some machine stitching. When he fusses at it, he finds it sturdy–you’d done a good job. The mending stands out a little, sure, but when he slides his jacket on and looks down at it, he finds he likes it.

“Simon…” you groan. You’re hanging off the side of the sofa, staring intently at him as he moves around the kitchen.

“What did I do now,” he asks, deadpan, though his attention doesn’t shift from the fruit basket.

“Nothing, it’s just–your trousers…”

He looks down, scrutinises the denim, tries to see what’s bothering you.

“‘s a matter with ‘em?”

You sigh. “The holes…” You point at the seam on the outside of his leg, where the stitching had come apart slightly. “And your knees are almost worn through..”

“‘adn’t noticed.” 

“If you like ‘em enough, it might be worth getting ahead on repairs. Would you want ‘em reinforced?”

“You offerin’?”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Yes, Simon. I can strengthen the knees a bit, should be almost invisible, and the holes look easy enough to fix, too.”

He hesitates a little, rolling an apple around in one hand and then chucking it to the other. “You don’t mind?”

“Wouldn’t offer if I did. I’m running out of mending projects, and I’ve been looking for a bit of a challenge–denim’s not a material I work with that often. Not that I can’t!” you assure him, “it’s just so hard wearing I don’t often need to, y’know?”

He nods, looking off into the middle distance. “I’ll wash ‘em and–where should I leave ‘em for ya?”

“Yes! Uh, just—anywhere on the kitchen table will be fine.” You look him up and down again, and smile, slow and knowing. “But don’t let me keep you, say hi to... John?”

“Kyle,” he corrects.

“I’ll guess right one of these days…”

“Sure you will.” He pats you consolingly on the head, and bites into his apple.

“‘spose these are a bit far gone for repairs,” Simon asks, holding a pair of nearly destroyed slippers out to you.

“What the fuck happened to these?!”

“Luna got ‘em,” he says with a sigh. “Thought we were playing tug-o-war when I tried to get ‘em back.”

“Well… might not even be all the holes that make this one a challenge, more the shape and construction and… drool.”

“They’re grim,” he agrees.

“Proper grim, but… put ‘em in the washing machine, I’ll see what I can do.”

-

Simon’s surprised when spies the box in his spot at the table–he really hadn’t expected you to even attempt to try and fix the slippers he’d left you with before deployment. He’d only even brought them to you because you were always looking for a challenge, and anyway, it didn’t seem that he could throw anything away without you realising. He opens it and has to abort his chuckle before it wakes you.

The ones he’d left you must have been too far gone, because instead, the box is full of grey fluff–and when he picks up a handful of it, he finds a garishly large monster foot, claws and all. A pair of utterly impractical slippers, and a little note scribbled on the inside of the shoebox--

“Not for Luna consumption!!”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Charles III

Day #18 - "Freak" | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Goodie (Freak) | Pairing: None | Tags: Band Practice, Goodie & Gareth, The Birth of a Nickname, He's Goodie Goodwin the First

Charles reaches into the backseat of his car, and pulls out his bass case, heading up towards the open garage. The van isn't hogging up all the parking out front, so that means Eddie isn't here yet, but Eddie's never been on time a day in his goddamn life, so that's to be expected.

But Jeff's running late too, so it must be time for his braces to be tightened, which explains his unusual absence. Because otherwise, Jeff runs like clockwork.

So, that leaves him alone with Gareth, which, historically, doesn't always go smoothly. 

Charles puts down his guitar case, starting to take off his leather jacket.

"Hey, Goodie," Gareth says, not really looking up from his drums, fiddling, tuning the head, and Charles freezes, only one sleeve of his jacket pulled off his arm. 

"What'd you call me?" Charles asks, and Gareth looks up. 

"What?" Gareth asks. 

"What'd you just call me?" he asks again, and he can see Gareth wilting. He's the youngest, and easily picked on. Charles knows part of that is his fault. He found a raw nerve, or three, and just kept stripping them for fun.

Gareth's an easy mark, and they've all taken advantage of that, liberally.

"Sorry," Gareth says. "I don't know, it just, like, came out."

"No, that's okay." 

Then he adds, softer, "I think I liked it."

And yeah. He likes it. Goodie. 

Charles Goodwin is his father, and his grandpa. He's never felt like he's a Charlie or a Chuck. There was the week he tried Chaz on for size. But that was a disaster. 

So, Charles it was. Just for lack of another viable option. He had long ago accepted that he didn't have a name of his own, just one borrowed from his dad. Eddie's been calling him Goodwin, which was fine. He'll take that. It was the best thing he'd heard so far.

That's probably the slip that Gareth made. Goodwin to Goodie. 

And that? That could work.

"Yeah? You do?" Gareth asks, looking unsure.

Goodie nods, and Gareth grins, looking back at him. 

