#but just when he does things like this it really upsets me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mywhisperingwords · 1 day ago

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these three little words | fred g. weasley

summary: four times fred told you he loved you and one time he truly meant it word count: 3.6k masterlist

“You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

Fred put a hand on his heart while saying, “You wound me greatly.”

Rolling your eyes, you kept walking, leaving him behind, “And yet you are still alive and well just to annoy me.”

Behind you, you could hear him snickering to himself before he caught up with you.

“Just you, my darling,” he told you, putting his arm around your shoulder, “besides, all I said was that your sudden interest in Potions was quite suspicious. For some unknown reason I doubt that you do it for George and me.”

He put his mouth close to your ear, his hot breath tickling your cheek and the sudden closeness made it hard for you to comprehend the next words he whispered, “One might wonder if some specific professor has anything to do with that.”

It took you a moment, but you finally realized what he meant.

“Are you seriously accusing me of fancying Snape? Snape of all people? Sickening,” you shouted as you pushed him away from you with a revolted expression. “That thought alone makes me want to throw up in your face.”

“Now, now, don’t be so vulgar. Snape is awkwardly handsome, quite old and wise. Maybe he could teach you some things,” he started winking suggestively at you before breaking in a laughing fit.

All you could was stare at him, horrified by the idea alone.

This whole conversation only sparked because you mentioned your study’s that were related to potion making. Which you only took up, to help out with new creations in relation to Fred, and George, of course.

Maybe he wasn’t that far off with the whole fancying idea, he just confused the person you fancied.

“Do you hear that?” he asked abruptly, a serious look on his face, that made your stomach twist in an uncomfortable way.

“What?” you asked, still annoyed but also a bit nervous. You weren’t that far away from the forbidden forest and you never knew what kind of creatures were luring in the shadows.

“I thought I heard,” he paused for a moment, suspension rising, “wedding bells.”

“Merlin, you’re a git,” you moaned.

You swiftly turned away from him and crossed your arms, more annoyed with him and his stupid jokes. Quickly you started walking, trying to get away from him.

Maybe it was your attitude or maybe he just realized that you were done with his jokes at the moment but he immediately went after you.

When he caught up with, he again put his arm on your shoulder, before saying, “Aw, come on. You know I was just joking.”

Ignoring him, you kept on walking in the direction of the castle. You weren’t bothered by his jokes, not really. It’s Fred you’re talking about here, he does not mean any harm — at least not to you.

You were also not upset by his little scare, or maybe a little bit. To be honest, you were not quite sure why you were so agitated currently.

Maybe it was the fact that you spent your free time studying, just for him, and George of course. But mostly for Fred. And all he could do is make a mockery out of it just so he doesn’t have to deal with real feelings.

Because you knew, that he was overwhelmed when you told him your studies were a way of helping him and George with their products. Fred wasn’t someone who asked for help, he’d rather deal with his problems on his own. But he also knew that accepting offered help wasn’t a weakness, especially when it came from you.

You recognized it in the way he got quiet for a moment, avoiding looking at you, his cheeks turning a shade of pink, before starting to joke around.

It was a typical Fred reaction.

“Don’t be like that, darling. I love you, don’t ignore me,” he murmured, pressing his lips against the side of your head.

Sometimes you wondered if he knew, when he said things like that but you were aware of the fact that he only saw you as a friend—he had made that clear numerous times.

“I’ll stop ignoring you if you stop joking about me and Snape,” you told him.

He held up his hands in surrender, “Deal.” Grinning at you, he linked his arm with yours, continuing the way up the hill towards the castle.

After a beat of silence, he interrupted it by saying, “But be honest with me, you fancy him at least a tiny bit, right?”

This time, when you pushed him away, you couldn’t help yourself and let out a laugh at his stupid joke.

Nights like these were your favorite.

Sitting in Gryffindor common room that was buzzing with conversation, around the fireplace with the people who felt like home to you, and Fred, who was so much more.

All the jokes, the laughter and the love that was shared between you made it sometimes difficult to deem this your life—it felt too good to be true.

Angelina was just retelling the story of how her newest fling asked her out, right after he won his quidditch game. The whole school witnessed that slightly awkward scene, but Angelina was head over heels about this public display of affection.

You could see that George was not so fond of these news, he was averting his gaze and seemed to obviously be more than annoyed at Angelina’s pawning about this handsome Hufflepuff boy.

If only George would tell her how he felt, but who were you to judge, considering you could not even tell your best friend about your feelings.

George’s behavior seemed to be obvious to anyone but Angelina, but Lee was the one to finally put George out of his misery and interrupt her speech, “I can’t even fathom what rid that guy to do all that in public.”

Angelina rolled her eyes, while everyone else laughed. “Maybe the fact that he knows what a woman wants?” she said, raising her eyebrow at you, clearly looking for support on this matter.

But you were the wrong one to address, because you couldn’t imagine anything more horrifying than somebody confessing their love for you in front of everyone.

“I understand that you like that kind of thing, but me personally, I think I would die of embarrassment. I don’t want my love to be so out in the open, at the end of the day it’s only between me and that person,” you told her, giving her an apologetic smile.

While trying to convey your thoughts on that matter, you couldn’t help yourself but let your mind wander to the person you always thought about these days it felt like.

Fred was sitting right next to you, but he was not his usual loud and joking self. There was something weighing on his mind and you wished you could just crawl inside it to find out what was wrong.

But you could not, so all you could do was lean to his side and quietly ask him, “Are you alright?”

Your words seemed to have pulled him out of his thoughts, because his eyes locked on yours, he was quiet for a moment, taking his time to think about his answer. He seemed to find it in your face, because he slowly began to grin before jumping out of his seat, interrupting George who was just talking enthusiastically.

Even with everyone’s eyes on him, he seemed to have only eyes for you.

“Oh, dearest lady of mine heart!” he exclaimed, striding toward you with a grand sweep of his arm. The room fell silent, a few chuckles escaping from his friends as he carried on with exaggerated passion.

He took your hand, eyes glinting with mischief as he dropped to one knee. “Thou art as radiant as the morning sun that doth chase away the drear of night,” he intoned, voice dramatic and thick with feigned longing. “Might I but win a single glance of thy affection, my soul would soar higher than the castle towers!”

You bit back a grin, feeling your cheeks heat up as everyone laughed, watching Fred carry on his theatrical performance.

He leaned in, lowering his voice just a touch. “Ah, fair lady, dost thou know what torment ‘tis to sit beside thee, with no claim upon thy heart?” His tone softened, eyes suddenly more serious than playful. “For, alas, thou hast bewitched me in ways I can scarce confess.”

Someone whistled, and George called out, “Go on, Freddie! Pour your heart out!”

With a smirk, Fred straightened and gave a bow. “Then, my fair one, grant me but a single smile, and I shall know all is well with my heart—for it beats for thee alone.”

You were staring holes into the ceiling, wide awake.

That wasn’t a rarity these days.

The impending war was hanging over your head, the uncertainty these days was keeping you up most nights nowadays. Never knowing if the next day would arrive with word of the beginning of the end.

You were staying at the Burrow, a house that has always felt like a safe place, a second home, to you. Lately it didn’t feel as secure as it used to, only the people occupying the space giving it the feeling of a home.

People were scared and though you tried not to show it, you were too.

Sleep was not going to come, you were sure of that. It has come worse and worse in the last few weeks.

That was the reason for why you would spend most nights in at the porch, looking out at the trees until the sun would rise and the rest of the house would wake up.

Some nights Fred would catch you up, not being able to rest himself, so he’d keep you company for a while, until sooner or later falling asleep on the floor next to you.

He would sometimes try to lighten the mood, trying to get you to laugh. Trying to put a smile on your lips, to make these times feel less daunting. And other times he would just sit in silence next to you, watching the sunrise. That’s when you would know that even Fred himself was struggling with being hopeful.

But you would never talk about it, because that would mean that this was real. The possibility of death and loss might not just be that — a possibility.

This night was different than the others and you couldn’t quite pinpoint why that was.

Maybe the reason was, that Fred was already out of bed. Normally you would be the first to come downstairs and he would soon after follow. Sometimes you would swear that he would just listen for your footsteps down the hallway, before he would emerge from his room.

This time when you walked down the stairs, you saw that the side door was slightly open.

When you walked by the kitchen window, you could see Fred sitting outside, staring at the night sky.

He did not acknowledge your presence when you took a seat next to him. All he did was continue to stare at the stars that shone so brightly, even in times like these, looking deep in thought.

After a few minutes of silence, his quiet question was a startling reminder that this fight was taking a constant toll on everyone, even the ones filled with happiness.

“Don’t you wish that it would all just end?”

You did not expect a question like this from him, the one person in this world that always had a hopeless optimism, no matter how bad things looked, he was the one that always said that things can only get better, even with a dagger in his heart.

There was no answer, that you could give him. At least not one, that he did not already know himself.

After a long moment of silence, where you admired the clear night-sky, you told him in a soft voice, “The stars are beautiful tonight.”

“Yes, yes they are,” he agreed, but when you looked over at him, his gaze wasn’t directed towards the sky, no, it was directed at you.

All you could do was stare back at him, and listen to the beating of your heart. You swore, if you stopped breathing, you could also pick up the beat of his.

“I love you,” he whispered and the beating of your heart stopped, for only a second, “You’re my best friend.”

How strange it was to feel anything at all.

You were bleeding.

A few moments before, you got hit, you think, you couldn’t remember when it happened exactly.

All you could do was to keep going, ignoring the humming pain at your side. The adrenaline pumping in your veins was keeping you from thinking clearly, acknowledging the deep wound.

The one and only thing that was on your mind, was Fred.

Ever since you heard his name leaving someone’s lips, mentioning that he was hurt, severely, all you could do was look for him in every face that laid on the ground. So many bodies, so many souls that have left before their time.

You felt guilty, that every time you did not see his face on any of the bodies, you felt a sense of relief.

With every turn you took, people were trying desperately to make it out alive. It was a miracle that you were even still alive at this point, with the way you were running past Death Eaters without a care in the world.

It was in the Great Hall where you finally found him, sitting on one of the gurneys.

Without a second thought, you ran towards him, engulfing him in your arms, needing to make sure that he was real and not just a figment of your imagination. There was too much demise for you not to consider that you yourself have already passed.

But when Fred put his arms around you and pulled you against his body you knew that this was real, because it hurt like hell. He was pressing against the wound on your side and you were hurting him too, you must be, given the state he was in. But not any of this mattered when you felt so secure in his arms.

“What were you thinking?” you muttered in his neck, not wanting to let go of him, “You could be dead.”

Fred’s ghost of a laugh brushed the skin of your cheek, leaving a haunted touch. His response to your worries was unconcerned, “I’m not.”