Eddie rushes in, and acts like he's been waiting on them, instead of the reality. Asshole.

"Okay, what are we waiting on?" Eddie asks, slinging his guitar over his shoulder 

"Jeff?" Gareth suggests and Eddie looks around, like he just noticed Jeff wasn't among them.

"Well, where the hell is he?"

"Orthodontist. You know that," Goodie says. Because they all know that. It's scheduled like a train. 

"Oh. Right," Eddie says. 

"I have an idea we can work on while we wait," Gareth says, and this should be good. 

"This isn't working," Gareth admits. 

"No shit," Goodie agrees. 

"Maybe I'll do this," Gareth says, and then he demonstrates a new pattern on his drums, "and then maybe you could do this," Gareth says, making the sound of a bass line with his mouth. Poorly. 

But Goodie gets the gist of what he means, and it's not a bad idea. It's a good pivot. 

At this point they should try anything. 

On the next go, he plays it, adding his own spin, and it sounds really good. Really, really good. 

"Holy shit, Goodie! That's it!" Gareth yells, and Goodie starts to smile, but then Eddie is interrupting. 

"Goodie? What the fuck kind of name is that?" he asks, cackling. 

Goodie wants to back down. To turn on Gareth, too. Because if Eddie thinks it sucks, maybe it does. 

Maybe he needs to go back to the drawing board. 

But, he likes it. It feels right. 

It feels like his name. And nothing ever has before.

So, no, he's not letting Eddie ruin this. 

"It's a nickname, you got a problem with that?" Goodie snaps. He's not putting up with this shit. 

"No, it's just…" Eddie trails off, looking confused by his outburst. 

"Just what?" Goodie asks, giving him a stare down. 

"Odd," Eddie answers, "unusual." 

"Didn't realize we were aiming for conformity here," Goodie grumbles. 

"We aren't. I was just surprised. That's all. Honest, I'm not trying to start shit," Eddie says, and Goodie realizes he's gonna win this round. 

That's not always the case when it comes to Eddie. 

Goodie relaxes. Eddie's not trying to make fun of him, and Goodie knows that. He just doesn't want Eddie to think less of him, either. That's always a concern, even if he's pretty sure it doesn't need to be. Eddie likes him. He wouldn't be here, in the band, in Hellfire, if Eddie didn't like him. 

Eddie suffers no fools, and he doesn't put up with much shit. He likes you, or he doesn't, and Goodie is glad that so far he's always fallen in the like column more often than not. 

"Where'd you get it?" Eddie asks. "The nickname," Eddie clarifies, and Gareth is squirming on his stool, acting like he's not sure if he should be proud or scared. 

"Gare," Goodie says, and Eddie turns and looks at Gareth and grins.

"Really?" Eddie asks.

"Don't make it a thing," Goodie says, "it's definitely not a thing. He accidently said it, I liked it, end of story."

Eddie nods, but he just keeps looking between them, as if this were a very important moment in time. 

Maybe it is.

Hell if Goodie knows.

Goodie's just glad they're moving on. He hates the spotlight being directed at him most of the time. 

And he's saved by the bell, when Jeff pulls up. 

Jeff's getting situated, quickly and efficiently, when Eddie says, "Jeff. This is Goodie now." 

Jeff turns and smiles, "Hi, Goodie. Nice to meet you." 

The bands on his braces are red now, Goodie notices. 

Goodie just rolls his eyes, like he's not tickled, but that's exactly why Jeff's Goodie's favorite, his best friend. He'll roll with anything thrown at him, no matter how weird. 

They are used to being subjected to weird. They're all friends with Eddie Munson, after all. 

"Okay, Goodie. Kick us off," Jeff says, Goodie lays the bass line. 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[bubuslutty]

feeding the needy

pairing: moon knight & fem!reader (platonic)

word count: 1.4k

summary: marc is leaving and wants to feed/take care of reader (he doesn't know how to do it like a normal person)

a/n: could be read as a standalone + dear anon, this is for you <3

Today was just like any other day. It was around 4 in the evening and Darling had to walk and take the train and underground to get home. It was also cloudy and wet, the wind blowing tiny droplets of water all over her face when she walked, she didn't know whether that could really be considered rain or not. She didn't even take an umbrella out, probably for the best because she has broken 3 umbrellas so far due to the shitty windy weather. 

She wasn't even wearing a jacket either, because it wasn't particularly cold, in fact, she was sweating under her hoodie. Both the train and underground were very loud, making her ears ring, and because she hated going on public transport with her ears naked, she wore her headphones and blared her music of choice in retaliation. She'd rather suffer from loud music rather than the screeching of the underground and the train. 