His carelessness made you push him from you, turning your head to the side, so he couldn’t catch a glimpse of the tears welling in your eyes when you whispered, “But you could’ve been.”

The realization hit you at once. There was a sudden urge to just scream your soul out, as you acknowledged that there was a possibility that you could not be sitting here with Fred.

But you did not lash out, no, you broke down. The adrenaline rush and the fear of losing Fred was leaving your body at once and you began crying, not being able to hold them in any longer.

There were so many emotions you were feeling in this moment, guilt for not staying with Fred, anger at anyone who harmed him, and panic for everything you have endured to still be alive.

Fred reached out his hand, taking ahold of yours, muttering sweet nothings to you, “I’m okay, hey, I’m okay.” But you wouldn’t hear it, even if his words rang true. The idea of finding a lifeless Fred in the Great Hall was still to raw. All he could do to comfort you, was to hold you, and he did as he continued to whisper, “I’m right here, alive and breathing.”

You heard his words but you did not recognize them, too caught up with sorting through the mess of your mind. But his next words finally got through to you, because he confessed with a low voice and a soft smile, “I love you too much to just leave you like that.”

Only a few moments later, he noticed the blood on your shirt, a fearful expression on his face as he saw your exhausted eyes, yelling out, “I need a healer. Now!”

Something shifted between the two of you after the war, you could feel it in the air, almost being able to touch it with your bare hands.

It was in the way he looked at you, like you would vanish the moment he looked away, and the way he touched you, the way he refused to let go of you, like he feared that you might fade away from his life.

As if he wasn’t the one that could’ve almost slipped away from you.

Maybe it was a reassurance to him, to feel that he was still here, alive and breathing.

To you it was torture. Never before has he been so close to you, yet so far. It was cruel, if you were being honest.

You had taken on the responsibility of helping out with the shop, with Fred healing and George being overwhelmed with the workload, it only made sense.

That was at least what you told yourself. The whole truth was, that you too were scared that if you only for a second turned around that he would be gone. That it had all only been a dream, and Fred had not survived the war but had succumbed to his injuries.

But he had.

It was a day like the one before, you sat next to Fred in the office after the shop had closed, looking over some of the paperwork.

You worked in silence next to one another, but all you fixate on was the way his thigh was plastered on your thigh, the way his arm was pressing right into your arm. It was hard to tell where you began and he ended, everything was blended together and you loathed it.

You hated it, because it was everything you ever wanted, but it looked wrong, misshapen.

“When I was talking to George earlier, he asked if you were staying over again, I told him that you were,” he mumbled, not looking up from his work.

That had been another thing that had been creeping into your new everyday without you noticing it at first. You spend most of your time at their flat, only going to yours to get the mail and water your plants, that were slowly rotting away with the amount of times you were actually around to take care of them.

Like so many other things, it had been unspoken. An unspoken agreement between you, that was just there.

Just like it had been unspoken that you would no longer spend the night on the living room sofa and instead on Fred’s bed, when he saw the uncomfortable sleep you would have on that sofa. Which was not completely true, because it wasn’t the sofa keeping you awake, it was the nightmares.

It was a day like this, long ago, when instead of letting you go left to the living room, he gently took your hand and lead you into his room. Neither of you said a word, when you got ready for bed. You just laid down together, taking comfort in one another, while holding onto each other.

You did not talk about, how you slept better together, or how the nightmares were fewer now. That was just another thing that sneaked its way into your everyday routine.

So when you walked up the stairs into his flat, that felt more like home to you than your own home, you did not say anything, because it was just the way things were now.

And you did not say anything, when you two stood in his tiny bathroom and undressed for bed, because it was just the way things were now.

And you did not say anything, when you crawled into his bed, onto your side, because it was just the way things were now.

But when he put his arms around you, and whispered those three words into your ear, like it was just a part of your new normal, you could not keep quiet any longer.

“Don’t say that, please, don’t say that. Not if you don’t mean it,” you whimpered into the darkness of the night.

He tightened his grip on you, whispering “But I do mean it.”

You were shaking, and with a raw throat you told him the truth, “Not in the way I want you to.”

“In what way do you want me to mean it?” he asked, voice soft.

“In every way.”

He put his lips on your neck, “I do, in every way.”

For the first time in, what felt like years, you finally let go. You let go of all that pain you endured over the years, all of the confusion and agonizing fear you felt. Sobbing into the arms of the man that you have loved, long before you even knew what love truly meant.

And all he did, was hold you together, so you could fall apart, continuing to whisper these words in your ear.

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aewon · 2 days ago

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when they find out you’re a mermaid

pairing: enhypen x f!reader g: fluff, est relationship warnings: cursing, pet names, kissing note: i’m literally writing an h2o inspired fic but i wanted to do this too hehe also i went crazy with sunghoon’s lmao

LEE HEESEUNG

you didn’t expect to see your boyfriend in your secluded area on the beach, and unfortunately it was too late to hide your tail.

“hey baby i—” cue the shock.

you’re looking at him in fear, not knowing what he’s gonna do next. is he gonna scream? run? tell someone? but he doesn’t do any of those things, he just asks, astonished, “you’re a mermaid?”

when you nod, he just walks forward, sitting on his knees beside you. “how did this happen?” when you explain it to him, he’s amazed. “i never knew something like that was possible.”

“are you afraid?” you ask him. he shakes his head, “afraid? baby i think you’re the most magnificent thing i’ve ever seen.” and he just looks at you like he’s even more in love than he already was.

“can i touch it?” he asks, and you know he’s referring to your tail. you giggle and nod, and he wastes no time in bring a gentle hand to it. the scales feel smooth against his hand and he’s mesmerized.

you ask if he’s gonna tell anyone and he shakes his head vehemently, “no, never. i would never put you in danger like that.” and you know that you can trust him.

PARK JONGSEONG

you invited your boyfriend over to confess something that’s been gnawing at you for awhile.

when he arrives, he gives you the usual hug and kiss, but quickly realizes something serious is going on.

“what’s wrong babe?”

you say nothing, just taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom. while inside you sit on the bed, him following you.

“i have something to tell you… or rather, show you.”

you take the water bottle on your nightstand, open it, and pour just the smallest amount on yourself.

jay looks at you in confusion, but within seconds, you’ve transformed. it almost blinds it, the glowing light, but after it subsides, the first thing he sees is your tail.

“what the fuck?” he says, eyes wide and mouth open. “you’re a….mermaid?” as you tell him your story, he listens intently as he always does though he’s still shocked. once you finish, his mouth opens and closes like a fish, which you can’t help but find adorable. “are you mad?” you ask.

“no, i’m just… in awe i guess. i never thought mermaids were real but here you are.” he immediately promises that he won’t tell anyone to your relief and starts asking questions. as you show him your power, he looks like a kid in a candy shop.

“you’re amazing, i can’t believe my girlfriends a mermaid.” the giddy smile on his face makes you laugh.

SIM JAEYUN

you completely forgot that jake has a key to your apartment.

you don’t realize he’s inside until he’s barging into your bathroom while your mid-bath, in your mermaid form.

he jumps back, “what the fuck?”

you begin to stutter, trying to find something to say. “that’s a sick costume, why are you wearing it in the tub though?”

oh my god, you can’t help but laugh at his obliviousness. “it’s not a costume, jake. it’s real.” he blinks a couple times, looking like a confused puppy. “but mermaids aren’t real?”

“well, they are. and i’m one of them.”

he walks forward, running his hand along your tail and you can visibly see him shiver. “holy shit.”

once you explain how you became this way, he looks star struck. “so that pool really turned you, with the moon and everything?”

as you nod and answer more of his questions, him having comes to sit beside the tub on the toilet, you realize he’s not angry or upset. you voice this to him and he just gives you his signature smile, “of course i’m not angry. why would i be? i understand why you kept it from me.”

you relax, knowing you can trust him. within a few minutes he’s become obsessed with your tail. he’s continuously stroking it, amazed by the texture of the scales and the way your top is covered. you indulge him, feeling safe and relieved now that he knows.

PARK SUNGHOON

you knew you shouldn’t have come to this party. it’s a pool party for gods sake. you don’t belong near any pools. sunghoon is the one who invited you, it’s his party of course, why wouldn’t he invite his girlfriend? you should’ve came up with an excuse to miss it, but you didn’t want to disappoint him.

you figured as long as you stay covered from head to toe and stay away from the pool, you’ll be okay.

how wrong you were. not only are you getting questioning looks for your attire, your boyfriend being one of them, you can’t seem to get far away enough from the water.

“baby, are you okay? why are you wearing all that?” all that being layers and a long coat. you tell him you’re not feeling good and he pouts a little, “you could’ve told me, i would’ve understood.”

you know, but you didn’t want him to get suspicious.

without warning, two guys behind you suddenly lift you up, throwing you into the pool. your other friends that are there, manage to get everyone inside, locking them in with ice.

everyone except sunghoon.

as you turn, your worst fear comes to life as sunghoon looks at you in shock, or what you assume to be horror.

“what the hell is going on?” he says, backing away from the pool. you stutter as you try to explain, but you can hear the others trying to get back outside.

“help us sunghoon!” your friends beg, as they try to pull you out of the pool, but you’re too heavy.

he just stands there, frozen in place. you hold out your hand, “i’ll explain everything. just please, help me.”

your pleading eyes seem to snap him out of it, and then he’s helping pull you out of the pool onto the concrete. your friend quickly uses her power to begin drying your tail. it burns but you don’t complain.

when you’ve successfully changed back, you and the others rush out of there, not wanting people to question how you’re dry.

once away from the others, you explain yourself to sunghoon. the other girls backing you up. “are you upset?” you ask. sunghoon shakes his head, “not at all, just shocked and amazed. but don’t worry you’re all safe with me.” he takes your hand, kissing the back of it.

KIM SUNOO

you and sunoo have been dating for a few months and you’ve been trying to find a way to tell him you’re a mermaid.

you decide to take him to mako island, where you know no one else will see.

“i don’t understand why we’re here. you know i don’t like hiking.” he’s complaining and you can’t help but giggle at his attitude. you promise him you’re almost there, and once you reach the opening you send him down first, following afterward.

“i damn near broke my ankle! what are we doing down here?”

you lead him to the moon pool, and he looks around in awe. “what is this place?”

“that’s what i wanted to show you,” you say before gently lowering yourself into the moon pool. sunoo just looks at you confused and starts to talk, “why are you getting in the water—"

he’s interrupted by the bright glow of your transformation. once your mermaid form is visible, he gasps.

“what the fuck? what is this? what are you? you’re a mermaid?” his mouth is moving a million miles a minute, throwing out question after question.

you finally manage to calm him down and explain what happened. his widened eyes eventually soften, “oh baby, why didn’t you tell me sooner? i’d never be upset or betray you.”

“i know, i was just scared.”

“you never have to be scared with me, i’ll never hurt you.” with that, he leans down, giving you a kiss.

YANG JUNGWON

jungwon was the human equivalent of a nerd. his interest in mythology of all kinds amazed you.

his latest fascination, mermaids. he tells you all about their “possible” existence, sightings, origins, everything there is to know. which is why, when you finally decide to show him your other form, he’s more than ecstatic.

“i fucking knew it, i knew they were real! holy shit my girlfriends a mermaid!”

you answer all his questions, confirming and denying facts and misconceptions. once he’s finally calmed down and not so jittery, you ask him, “you’re not gonna tell anyone, are you?”

“and let them take you away to experiment on you and shit? no way! i’d never do that to you, i love you.”

you coo, “i love you more.”

you let him touch your tail, and he’s amazed by the luminescence of your scales. how they shine in the sunlight.

you tell him all about your abilities and power. showing him how you can manipulate water and speak to sea creatures.

“promise me you’ll take me swimming with you one time? i’d love to see you in action.”

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki was worried when you texted him, telling him you needed to talk. he expected the worst, that you were breaking up with him, not this by a long shot.

as he stares at your tail, his gaze unwavering, his face almost emotionless, you get nervous.

“riki, are you okay?”

he looks up at you finally, and just says, “you’re a fucking mermaid.” before going back to look at your tail.

you snort, “gee thanks for letting me know.”

he doesn’t even react to your sarcasm, just continues to stare.

“my girlfriends a mermaid. this is the coolest day of my life,” he says after a solid 5 minutes of silence.

you take his hand, bringing it to your tail to touch. he’s gentle, treating you as if you’ll break.

“this is the coolest day of my life,” he repeats.

you laugh, “we got that the first time. are you gonna tell?”

he shakes his head, “i don’t want anyone knowing about this except me. it’ll be our little secret.” he brings you forward for a kiss. letting you go, he jumps into questions, and you answer them all gratefully.

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dreamerdrop · 13 hours ago

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Oh God, yeah. During the war, Julian is basically going full into survival mode. He's pulling away from people, he's keeping his mouth shut, he's basically letting himself turn into a hollow shell that just looks like him because everything is so exhausting and he doesn't really... have it in him to be himself anymore.

I feel like I personally give kind of a pass to most of the characters on DS9 being jerks about Julian being obviously autistic for the sole reason that... one of the things I like about DS9 is that they're all pretty messed up in one way or another. Miles is allergic to voicing emotions and sentiments out loud (despite Keiko's best efforts, but she's also not great at it herself), Jadzia is shown constantly to have a REALLY inappropriate and poorly timed sense of humour, Kira is... Kira, and her issues mean that Julian's issues basically rub against each other like sandpaper.

Garak is interesting in how his dynamic intersects with Julian being autistic though. Garak seems to delight in Julian doing things like being blunt, infodumping, etc. Garak is someone who would drive ME a little nuts IRL because his specific brand of enigmatic behaviour would wreak hell on my lack of self esteem and inability to trust my judgement...

But for Julian, it seems to be a huge part of the draw. I think, in part, it's because Garak does seem to recognise when he's pushed too far and then, in his own weird way, often... relents a little.

Like in Cardassians, on the shuttlecraft. Julian basically says, very bluntly, "Garak stop talking in riddles this is serious and I don't want to play games anymore" and Garak immediately goes "alright fine here I'll talk as plainly as I am comfortable with".

Or, in an odd way, the scene on the Defiant during... season 6? Where Garak is basically insulting Julian over his augmented status. That scene is a little rough, even with the knowledge that this is effectively flirting for Garak, but. There's something in it that actually stands out to me as Garak trying to relent a little.

Specifically, his comment about Julian being a Vulcan. Julian is sensitive about his augmented status. Garak knows this. Garak insults him over it, and then towards the end of that little spat, saying "you're not genetically engineered, you're a vulcan", it kind of... reads as like, Garak trying to steer the conversation back to something playful, something that isn't actually attacking Julian.

(And there's obviously a lot to be said for how Julian is somewhat smiling to himself at the end of that scene.)

I think there's something similar to that in his dynamic with the others. I don't think any of them really have particularly good social skills, honestly. Jadzia comes closest but her levels of extroversion and enthusiasm mean she's often putting her foot in her mouth too. (... oh that's why she and Julian make good friends, they both have the party autism.)

Thing is, I think if Julian ever actually said to any of them "hey that actually kind of upsets me could we not" and they realized he meant it, they would apologize and mean it, but because everyone on that station is messed up and lacking in social skills, they all kind of constantly end up battering against each other with poorly timed jokes and insensitive remarks and dismissal of trauma and none of them ever figure out how to address any of it.

Narratively, though, Julian's trauma gets brushed over more than almost anyone else's, and that DOES piss me off about the writing. Even before we get to the augmentation aspect (which is taken seriously as traumatic for exactly ONE episode), a lot of the time Julian's issues just... get kind of tossed to one side.

Character wise, I think Julian is the type to focus on other people's issues so he doesn't have to acknowledge his own, but the way the show itself often ignores those issues does REALLY grate on me.

Julian Bashir walks a very fine, maddening line between “self-loathing imposter syndrome who knows almost everyone who speaks to him for more than a minute finds him insufferable” and “incredibly self assured and annoyingly arrogant to the point of a minor god complex”.

He knows he’s attractive, he thinks he’s charming as all hell, he knows he’s the smartest person in the room (while also being acutely aware he’s going to put his foot in his mouth any second now), and he just swings wildly between “I don’t deserve anything I have, none of this is mine, my life is not my own, I am a monster” and “HELL YEAH LOOK HOW COOL AND SMART I AM GUYS ARE YOU LOOKING ARE YOU LOOKING”.

And then there’s episodes that reveal that underneath that annoying arrogance, at the very core of who he is, he really, really just wants to help people, and if he fucks that up he WILL take it personally and hold himself responsible even if there’s no way he could have known and like. Can you imagine what his first patient death was like for him. Can you imagine what a fucking nightmare his brain must be 24/7.

He is somehow as inherently self assured as he is in need of constant validation for his ego because you can SEE him break a little when that ego fails him, even a little, and it’s just.

He’s very fun to write. I hate him. (I love him so much, but oh my god.)

#star trek #star trek ds9 #julian bashir #stella talks #.This got really long sorry i started doing garashir meta halfway and then just got really mad at the writers.#.julians issues get SO BRUSHED OVER in the show and i just???????#.GIVE HIM A RECOVERY ARC LIKE EVERYONE ELSE HE DESERVES IT PLEASE.

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torasplanet · 1 day ago

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been thinking a lot about frat!toman and being their sweetheart. i have many ideas but the one stuck on me is when they all just can't get enough of you! they all share but it's getting to a point where they're damn near ready to go through a barbaric war for you.

mikey, the frat prez, would treat you like an absolute princess like the most of them but with him you really are. he can do what he wants and say what he wants meaning you get whatever you want but he doesn't particularly enjoy it when you get mouthy. nobody else does either.

the only one who really seems to like it is nahoya, it really gets him going when you tell everyone how it is and make demands. what else gets him going is when he gets you to shut all that shit up. it's funny to him almost. you get a little bit of dick and everything you tried to stand on matters much less than before, in fact you've forgotten about it.

mitsuya is such a sweetheart when it comes to the frat sweetheart. he treats you like fine china, of course he has his moments but he's nowhere as rough as some of the others can be...he's your favorite, for a reason.

draken is also a nice one but don't get him wrong, he's very quick to snap you back into place if you're being too much of a...brat, he'd say. he's also king of casual dominance. he's sort of a mitsuya mixed with a baji. he'll always make sure you're okay while he's treating you and whatever you call that nasty thing between your thighs like nothing but a cumdump.

speaking of him, baji is such a tease. he's mean, to say the least. he likes to show you off, he's not scared of people knowing about the situation going on the frat. in his words, most people already think frat sweethearts get fucked like you. he can be nice, he's a gentleman of course but most of the time, he is such a meanie !!

however, this doesn't make him the meanest. chifuyu, whether you believe it or not, can be pretty fucking mean. he's such a sweetie, he loves you and adores you yet when you get him upset, he's torturing your poor clit for hours to the point you wish that nahoya was the one pissed off !! don't even get me started on how filthy his mouth will get...

kazutora is the real sweetheart though, him and souya both. kazutora is always so gentle with you, he takes you out on dates and treats you before he even thinks about getting between your legs. speaking of, he is a real eater !! he can cum just from eating you out and then he's satisfied for the day. but with the way he likes to cum, you'll be getting eaten out until kazutora has to get rid of his pants because of how much he stained them.

souya by far has to be the best gentleman. he waited so long to fuck you, he knew you were sore from the recent relationships in the frat and he wanted you to really feel him and everything he has to offer. he still does the same. he refuses to fuck you if someone else already had soon before him, the most he'll do is foreplay and enough to make you cum untouched. he hates seeing your pretty pussy all spoiled with someone else's cum!! all he wants is to stare at how his cum is so sheer spread all over your thighs and cunt.

but what they all fight about is who gets to do your aftercare and taking you out. as much as they love seeing you all fucked out, they love seeing that sweet smile when they give you a surprise date. the toman frat boys simply adore you !!

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

#torasplanet.ᐟ #tokyo revengers x reader #marls-drabbles.ᐟ #tokyo revengers smut #toman #toman x reader #toman smut #frat!au #frat!toman #college au #tokyo rev #tokyo manji gang

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revelboo · 1 day ago

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I love the idea of Everything is Alright being a reverse haram with megs, but I see you said originally. So might not happened, which I think is fine. Star doesn't need anymore trauma, but I can also see the possibility of a simple human mending the tension between the higher ups. Just might cause star, and possibly sounds to be very worried

I may still include Megs later on, just wasn’t sure if I could balance all three. It’s a lot easier when the guys at least kind of get along and this dynamic… not so much

Everything is Alright Pt 55

IDW Starscream x Reader

• Keeping you cradled to him as he types one handed on a report, he’s aware of the warmth of you leaning against him, little head resting against his chassis. “You want to talk about whatever’s bothering you?” You ask softly and his wings flick slightly, servos miskeying a glyph, because he should have realized you’d notice something is off. Always watching him, looking to him. You know him and it’s almost frightening. “You don’t have to,” you add when he’s silent too long, because how to even start? And there’s no way to explain how upset he is about finding out about your life span, without revealing that he cares too much. Without making himself vulnerable and risking rejection.