By the time she got to her apartment building, her clothes were wet and extremely warm at the same time due to her body heat, her backpack was wet and she prayed the water hadn't seeped inside where her laptop and textbook were. The lift to the flat smelled like bleach, like someone attempted to mop in it, but couldn't get that underlying smell of cigarettes, rust and piss. At least, they tried. The lights were flickering when she got to her floor and walked straight to her door with her keys in her hand. Darling froze when she noticed the plastic bag by her door, one she didn't remember putting out. 

It was a Tesco shopping bag, and when she leaned down and flipped one of the sides open, she was met with a random selection of groceries, like milk, tea, cucumbers, dish soap, sugar, syrup, and other random items. She looked around the empty dim corridor, nobody was there but her. She didn't even order anything online, she's never got her groceries delivered to her place, either. 

She should ask Marc and the boys if they knew something about it. 

Darling grabbed the bag in her other hand and knocked on Steven's door, she heard a few shuffles inside and a voice, “Come in!” She rolled her eyes and pushed the door open, she told them multiple times to lock the door like normal people do, but instead, Marc said something about easy escape, which didn't make sense because a bad guy could come in through his “easy escape” plus there was a window and they can fly??? Whatever.

Closing the door behind her, and locking it, she placed the Tesco bag and her wet backpack on the floor while trying to untie her shoes and talk at the same time, “I found a bag full of groceries in front of my door, did you see anyone– What are you doing?” She said when she realised what they were doing; packing.

Her keys were chucked on the kitchen counter without looking and she walked inside the flat, leaving her wet shoes and bags on the floor by the front door. Darling looked at the opened gym bag on the bed and the clothes all spread out on it. She also quickly noticed the tilt of the man's mouth, the hair pushed back from his forehead and the shirt he was wearing, “Marc, what the hell are you doing?” 

“Packing,” He said without looking up. “I'm leaving for Paris for a couple of days.”

Darling stared at him with her mouth open, “Why?”

“For a job, it shouldn't take long.” 

“Oh,” Darling said and he finally looked up at her, “You look like a rat who crawled up from the sewers.” 

Darling glared at him, “The weather was shit, asshole. And why didn't you tell me you were leaving sooner? Wait– When are you leaving? When are you coming back? “ She quickly asked, trying not to worry or freak out because what if he gets attacked or dies or what if someone shows up looking for him when he isn't there and they hurt her or what if-

“Hey,” Marc placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, frowning with worry. “I'm leaving tomorrow morning and coming back in 2 days.”

“Oh, okay.” Darling nodded, “You said it was for a job…Is it Moon Knight stuff or… “

“No, but maybe Moon Knight will be needed, I hope not, but can't be too sure.” He hummed, rolling t-shirts and shoving them neatly in the bag, military style.

“I've never been to Paris…” Darling mumbled, watching him work in a well-practised manner, hypnotising her in the satisfying way everything looked neat and fit exactly where he wanted it to.

“I'll get you a postcard and a stamp.” He said. 

“Really?” She smiled looking up.

“Just feed Gus. Steven left instructions in a sticky note on the tank.” He said, nodding his head towards the bubbling tank. Her eyes found the tank and swept the flat, landing at the front door and the mysterious grocery bag.

“Oh yeah, do you have any idea about the bag I found in front of my door?” She asked, pointing at it. 

“Emptied out the fridge so things don't go bad.” He explained and Darling was confused. “You're coming back in 2 days, though?”

Marc's hands froze over a pair of socks, his ears turning a little red, “Payment for feeding Gus, then.”

Darling squinted her eyes at the man, not entirely believing him. “Okay… But you are coming back in 2 days, right?”

“That's what I said.” He finally zipped his bag shut and placed it on one of the many tables around Steven's flat. “Because yesterday I had a dream a black dog bit me in the ass. Or a fox, a black one. I don't remember. It had big ears tho-” 

Marc let out a laugh in disbelief, “What does that have to do anything with me?”

“Don't you believe in omens, signs and shit?” 

Marc thought about it for a second and shrugged, “No, not really.”

Darling’s shoulders slumped, “Dude, you're literally Khonshu’s Avatar! And you literally came back from the dead… “

“So?” 

Darling scowled and crossed her arms over her chest, “If anything happens to me or to you, I'm calling Layla AND DuChamp.”

Marc glared at her, “You don't need to bother them, nothing will happen.” 

“Uhm, yeah, okay, sure,” Darling said sarcastically, every time Marc said nothing would happen, something did happen, like that one time he tried to fix her sink instead of calling a professional to do it, and they both ended up drenched from head to toe, trying to explain to the neighbours that nobody was getting murdered but a pipe just burst.

It's not the same as a life-threatening scenario, because the closest Darling has come close to death or danger is when she catches Marc bleeding out in his flat alone in the middle of the night, trying to stitch himself up when Khonshu decides to be a bitch and not heal him immediately, as some sort of cruel punishment. So she ends up cradling his body as much as she can in her clumsy arms, trying her best to wipe away the evidence of his violence and vengeance from his skin.