• Resting your ear against him to listen to the soft thrum of his spark, you don’t really expect him to answer. His feelings are something he hoards, keeping them to himself and only occasionally slipping and letting you see that not only does he care about you, but he needs you with him. “You know I care for you,” he says slowly, raspy words humming through you where you’re against him as one of his servos runs from your shoulder down your arm until you lay your palm against him and he vents. It’s not a question exactly, but not really a statement either. A reminder of how insecure he can be, as if trusting anything or anyone is almost impossible.

• “I care about you, too.” He knows. He really does, but something about hearing you say it settles warm about his spark. Tucking his chin so he can see you, there’s something uncertain in your expression that catches at him before you press your cheek against him so he can’t see your eyes, hiding your expression from him. “I like waking up against you. Like when you worry about me even if you don’t need to. Even when you get aggravated, I like the way your wings fidget.”

• Embarrassed, you keep your face hidden against him, trying to tell him how you feel without saying the actual words. Because telling him you think you might love him and you’re not sure when that happened? Especially if he’s only after something physical, needing someone to be there, but not the same way? It might just break you. You like his nervous tics, like the warmth of him and the way his servos feel absently stroking, touching you. You like him.

• Servos pressing you closer to him, grounding himself with the feel of you until you make a little noise of protest, mumbling that he’s squishing you and he relents. Again he thinks about how it would feel to entrust his spark to you, to feel you touch him that way. Would it only drive home the differences between you? Remind him painfully that there’s no way for this to ever be more, no spark in you to lose himself in? And so little time, he can feel it slipping away from him regardless. Head falling back against the back of his chair, he vents. Softly, hesitantly in Cybertronian, he begins to speak, knowing you can’t understand and feeling you shift to try and look at him as he shutters his optics so he won’t see your expression, because it’s hard enough to open up and this is the only way he can, this one sided conversation. Wishing for things not meant for him, swearing to protect you and cherish what time he has. That you’re his, spark or no spark. Regret and fear and love all tangled together. Feeling when you lay your head back down against him, listening to him without knowing how hard these words are.

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #idw starscream

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daisymbin · 15 hours ago

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[02:11] - jeon wonwoo

warnings: intoxicated reader //

a/n: I really want to proofread this it's just a drabble not even a full fic but I tried like 5 times and my eyes keep shutting and lose track so pls forgive me for now, I will fix it in the morning

check out my masterlist!

after making what feels like at least a hundred phone calls to you, wonwoo was shocked and worried to say the least; when the phone call finally gets answered, wonwoo sure wasnt expecting it to be a bartender telling him you've had way too much to drink. so he rushes to the bar, his chest tightens when his eyes finds home in you, immediately walking over and reaching for you.

"wonie... i love you," wonwoo feels your hot breath right on his ear while he struggles to help you up due to how much you were swaying. he has half a mind to just carry you instead, and so he does. he tugs on you gently to get your attention, then he puts an arm under your knee and another under your shoulder, lifting you in one swift motion.

wonwoo winces as you groan, your head lolling against his chest, but he can’t bring himself to be mad. all he feels is an ache in his chest, a mix of frustration, worry, and something else he can't quite pinpoint. maybe it's fear? fear that you were out like that, so vulnerable and all alone. fear that he'd made a mistake, should he have just apologized? why did he have to argue? the harsh words, the way you stormed out. he should’ve stopped you. he should’ve said something, anything, to make you stay.

he shifts you slightly in his arms, trying to get a better grip as you sway against him. you’re small in his arms. he glances down at your face, seeing the tiredness on it, the way your eyes flicker before you mumble against him again, "wonu, i said i love you."

"i know, angel. i'm sorry i made you so upset, it's my fault."

"i'm sorry, wonu."

"hey, hey," he murmurs, trying to gently shift you in his arms, holding you a little more securely. "it's okay," he says, though he doesn’t entirely believe it. he needs to get you home, make sure you're alright, and talk things through. but for now, he just needs to get you to the car, where he can make sure you're safe.

as he settles you into the passenger seat, he takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. he wants to say something, to apologize too, but he's not sure what. instead, he just mutters quietly, "i love you too," under his breath, hoping you can hear it, even if you don't respond.

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zepskies · 3 days ago

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@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Omg yay!! I'm so excited to dive into your thoughts on Part 2. As you saw, it's a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. 😅

Alright it is devastating right off the bat and I know, I know I should be worried about her and I am. I am SO worried, but my mind completely went somewhere else when Dean PICKED HER UP. The man is so strong and I am just...

LOL girl I don't blame you for being distracted. The mental image of Dean manhandling in Protective Mode does things to me too. 🤣

I was prepared for this coming but dang... "I hope you've learned your damn lesson" is a line that breaks my heart more than I should. It cuts to the quick for me, because to me it's worse than just saying "I told you not to do something." It's not heartless, but it's enough of a rendition of it that it just makes you go "oh wow."

I love this observation. That's exactly what I felt inherently when I was writing that line. It felt more powerful to me than "I told you so" or the like. It has the feeling of that, but with more of an edge, even though you know he cares about her.

I was literally screaming. It's like he wants her to kill him. I know that Dean loves her so much but oh my goodness it's about to get so real for him. Man is about to be torn to shreds.

LMAO I remember someone saw the preview of Part 2 and commented, "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." And I was like, YEP, that's exactly it. Mans playing with his life. 😅😅😅

You just wanna go:

Even though she's upset, Dean is still her best friend and the man she loves and even though he's the one that made her feel this way, she still wants to be comforted by his presence. I always think that, this particular thing is so bittersweet to read about in relationships. Or at least that's how I took this bit 😅.

That's precisely how I intended it! Now looking back, I feel like I should have had her leave him by himself in his room to sleep in another room. But at the time I was writing, I was thinking that for her in particular, despite this being the biggest fight they've had so far in their relationship, he's still the one that makes her feel safe after a bad hunt. 💙

Side note: I am happy that the reader didn't have to tell the woman about her son. That would have broken me to read that especially after the reader promised that they would find her son in part one.

Oh my God, yeah. I considered having her be the one to face her "mistake" and talk to the mother, but I felt that having Sam take that on would be better, even as it added to the reader's guilt (and it would keep the story moving).

Oh my word. I love you friend, but WHY!? Dang it, this pricked at my heart. It's so good, so heart wrenching. I feel so bad for him, but it really just reinforces why he "lost it" with the reader earlier. Goodness the trope of the reader getting yelled at by someone who loves them about putting themselves in danger really is just such a good one for Dean and you do it so well.

Lmaooo I knowww, I'm sorry! All the angsty feels in this one. 😭 Now you see the full weight of why Dean popped off the way he did. He just feels things so deeply, it comes out sometimes in anger, when at the root of it all, it's fear.

Thank you though for that compliment! I think this is the only time I've written that Dean trope. Because I honestly think it's overused, but I tried to do it in a way that made sense for the ultimate growth of their relationship and who Dean is.

His apology is really just pricking at my heart. It's so good, so forthcoming so honest. And the thought that he was "better off alone" is so on brand for him. I know that we've talked about that before, but it really does fit him, and I love how you weave it into this fic.

Aww thank you! 😭😭 Weirdly enough, that was one of my favorite parts to write? Maybe I just like the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff moments. The "better off alone" thing I thought was implied throughout the later seasons of the show after Dean lets go of Lisa and Ben, so I wanted to explore that deeper here, even though it hurt my heart to write it. 💙

She's crying... I'm crying. It's really just tears all around and such a good moment. Also the him saying "You don't have to cry for that"... YES SHE DOES.

Everyone's crying!! 😭 YES ABSOLUTELY SHE DOES -- and she's a verified crier. I see a lot of fics where the reader is tough as nails, "doesn't cry very often," but I wanted to create a reader character who is a badass, but still has a soft heart. (Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL. 🤣🤣)

This is just overall a really wonderful vulnerable moment that you've captured that feels real for both the reader and Dean. Especially when she talks about "working with my heart, not my head." I think that if it were me, I would also be "working with my heart." I don't think that I'd be able to take myself emotionally out of the situation that they're in all the time because they're hunters.

Thank you so much!! 🙏🏽🥹🥹 Yeah same, and it's definitely a contrast with Dean, who obviously cares about helping people and takes way too much responsibility on his shoulders, but he's been doing this so long and seen so much that he's learned to compartmentalize a bit more.

Hoping for some FORESHADOWING 🙏🏻👀

Oh girl yesss! If you make it to the last two stories in the series, remember this moment. 😏💜

Also the salsa lesson is just so cute. And the way you took a really emotional moment to a cute salsa dance to a steamy session to a giggly awkward moment is great. The transitions make it seamless. And the song choices were perfect! When the reader was describing what the song meant I was like, "oh yeah, that's him right there. There's the man officer." lmao 🤣

Ahaha thank you so much!! I LOVE me some salsa music, and it was a fun challenge to try and transition between these scenes. From one writer to another, I always appreciate those "technical" observations. 💓💓💓

Oh big YEP!! "Devorame Otra Ves" was the first song I thought of when the salsa idea came. Dean, in fact, is that guy. 🤣🤣

I was again so emotional reading this, because oh my word, poor Dean just reliving the moments where the reader almost died.

Sorry for jerking the angsty chain again there! 🤣 Poor guy, he went through an ordeal just as much as she did.

And also the final scene 👀🌶️ I should have known from the gif at the beginning tbh lol.

LMAO Oh yeah, the gif was a dead giveaway for what was coming later on. 😏 And thank you for shouting out the “What, now you’re shy?” line! It's a special kind of intimate, I thought, for her to be kind of embarrassed about what she's just done, but Dean like, "uh-uh, you're not getting away that easily." 😂😂

Also I love you for using a Chicago Fire gif!! loll Was a big fan of that show back in the day.

Not to mention that the sex was also giggly towards the end and I really just love that. And the love confessions KNOCKED ME OUT.

Awww thank you! I love me some fun giggly romantic smut. 😂

Fun fact on her confession! When she says I love you twice, she's actually saying it in two different ways:

I love you, you’d said. I love you ("te amo," you're my love) and I love you ("te quiero," you're my family), more than you can believe and understand.

Oh I'm riding a train of emotions, and all of this was so good. Especially Sam walking in on them. I was laughing so hard at Dean's reaction:

Lol but seriously, I really appreciate that, thank you!! This story was definitely an emotional rollercoaster. I'm so glad you enjoyed it though!! 💕 ...And Sam's little mishap LOL. Dean has very little shame -- something he's going to prove later on again in the series. 😂

It's all wonderful my friend! And I can't wait to read another fic from this universe! 😊

Thank you SO very much!! Honestly you don't know how happy it makes me that you're enjoying this series so far -- and spoiling me with such lovely and thoughtful feedback. 🥰💕💕

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster.

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood.

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming.

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done.

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his.

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires.

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest.

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital.

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead.

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness.

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?”

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him.

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead.

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it.

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says.

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you.

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls.

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.”

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps.

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.”

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms.

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely.

You truly become incensed at that.

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks.

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn.

Dean calls your name in frustration.

“What?” you hiss.

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks.

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything.

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town.

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own.

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes.

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back.

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence.

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space.

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music.

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts.

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table.

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips.

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard.

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself.

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart.

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.”

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible.

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him.

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—”

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand.

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it.

Dangerous, for both of us.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes.

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms.

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing.

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.”

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.”

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday.

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea.

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet.

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room.

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.”

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips.

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve.

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head.

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing.

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand.

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance.

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing.

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.”

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot.

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit.

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest.

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.”

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders.

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance.

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles.

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss.

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question.

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking.

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts.

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine.

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close.

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck.

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there.

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms.

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze.

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him.

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs.

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye.

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms.

Oh, fuck yeah.

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs.

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up.

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control.

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls.

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums.

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk.

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground.

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit.

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck.

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you.

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask.

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love.

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze.

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease.

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts.

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs.

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase.

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room.

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest.

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment.

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room.

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again.

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand.

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]:

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]:

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #lovely review! 😍😍#seriously thank you!!#devour me feedback

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ramblinscramblin · 12 hours ago

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May I request scout and demo (and maybe heavy if you want) with a ftm reader??? It can be any scenario NSFW, sfw idc. I'm hungry and I need food 😭 (you don't gotta do this btw just a little thought ♥️)

-‼️

→With a FTM reader!

Genre: slice of life, fluff! Male reader!

Characters: Scout, Demo, Heavy

Of COURSE I will write this. Relationship left pretty ambiguous. Hope you enjoy! Thank you again for the ask!

Scout

Scout definitely doesn’t realize without you spelling it out for him, no matter how “feminine” you may present.

Asks A LOT of questions, borders on invasive, but is just genuinely pretty confused and intrigued about it.

“So… wait, you were born a chick, but now you’re a guy? How’s dat work?”

“Scout, we have been over this. Literally ten times,” you say, exasperated.

After the initial long and honestly exhausting conversation, the two of you feel closer for it. He’s secretly sentimental as hell, so he appreciates you telling him so much, like it genuinely makes him feel so trusted.

When you come out to him, the support is not instant, as he tends to show these kinds of things in really covert ways, he doesn’t want anyone knowing he has a big heart.

But the second someone says something out of line that is when his support is the most apparent. Always corrects someone when they misgender you, but if they continue after he corrects them? Buddy, it’s over.

You tell scout you appreciate it, but you can stand up for yourself. He’s not really having it though, too hot headed to let it go.

Genuinely forgets your trans at time.

“Why don’t you ever use the urinals? S’weird,” the commented once as you left the bathroom together.

“Scout.”

“What?” He blinked at you dumbly for a few seconds, before realization dawns on him “oh shit! Dats right, sorry.”

He’s trying his best.

Demoman

Demo is part of team “not really my business so it doesn’t affect me”

As in it doesn’t really affect the way that he feels about you, or the way he treats you.

Doesn’t ask any questions unless it’s clear to him it’s something you’d like to talk about.

Depending on closeness he may even feel confident in making some jokes about it. Only if you find them funny though, absolutely wouldn’t do it if made you upset/uncomfortable.

Is big into giving you male experiences that you may have missed out on, mostly cliché and stereotypical things, some of which you have probably definitely done before.

“Demo, I think we’re a little too old to be playing trains right now,” you say, holding a train in your hand.

“Fine then, I’ll just clean it up then,” Demo said with a huff.

You stop him “well… I didn’t say that.”

Let’s you speak for yourself in most settings, but if you ever express your discomfort in a situation he won’t hesitate to remove you from it/remove the person causing this discomfort.

Doesn’t make a huge scene, will take the blame for you saying it’s him who’s got a problem.

Demo supports you when you need it, encourages you through your medical transition if you choose to do so/if you haven’t already.

Alternatively, reassures you that you’re not less of a man for not having surgeries or using HRT if you choose not to.

I honestly believe that Demo has been around a lot of queer people, he’s the world’s best trans ally.

Heavy

Heavy, like Scout has a lot of questions when you come out. Isn’t nearly as invasive and holds back anything that he thinks may make you uncomfortable.

It doesn’t change how he views you, thinks of you as man no matter what.

Really appreciates that he’s someone you trust enough to tell, even if he doesn’t fully get it, he understands that it can be a nerve wracking thing to talk about.

Recommends medic if you want to have any surgeries done, respectfully you decline. Fearing for the rest of your organs well being.

Heavy does a lot of reading to ensure he gets things right, but only brings up your transness if you do.

Loves hearing about your trans experience if you tell him about it, will listen intently taking mental notes.

Doesn’t feel the need to protect you, you’re a grown man who handled himself perfectly fine without him. But, like Demo, if he feels you getting a little out of your depth all he really has to do is come stand behind you.

Gender affirming nicknames, always. I feel like Heavy is big into nicknames some of his favorite for you is “big man” “guy” “handsome” if he’s feeling bold.

“How is the big man today,” he asked coming up to you one day.

You chuckle a little bit “it really should be me asking you that.”

Being with Heavy is a testosterone booster, just enjoy being masculine together.

OOOOO I LOVED WRITING THIS SO MUCH. I may revisit this idea later and add more of the mercs, for now I have more asks to get to! Thanks so much for the ask! (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 scout #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #x reader #headcanons #heavy x reader #scout x reader #demoman x reader #ftm reader #transmasc reader #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you

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icarusredwings · 15 hours ago

Text

oooooh HELLO NEW CONTESTANT!!

Ps. Im so sorry for whoever has to see this huge chain of reblogs.

So yeah that was semi the plan love love love your thoughts except I had the idea that eventually they would find the cure BECAUSE of wade. Since wade can consent (and can restrain himself not to chomp people) he (unfortunately) would infact be the perfect test subject and because logan is definitely not gonna let some assholes test his lover without making sure its ethical and not harm him more then good, Wade would be quite accepting.

It also helps (Now don't look at me like that- you gotta understand his situation) that wade is very food and affection motivated so yes while he does still feel pain and heals slower then usual (still way faster then a human) it would only be natural for him to whine or not want hurt.

So yeah, in between shots and what not he's given pieces of meat and hugged, nuzzled, etc.

"One more and then were done. Hear me?" Logan tells them, coming to wade, Giving him some left overs and putting his arm around him.

"Just one more okay? Then we'll go see the girls."

He nods, mouth already full of the food, happy at the mention from the girls.

Another thing is Wade dosn't just wonder off in a sense of he dosn't know what hes doing or just aimlessly is leaving like how other zombies mindlessly walk around. Wade "wonders off" mainly because he knows if he dosn't eat anything soon hes going to hurt someone and he dosn't want that so he removes himself from the situation.

He also eats just about anything. Yeah he heavily prefers meat because something about the virus craves protein, its why his muscles have gotten weaker too but the virus knows of they eat their host there wont be anymore.

Most zombies die because the virus starves and has to eat the host, but because when they eat wades cancer it just keeps coming back, and eventually the cancer would whoop the virus's ass due to sheer out numbering but I like to think that before things get better (much like cancer) it gets WAY worse.

So yes, for a year or two hes off an on, randomly being feral the first year but the second year only being feral about once a month for a short period of time.

He slowly is becoming better and better as the third year rolls around to the point where he hasn't been feral in awhile, slipping up only because he hasn't eaten in 2 days, in which Logan apologizes to him because it's winter and theres not much to spare.

Wade knows he gets fed last, and honestly isn't too upset about it. He's lucky to get food twice a day simply from how scarce it is. In the summer its a lot better, much more animals come out, theres a lot of plants, hell the girls started a garden before Logan and Wade even found them so often times they have food its just... not.. sustainable.. for wade.

Yes, he'll eat it. He'll eat it all, clear his entire plate like hes been starving for months but he needs the protein. He needs the high fat content. Its why he gets a lot of beans.

Laura had even managed to trade for a chicken that first year but uhhhhhh wade ate it.... just... mauled the poor thing. Ripped it to shreds. It made gabs cry because she already named the hen "Penny". Well. No more penny. And now Wade isnt allowed out back by the chicken coop no more.

Sometimes, still 3 years later, She'll catch wade crouched down and staring at them with such wide eyes, like a cat watching a fish in a bowl.

"What are you doin? Get away from there! You know better." She'll tell him and he'll whine at her a bit because once in a great while Logan will let him pet the chickens. He'll hold it tight and let Wade run his fingers on its back with the biggest grin. But after whats happened to penny? No sir. He wasnt allowed to pet them without Logan around.

He's just so... hungry. And there's nothing really anyone can do about it. Because of this though, Wade makes a great hunter and well... sometimes.. even in the third year half of the animal will be eaten by the time he brings it home but he does infact bring home many intact kills. It sucks though because bassically anything Wade puts his mouth on or licks immediately is thrown out and cant be eaten by the girls or logan, So yeah.. Logan gets frustrated when Wade comes home with a useless deer because wade already took a chunk out of it.

By the fourth year wade is allowed to sleep in the house nightly, is allowed to hug the girls each day, and can control himself enough to even have dinner with them as a family. Year 4s biggest issue right now is that he keeps trying to kiss them. Trying to kiss the girls cheeks, trying to kiss logan, and he keeps trying to share food, trying to give Gabs more vegetables off his plate when now her entire plate is ruined because of cross contamination.

From what they know is that this virus is similar to rabies because it stems from the same family in which feasts on proteins and fat but its evolved enough to understand that the host needs to be able to do things such as swallow and walk so they do not attack the spinal cord or the ceribellum which controls movements. Unlike rabies in who devoures the brain, rendering the person not to be able to swallow and mindlessly walks around looking for water especially in heavily dense human population with zero fear. (Seen in foxes the most)

The zombie virus does attack the Broca's area though in which controls speech. They attack other parts of the brain like memory logic and processing but because of how much cancer wade has it just keeps growing back.

Some early days of being bitten he will just stare at you like a dementia patient trying to remember who you are, other days he will run into a door and then just stand there like a sim who cant move because theres a plate on the ground.

It also is better for him to NOT get bit or licked again by other zombies so after year one Logan stops letting him eat other zombies, noticing that he gets worse afterwards because he becomes reinfected. This- Has limited wades food sources to human grade stuff, aka.... a lot less.. which causes more snappiness for a few days, but after 2 weeks he improves a lot.

By year 5 he has an entire week straight where he is unconscious, growling and struggling against the chains in the shed. Logan is sitting out side of the shed on a stump, crying because he dosn't know what happened or what to do. Wade was doing so good to the point he was starting not to worry about him biting anymore and now he was at square one.