After Marc finishes packing and tells Darling about all the ways she can protect and save herself if anything is to happen. At the end of the day, she ended up tucked in her bed, a towel wrapped around her wet hair, watching YouTube videos on her laptop. At some point, Darling felt a little peckish and remembered that Marc had given her a full bag of groceries she hadn't even put away yet. So she hurried out of bed to put the milk in the fridge and all the rest where they belonged so they wouldn't get bad. The last item that had to be put away was a small yellow box, with 4 egg custard tarts in it. Darling slowly smiled, warmth and happiness washing over her.

They were the same tarts that were hated by Marc and Jake, because they were too sweet, and “Why the hell would egg be a flavour?”. And Steven just didn't eat them, obviously, because he's vegan. 

Instead of Marc being normal and telling her he bought them for her. He tried to lie and say they were his. Darling laughed in her empty flat and took out a spoon, putting the rest in the fridge and sitting down at the table with one tart. She dug her spoon in the soft yellow middle and scooped it up, wrapping her lips around the sweetness of it. It was delicious and outside the window, the moon was high and bright in the sky. 

[fatuismooches]

So i just read your post about the monster-fox'torre and i got an idea.

Dottore is extremely intelligent, but even geniuses like him sometimes fail - hypotheses turn out to be incorrect, experiements go wrong, etc. Now what if...

As expected, the first Segment creation ended up in failure. Instead of a clone-like copy of himself, he created a black monster-looking creature with a red eye in a middle. Figuring he can't just set the tiny monstrosity lose, he kept it in his lab depths to prevent it from being seen by anyone ever again. But Dottore underestimated the curiosity of bored Fragile!Reader.

One day, Fragile!Reader wakes up feeling much better than usual and takes a stroll around massive laboratory, exploring the endless maze of corridors. That's when they meet *that*. To their own surprise, the little monster doesn't appear hostile in the slightlest and eyes them with just as curious look as the reader. So what does the Fragile Reader does? Yep. They claim the little monster as their property.

Dottore freezes when he walks in on Fragile Reader casually playing with the little fluffy monster in their bed, cuddling it, giving it headpats, telling it how adorable it is. "(Name), where did you find that?". His lover has a beaming smile on their faces and explain themselves but the explanation soon leads to a begging marathon - they want to keep the little monstrosity! After awhile, Dottore gives in.

For Dottore's surprise, after the little monster was adopted by Fragile Reader, their health condition has taken a turn for the better. Much better. They seem a lot happier and the positive emotions keep their illness state stable. How can he not allow the little monstrosity stay, then?

His heart completely melts when he finds reader cuddling the little monster like a severely oversized teddy bear.

- 🐺 (is this emoji taken, btw? I sent an ask previously, but you can ignore it, it is fine 😅)

THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY IT'S ADORABLEEEEE 😭😭💖💖

He knew that the clone making process wasn’t going to be an easy one, but he still didn’t expect to fail this bad. The thing didn’t have anything at all that resembled a human! It was a little abomination, he thought, one mistake of many to come. Though he could destroy it right now, it may have some use in the future. So he just chucked it with his other failed experiments and prototypes, not thinking much of it.

Unfortunately for Dottore, the little creature is more intelligent that he thought and you are also quite adventurous. You always knew Dottore was quite innovative and always working on something new in his lab - oftentimes he’d keep you updated on his progress and frustrations - but you didn’t hear anything about a little creature that didn’t even reach your knees! Admittedly, you were a bit nervous at first, but how could you resist that cute little thing peering at you so cutely! It doesn’t resist when you pat it tentatively, and instead leans into your hand like a touch-starved baby. And it’s so soft and fluffy yet light and you can just scoop it up into your arms! Surely Dottore wouldn’t mind if you just… took it for a bit? If it was important, it wouldn’t be out here roaming the deepest depths of the lab anyway.

He’s initially a bit concerned about you hanging out with this thing because he doesn’t know what it’s capable of, but after a quick examination he deems it relatively harmless. He doesn’t exactly share or understand your fondness (you certainly find strange things to be “cute”… first him, now this little monstrosity) but it seems to make you happy, so he sees no harm in letting you keep it. This wasn’t the first time you took interest in his experiments anyway. And how can he resist when you’re giving him such an adorable look?

He comes to realize that it genuinely makes you happy. The little thing keeps a smile on your face, and it helps you get out of bed sometimes. It’s like your pet, in a way. Even though it doesn’t need to eat. It just requires cuddles, according to you. And it also likes baths, and high-quality shampoo (it has to keep its fur fluffy, once again according to you. Dottore had no clue you were that attached to it.)

…The only problem is that sometimes the little creature decides to lay on the bed while the two of you are cuddling, and every time Dottore tries to kick it out but you don’t let him because you feel bad.