The next day he sees that the noise has stopped and wade is pased out for another good week. Logan is almost relieved. He thinks Wades body finally gave up. Finally died.

He sobs that morning, Whispering thank yous to nothing and im sorrys. He dosnt even know why hes apologizing, he didnt do it. If he could put wade out of his misery he would have done it years ago, so this is a blessing.

Laura, much like her father, has very mixed feelings, crying behind closed doors but is glad. Finally he wouldn't hurt anymore.

Being barley 18 now, Gabs still sobs. Cries that its not fair that her papa died. Cries because he was so nice to her and now he was gone for good. She would never get to hug her papa ever again.

This was until...anyway.. when 8 days later theres a soft knock on the inside of the shed. Logan couldn't bare the idea of him coming back and hurting the girls so he sealed off the shed, being his husbands forever tomb.

At first he thinks its a cruel joke. "Gabby, quit! That's not funny-"

"What dad?"

But if gabs wasn't doing that, and lauras in the house..

Carefully, he unlocks it, peeking in to see Wade awkwardly standing here. Blinking.

"...hai..?"

"....hi...??"

"...urrhhm... yor wracked meh n hare.."

Logan swears hes gone insane, he could have SWORN his dead husband just said "You locked me in here" and "hi"

His skin looking better, less open gashes and healed up, still scarred up but no longer really decomposing.

This has to be a dream right?

"..no.. No. Ha! Heh.. no."

"...no rhat?"

He stares in disbelief, wondering how in gods name he was alive still. And talking? Like.. actually talking.. Tears run down his face faster then he can think, Gabby is already crying and quickly unchaining him. "You're the worst dad ever!! Yo-you know that!?" She sobs, angry from the hurt but also so glad that he was okay.

"Ar rnow... I Sarry."

"B-but you were gone- I... I saw you.. you were rotting and everything.."

"Rhat rRh- er... h-harppins." He smiles softly, worried just how much he upset his family, and is even more worried by how tight Logan held him and sobbed into his shoulder. "You fucking IDIOT!" He cries, breaking a few of his ribs.

"Aouch! Owr" he whines, turning his head from him and everything, not wanting any of his saliva to touch Logan despite him desperately trying to bury himself in his neck.

It wasn't much Laura seen her father like this, but she has a pretty similar reaction, complete with a slap and telling him to never die on them ever again.

"Nor pramases!"

Hello there. You must be crying by now. Dont worry so am I. If anyone wishes to draw zombie wade I would be extremely happy. Different stages would be so cool to see. I might do a little sketch if I have time. Anyway. Here. You will need these.

I dont CARE that it's November 9th and "Halloweens over" ITS MY BIRTHDAY MONTH ILL POST IF I WANT TOO

Anyway.

Thinking about apocolpse au.

Wade getting bitten by a zombie, Logan freaking out, Wade dying, and him coming back (Again)

"Didn't you just die?? I literally fucking burried you!!"

And wades like:

"Of course. Man, God REALLY hates you dosn't he?"

And he's bassically the same person except just saying, "Rahhah har ran re" (translation: I think the devil doesn't want me either)

"What?? Oh for fucks sake... tell me you're kidding.."

"Rah?" 🤔

"Great so now you stink more and you can't talk. Fucking lovely."

"Mmmmh..." 🥺 (would you still love me if I was a zombie?)

"*sighs, blushes and grumbles how insane this is and how much of a bad idea this is* Fine! Come on...."

"Raah!!" 😄

And sometimes his limbs fall off because I think it would be funny if you just saw him stop, turn around, pick up his arm and shove it back into place like a dislocated shoulder. (Marvel Magic)

But its very obvious that Wade is still consious and so logan leads him around, puts a leash on him, ties him up when he goes to sleep the first few nights so wade dosn't eat him, sometimes luring him with a piece of his thigh or telling him he'll feed him soon to make him behave.

The only thing about this resource wise is that it seems Wade is a bottomless pit, not ever able to get enough. It's like all the nutrients just pass right through him, so he can't get fed meals daily, but Logan will share at least one bite of his food. It makes Wade so happy and way more "wade like" than zombie.

Logan has learned that the hungrier Wade gets the worse it would be, snapping at logan a few times.

"Grr-"

"Aye! That's enough outta ya"

"GggRah!"

"Hey!! I said no! Bad! Bad wade!"

"Mmmh??"

"Bad!!"

"Mmh....rahah.."

"I forgive you. But stop trying to bite me. I feed you, don't I? I hold your hand and tell you that I love you?"

Wade is actually extremely friendly for a zombie (duh) and still yaps at logan except its nonsense. Logan tries hard to understand him and talk back.

He holds his hand sometimes, even lays next to him only to scold him if he gets too bitey. This is hard because wade already had a biting issue and seeing as he practically ate anything or anybody now it was more difficult.

"...aahh-"

"Wade- No."

"Ggr.. raahh"

"Wade! No! Bad."

"Mmmh..."

"Ill feed you tomarrow. Don't bite me mkay? You wanna hurt me?"

He shakes his head like a dog shaking off from a bath, or that ate a bee.

"Then don't bite me."

"Mmh? Mrah?"

"No. No kisses right now. Im still not even sure if thats safe.."

"Mmmh...🥺 ahrrah?"

"No, not even a tiny one."

"Mm...😔"

Until Logan grunts and pecks his hand. "There. Happy?"

"🙂‍↕️mh"

"Good."

Honestly Logan felt bad, pitited him. No matter what food he ate it wasnt enough substance to sustain him and sometimes Logan would wake up to find him eating a different zombie that made the mistake of trying to eat Logan.

You ever wake up in the morning, lose your zombie boyfriend, call for him only to walk outside and see him knawing on some poor chaps arm like a happy puppy who found a chicken leg? Logan has. Many times. And he wishes his phone would charge so he could take a picture of it but unfortunately theres no electricity in the post apocalypse world.

This being said Logan is like- THE perfect guy for apocalypse au because he can smell everything and hear anyone before they even get to you, he has better wilderness survival skills then anyone I know and he'll never NOT have a weapon on him because of his claws. The only downside is that he's tired easily, needs a lot of food, and would lowkey be withdrawing from his tabccao and alchool, therefore very moody.

"Stupid fucking apocalypse having to happen when im fucking alive!! Why can't I just NOT live through ONE major historical event! Is that too fucking much to ask? One damn decade where everything is fine and dandy and- WADE! Get your ass away from that!! It's radioactive!! For fucks sake!"

"Rahahrah?"

"NO!! You can not become Spiderman! That's not how that works!"

"Aawr..😔"

The whole thing is they're on a quest to find Laura and Gabby, because when everything went to shit, they were on a cabin trip and now Logans brain is itching because he dosn't know where his babies are and its driving him insane. Once he finds them, they're gonna shack up somewhere with food and animals to hunt, and hes gonna make a little shed outside for Wade to sleep because he'll kill him if he bites one of the girls.

He dosnt care that much about himself really and he hates himself deep down for not being able to trust wade anymore but even wade dosnt trust wade, sometimes wandering off on purpose, staying about 30 feet away from him at all times, growling and giving Logan that glazed over look of unconsiousness. The only good thing about this, though, is after he removes himself from the idea of hurting Logan (because if logaj were to become infected - HA! Your all fucked. Utterly fucked. The whole humanoid species would go extinct because he'd kill anything that moved) he feels more trusting of him and it's not uncommon for them to hug after either. Afterall Wade- Some how???- is still wade and is very affectionate and sensitive when its not returned.

This whole thing also makes him think worse about himself, kicking reflective objects or staring at himself in a shop window in utter shock and disgust with a face of 'thats me..?' While logans raiding the place for supplies.

Did you know zombies can cry? Well, Wade could. Not a lot, only able to get a bit of liquid from dehydration, but sometimes Logan will catch him just... sitting there.. crying. Upset with himself for being bit. Upset with himself for trying to bite logan all the time. Upset at how ugly he is. Upset that he's starving all the time. Upset that he can't even talk to anyone, and Logan just has to guess what he's saying 90% of the time. Bro is literally

When they DO find Laura and Gabby, the girls are doing great. Laura was going to blow wades head off until Gabby ran in the shot, hugging him instantly, only to be ripped away.

"Of course my dad is the weirdo married to a zombie." Laura grunts, but is secrelty happy that wade is still 'alive'

Gabby, being as young as she is, thinks it's so SICK that her dad is a zombie now, giggling when he talks to her and holding his hand. She's not allowed near him for long, and not at all by herself, but Gabby bassically becomes Wades number one supporter, defending him when he messes up and snaps at laura.

"He's just hungry!! He's not bad! It's not bad to be hungry!" She'll say. "You wouldn't kill me if I was hungry.." she tells her bigger, more survival oriented sister whos suggested putting wade out of his misery, for his own sake. "I tried that... he found me again 3 days later." Logan tells her with a pang in his chest. It had taken everything in him to kill him the first time, and sobbed himself to sleep the next 2 days. By the third when he noticed Wade following him from a distance he couldn't believe it.

Not even the apocalypse could keep them away from each other..

#zombie au #laura kinney #gabby kinney #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool #deadpool 3 #wolverine #deadclaws #zombies are bassically just rabid humans #with protein deficiency #apocalypse

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tickly-trashcan · 1 day ago

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Transformers: One Tickle Headcanons!

A/N: look away LOOK AWAY im still obsessed with these silly little robots and i cannot get them out of my head so i wrote this while avoiding my other responsibilities LOL i hope the few transformers fans on my blog enjoy and if you're not a transformers fan read anyway and join the fandom i promise its so fun!!! (ps i might do headcanons for the other continuities as i watch more... tfp fans unite)

Orion Pax

this stupid little guy i love him to bits

he is really ticklish and he is so silly about it

hes such a switch like. he doesnt mind being tickled at all i bet he probs loves the attention LOL but he LOVES tickling other bots like d-16 hehe

he's veeery tickly under his arms ESPECIALLY if you get the seams that connect his arm to his torso that will make him scream. get him there

hes ticklish in most of the normal cybertronian tickle spots as well (dont ask me what those are. they are up to interpretation!) but i think hes also got a pretty sensitive chassis (tummy...) and if you get the little seams that go across his chassis he will be GONEE

hes got a really loud laugh i think... one of those rapid fire squealy laughs yup yup

he squeaks! and gasps! and makes other funny noises! but only if you catch him off guard otherwise he's just laughing lol

he will put up a fight if someone tickles him!!! he will go down kicking and actually has a good shot at turning the tables LOL

d-16 has had those tables turned on him so fast but he never learns! poor dee

like i said before hes pretty chill about getting tickled but he thinks hes literally The tickler of all time

hes very confident about his ler skills bc d-16 is so ticklish its actually not fair but if you put him up against elita he would fold so fast

wiggles his digits at d-16 every fucking chance he gets somebody stop his ass before he kills dee

i think he and d-16 tickle each other a lot without it escalating to a tickle fight or full-on murder (orion is the murderer.)

like they poke each other! all the time!

they're good about not doing it on shift (most of the time... side eyes orion again) but as soon as they clock out its a free for all

orion is pretty teasy but not overly so if that makes sense? hes more taunty than teasy HAHA like he'll say to d-16 "lol why do i keep forgetting how ticklish you are" and dee is screaming

he does not tickle elita. ever. she scares him.

also he tried to tickle her once and she wrecked his ass so bad he could hardly stand up. d-16 never let him hear the end of it either

d-16 will still randomly bring it up like "hey pax remember when you tried to tickle elita haha that was so- AUGH!!" and then orion jumps him

D-16

DEE MY BELOVED GAAAAH

he is ridiculously ticklish because i said so. I don't make the rules. also im right d-16 is the biggest lee on this list

hes also a switch but hes so ticklish its hard to get away with tickling other bots like orion because one poke and the tables are turned!! orion is nice to him sometimes tho and lets him get in a few tickles mwahaha

im pushing my d-16 hip agenda. are yall seeing a pattern with me giving my favs ticklish hips ITS BECAUSE HIS HIPS ARE RIGHT THERE!!! anyways. d-16 has the most grabbable and tickleable hips and his hips should be grabbed and tickled until he screams

hes also tickly on his thighs! and his chassis (more tummy!!)

d-16 is one of those people who will try to keep his laugh in but he literally lasts two seconds before hes giggling. two seconds is actually a generous estimate tbh!

his LAUGH i feel it in my bones hes got massive giggles and its kind of high pitched and hes so embarrassed but its adorable and im so upset about it

like once hes laughing its a much deeper laugh but initially since hes trying to keep himself from laughing he just giggles frantically and its so cute bc its so pitchy

HE SNORTS

he snorts and he hates it but it is literally The best thing in the world and orion loves to tickle him until he snorts

for a week after orion learned what the word "speedrun" meant he tried different speedrun challenges with d-16 (how fast can i make him mention megatronus prime, etc.) and one of the days was "how fast can i make d-16 snort"

the answer is 1 minute and 34 seconds in earth time i aint doing the cybertronian equivalent. google is right there.

when he tickles other bots its crazy tho he can be MEANNN if he gets the chance

like he will taunt worse than orion and hes also a really good tickler methinks.. knows how and when to be more rough and when to be more gentle so he can really drive someone up the wall

once he got orion pinned face down and just. shoved his servos under orion's arms. had him screaming and begging but tbh orion probs deserved it!

d-16 has never tried to tickle elita and does not plan to. he will make fun of orion's attempt but he knows better

i think d-16 was also the first one of the gang to give bee a little tickle!!! got him giggling and actually got him to stop yapping a lil bit hehe but it was fun for everyone

B-127

I will tolerate absolutely ZERO bee slander alright if you beef with him you beef with me get off my blog

bee is almost as ticklish as d-16 but had absolutely no idea until he met orion, d-16, and elita. zero clue.

he knew what tickling was! he had tried to tickle himself before after seeing some bots in a tickle fight but hes never been tickled until d-16 poked at him a bit and he jumped 10 feet in the air

d-16 is really nice about tickling bee.... gives him soft tickles bc he knows hes not used to it and tickles him just enough to get him giggling IM SO UPSET

orion is also pretty nice about it but hes too teasy and bee gets embarrassed (also hes learning abt teases from orion. more on that later!)

i think he's really tickly on his chassis!!! most tickly spot for him definitely... all over too not just tummy part but his sides and hes also got tickly knees! watch out tho bc this dude kicks LOL

he has one of those cackly laughs but also has really sweet giggles and he DEF squeaks i dont make the rules

hes pretty shy about tickling others at first but because hes just not used to being around other bots!! hes been told before that hes too much so hes worried that tickling other bots is going to cause other bots to shut him down... BUT HE LEARNS ITS OK TO BE SILLY!!!

he sees orion tickling d-16 and starts yapping about how hes never been tickled and d-16 and orion tickle him a bit and its really sweet but he does NOT know how to react

"WHY AM I LAUGHING WHAT" "we're tickling you bee thats what happens" "OH THATS AWESOME HAHA IT FEELS FUNNY"

bee definitely likes being tickled but he also loves tickling the other bots... id say more lee in general but will tickle when he feels like its okay to!

hes normally yapping about something completely unrelated when hes tickling someone which is really funny but he learned from orion (BAD INFLUENCE!!!) how to tease people

so! now when he tickles other bots he does the really evil teasy stuff... it hasnt come back to bite orion yet but d-16 is suffering!

Elita-1

ahem... women... women women I LOVE ELITA

okay i think shes pretty tickly but not nearly as much as the rest of them... she can take a few pokes and barely smile but also can you even get a few pokes in before shes wrecking ur ass? not really!

shes 90% ler and 10% lee and yes i would definitely piss her off so she would tickle me who said that not me. i love women.

shes tickly on her knees and under her arms!! good luck getting her tho she is very squirmy if you manage to get her and even then she will fight BACK

she has a really bright and bubbly laugh if she gets got really good and it is so lovely and GAAAAH

she doesnt actually tickle other bots that often its mostly if people piss her off or try to tickle her that she goes after them mwahaha

which is why orion is such a frequent victim of her attacks

she is also one of those people who is either silent when shes tickling someone or is the MEANEST teaser on planet earth and bots like orion have experienced both and he cannot decide which option is worse

she has tickled d-16 and bee before but not nearly as bad as orion... he pisses her off so bad LOL i love their dynamic

shes actually so sweet with bee compared to d-16 and orion like okay elita we get it you have a favorite (hes my fav too i totally understand)

i want to talk more about her as a lee tho bc i feel like... she actually wouldnt mind being tickled that much its mostly reflex and its also cuz she feels like shes gotta be tough and being soft kinda goes against that orz

she keeps this mostly to herself but she does occasionally let bee tickle her more than she would let another bot because she knows hes just a Guy and is too busy yapping about other stuff while he tickles her to be like "wait why are you letting me tickle you rn"

her soft spot for bee... makes me so ill...

she also shows clear favoritism for bee when shes tickling him the teases are so much sillier and shes not as evil in general. for orion pax it is on sight

#transformers #transformers one #headcanons #tickle headcanons #orion pax #d 16 #b 127 #bumblebee #elita 1 #did not read this over #pure unfiltered rico cringe

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gouraminnow · 2 days ago

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Birds of a Feather

(Entirely platonic | SFW | Marco & OC) Marco the Phoenix is found by an orphaned harpy child that mistakes him for one of their own kind. It takes less than a day to commit to adoption- he really is taking after his father.

Warnings: Past world government/celestial dragon related incident, drugging/sedation. This is self indulgent fluff catered to me and exactly one other person she knows who she is. Hi <3

Marco had just wanted to stretch his wings. The winter island they’d all stopped at was beautiful- sloping hills, valleys and deep forests blanketed in thick snow, with the soft orange lights of the small town that had only recently sprung up. They weren’t going to be here very long- at least they didn’t plan on it. Apparently, there were some nice hot springs in more remote areas, and some of the others had asked him to see if he spotted them on his flight. Whether or not his brothers actually wished to commit to the hike when there was booze to be had in town was another matter, but he enjoyed the airtime anyway. The clear wintery skies were quiet and refreshing.

Cresting over a hill and peering down into a valley, he spots the stacked hot spring pools overlapping like fish scales.

But he also spotted something else.

When he swooped lower to get a look at the layered pools of the springs, he also noticed a small white shape- scampering through underbrush, between trees, trying to keep up with him despite being grounded. He can’t get a good look from up here- but whatever it is, it’s awfully little and makes no attempts to conceal itself. He dips again, going lower in an attempt to catch a glimpse of this thing- aiming for a clearing between some pools up ahead, he turns in a wide arc, flaring his wings out to catch the frigid air and slow his descent. He kicks up a healthy plume of snow when he lands, and takes a second to shake himself off. He stands still, arms still transformed into wings as he searches for any movement- though he doesn’t have to wait long. Something white and fluffy with bits of gray and black darts right toward him with a loud trill. He steps to the side, the tiny thing skidding right past him with an undignified squawk.

The fluffy mess shakes itself off, and he’s met with the confused face of… some sort of little bird creature. It can’t be much taller than his mid-thigh. It wears no clothes, but it does have a leather shoulder bag. It’s covered from head to taloned toe in thick, downy feathers. It has wings instead of arms, but longer, more dextrous phalanges form three functional fingers at each wrist. Little black talons poke through a generous amount of unkempt plumage at both the feet and pseudo-hands, and the face- large, black eyes rimmed with orange, with bright blue circular markings on the cheeks, framed by a wild mane of… well, feathers, but it takes the place of hair. Two little tufts stick out on top of its head, not unlike the “ears” of a great-horned owl. They’re covered in gray and black stripes and speckles- impressive camouflage. He’s sure if the little beast had actually tried to be stealthy, he never would have noticed them.

But it wasn’t. It was dead-set on getting his attention. It didn’t take a genius to be able to guess that it mistook him for its own kind. He furrows his brow, watching it shake itself off and look back up at him, releasing a quizzical chirp. His mouth presses into a firm line. This was… probably a harpy chick. While harpies were typically depicted with bare faces and torsos, this was a cold environment. Probably just a climate-specific adaptation- or maybe they’re completely feathered as babies and they’ll lose coverage as they age. It chirps at him again, taking a tentative step forward, and he sighs. He’s not sure what to do here. He’s unfamiliar with whatever this species is, and he doesn’t want to inadvertently upset some territorial parents. While the little one seems to think he’s one of them, it’s entirely possible the adults would know better. He looks around- scanning the treeline, the clearing, the sky- and finding no hint of any other presence, he turns back to the creature before him, who has been inching closer and closer. He holds their gaze for a moment. “Where’d you come from, little one?”

They blink up at him. One of their little ear tufts twitches.

“... Can you understand me at all?” He tries.

They tilt their head at him, a little chrrr chrrr chrrr sound bubbling out of their throat.

Inconclusive, but probably not.

With a low chuckle, he crouches down- and that’s when they strike. They launch themselves forward, tackling Marco with a shrill cry. “Woah there,” he says as they cling to his coat, little feet scrabbling frantically as they struggle to get themselves up on top of his bent legs, sitting themselves right down on his lap. They’re not shy at all about getting settled, curling up and nuzzling his chest with a sweet trill. Marco huffs. “Well, aren’t you affectionate, yoi?” he muses, shifting his wings back into arms. Gently, he wraps an arm around the creature, supporting their weight by pressing them against his chest as he sits down cross-legged, settling them back into his lap.

They don’t really react, just continuing to nuzzle against the man. They’re awfully happy to be here, aren’t they? His hands run through the downy, speckled feathers on their back and his mouth presses into a firm line. Checking them over, he finally realizes just how dirty and unkempt they are- specifically in spots they wouldn’t be able to reach on their own. There’s an uninterrupted strip of grimy, disheveled feathers interspersed with the waxy sheaths of developing pin feathers down their spine- when he pulls his hand away, there’s a thin layer of grime on his fingertips.

“... Who’s taking care of you, kiddo?” He murmurs, only met with the happy, idle twittering of the creature in his lap. “You’re real excited to see me huh…” He’s not sure what to do. They very well could be an orphan, or even a case of a hatchling being ejected from the nest by a stronger sibling. Or they could just be very, very lost. Gently, he pushes the creature’s shoulders back, so they can look each other in the face. “Blink three times if you understand me,” he says, voice firm. They just stare, tilting their head a little bit. Marco sighs. The language barrier is a problem. He takes a second to think, letting the kid snuggle up again. How much this creature takes after regular birds was unknown but some things could be inferred. The eagerness with which they latched onto him suggested a social species- the state of their feathers suggesting flock members assisted each other in grooming. At least at this age, anyway. If this creature had parents, he needed to figure out how to locate them- but as of right now, he had no way of telling if that was the case or not.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when the creature begins to rummage through their little bag- producing what looks like two small, dried pieces of meat and then holding one up to his face. They chirp, smiling brightly, practically shoving it against his chin. He looks at the creature's wide eyes, then at the shriveled, burnt looking scrap they’re offering. When he doesn’t accept it immediately, their little face scrunches up, mouth settling into a pout. They pull away, maintaining eye contact, and pop one into their mouth. They make a loud, exaggerated display of chewing(with their mouth closed, thankfully) and swallowing with an audible gulp. Marco huffs, a lazy smile spreading across his face. As unappetizing as it looks, he can smell the char on it, so at least it's been thoroughly sterilized at this point. Not that contaminants were something he worried much about with his particular devil fruit, but some things are just a matter of principle. Dubious meat is dubious. But the display was awfully cute, and he’d hate to disappoint them, so when they slowly hold it out to him again, he plucks it from their talons and swallows it whole. He does briefly taste the char he suspected, but the big grin from the hatchling is worth it.

He ruffles their hair, and they eagerly lean into the gesture. But when he tries to pull away, they grab onto his hand, hopping to their feet and gently trying to tug him along with them. “Oh? Got something to show me?” He gets a series of chirps in response, and they keep tugging. Well, he’s got plenty of time. Might as well see where they want to take him- it's probably his best bet at answering some of his questions.

Marco casually follows behind the little bird as they lead him through the snow. He’d gotten them to let go of his hand- they were so short he had to awkwardly bend down in order for them to reach it, and walking like that was very uncomfortable. At one point during their little walk, they had turned back to him and twittered with a quizzical tilt to their head, before flaring their wings out. He raised a brow, and they just repeated the gesture. “Sorry, kiddo, not sure I get what you mean…” they huff, stomping their little feet- before pointing to him and flaring their wings out a third time. A light goes off in his head. Ah, that’s what it is, huh? With a dramatic flourish of blue flame, his arms bloom into wings. He flares them just like they had, flapping a couple times for good measure- disturbing the pristine snow around the two of them in a ten-foot radius. He seems to have gotten it right- they cheer loudly, hopping up and down and twirling in a circle. He can’t help but soften at the sight- he wasn’t a conceited man, but appealing to his ego certainly didn’t hurt. After the little display he just followed along, listening to them chirp and warble endlessly. They may not understand each other, but there was no doubt they were a chatterbox.

It isn’t long before they come upon a sort of crevice between two tall pools, hidden away by some simple foliage. The little one slips right in, but it’s a bit of a tight squeeze for Marco. The first thing he notices is just how warm it is in the little cave. Makes sense to him- perfect place to make a den. The walls are a soft, reddish brown, working with the pleasant warmth to directly contrast the bitter chill outside. There are a few old wooden crates and cracked, scavenged pottery shoved against the walls of the cavern- the former of which store a variety of pilfered knicknacks, most notably packs of crayons and paints along with what looks like a coarsely-bristled brush tied to a long stick. There’s a nest further in, made of loose furs and old rags primarily- but just beyond that, on the far wall, countless drawings have been pinned up, rows of wobbly child-like sketches displayed right next to their bed. Stepping further, eyes gradually adjusting, he notices something else:

Tally marks.

Hundreds of them- tiny, shallow tick marks etched into every wall of the cave, reaching only a little higher than his knee. Something in him twists, as he crouches down to run his fingers against the clumsily scratched lines. These ones are organized in groups of seven, rather than five.

He hears another trill, the rustling of papers- and he looks back to see the little one bounding toward him, holding a drawing up above their head with a grin. They shove the paper towards him with an excited cry, earning a chuckle from the man, who graciously accepts it, raising the yellowed material up for a closer look. He goes still, a tightness blooming in his chest. In a childish crayon scrawl, the colors bleeding past the wobbly outlines, are three figures. One is the child standing before him, who is currently excitedly hopping from foot to foot in silent anticipation. They draw themselves as little more than a speckled puffball with big eyes, blue cheeks and their distinct ear tufts. The second figure is bigger, standing to the left of the child. The stripes on this figure are darker, with some browns mixed in with the black and gray stripes. The markings are similar to the child’s, with the blue cheeks and orange-rimmed eyes, but with a few key differences- namely the large tail feathers, black tipped wings and feet, with a hint of that same blue on the undersides of the wings.The drawing is actually… really good, for a kid- there’s an impressive amount of detail put into recreating the distinct markings of their family.

The third figure… confirms some of his suspicions. It’s slightly smaller than the second, but still larger than the child. And the plumage of this adult is primarily a bright, brilliant blue, save for white patches on the belly and face. There’s a tightness in his chest as he holds the paper, eyes flitting to the ever-hopeful face of the child. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. If these harpies matched up with the same types of sexual dimorphism as many bird species, the brightly colored ones are probably the males. This is clearly a family portrait, but the little one’s parents are nowhere to be seen. And the tally marks on the wall don’t reach very high, nor do the drawings they’ve hung up- if they had someone older looking after them, more of that wallspace would probably be utilized. Do they think he’s just another harpy, or their dad specifically? Probably not- if they were able to draw out the markings their parents had, then they’re probably able to see the difference.

“Kid…” he starts, taking a step forward and crouching down. They seem to view this as an invitation, because just like last time, they launch forward and flail their way onto his lap. He sighs, circling an arm around their waist and standing back up. They barely weigh anything at all. He wonders if their bones are hollow.

Now carrying the child, he approaches the wall featuring the rest of the drawings. His steps reverberate around the small cavern, the harpy purring against his chest. He steps into their makeshift nest, settling down in the various pelts, blankets and cushions. It smells a little musty, truthfully… reminds him of the few times he’d entered Ace’s room.

He shakes the thought out of his head, instead focusing on the drawings the little one had made. It’s… a lot of drawings of other Harpies, some scribbly mountains and trees… one seems to depict a gathering of twelve, with a bonfire in the middle and the bird people taking turns roasting nondescript lumps on sticks. He’s sure it’s meant to be meat, as two of them do almost look like rabbit silhouettes. Another depicts the child in his lap playing in the springs with other harpy children- all drawn with sweet little smiles and those big, black dot eyes. All the drawings they’ve pinned to the cave wall are happy scenes with a loving flock that is nowhere to be seen. Many figures celebrating, playing together, hunting and cooking game… none depict a Harpy by itself, all of them groups of at least three. Going off of these, he was right in suspecting they’re part of a highly social species, raised as part of a crowded and attentive flock. Abandonment seems out of the question if these idyllic little pictures are to be believed- but regardless of the circumstances behind their isolation, this was clearly some sort of desperate coping mechanism. Hanging pictures of the family they missed dearly, right by where they sleep? Examining another drawing of adult harpies fending off some large, fearsome thing- mostly black scribbles, big sharp teeth and eyes- while the chicks watch from behind them- the idea of abandonment at the talons of these bird-folk feels like nonsense. He doesn’t want to say anything for sure when all he has to go off are these pictures, but some deep, small but sharp sting of instinct within him makes the suggestion of neglect feel utterly wrong. Something worse had happened, the phoenix was all but certain. His mouth presses into a thin line, and he can’t help but hold the poor kid a little tighter.

They’re completely oblivious to the inner turmoil welling up inside him, interpreting the slight squeeze as deliberate affection. Their eyelids droop and their feathers puff up as they settle against his warmth. It isn’t long at all before they’re snoring softly in his lap… Marco sighs, idly petting the little bird monster as they doze. “You make it real hard not to get attached, huh, yoi…” He mumbles, gently scratching their chin. Hmm. He wants to check something. Thinking back to their little family portrait, he leans them back and gently unfurls one of their arm-wings. Most of the feathers are still soft and downy, but he catches hints of those iridescent blue patches the mother in the drawing had right under her armpits. Checking their wings, gently detangling as he goes, he catches no further glimpses of those vibrant pinfeathers, and concludes that the child is most likely female- though he is unfamiliar with the child’s age and how quickly their species develops, so he wouldn’t know for sure until all the baby feathers were gone. Judging by the little blue sprigs, it wouldn’t be long-

Marco blinks, stopping his train of thought. When had he started thinking as if this kid was going to live with him? He hadn’t even known them for a day. Suspicious circumstances and heartstring-pulling be damned, it’s far too early to be acting this way. The ideal way this all turns out is that their real family is located, and they’re left with their kind. In the best-case scenario, he’d never even see their adult plumage, having sailed on with his family after reuniting the child with their own. If he did take them with him, he would have to figure out their specific needs on the fly, such as diet, exercise, hygiene, sleeping habits… though at least the size of the crew was unlikely to bother them once they’d integrated, if the large social groups in their artwork were anything to go by.

Marco sighs. It’s simple- he just needs to know more. And now is the perfect time, seeing as the little one is sleeping like… well, a baby. He sits up, hands raising to their shoulders to gently pry them off from where their claws dig in to the fabric of his coat- and god is the little puffball tiny, one splayed hand covering the width of their speckled back- but as soon as he tries to pull them away, he hears a sleepy little whine and their three-fingered hands bunch up the wool. He frowns- taking in the way their eyes move behind their lids, and the drooping of their ear-tufts. Ugh. Damnit, they’re far too cute for their own good.

With an exaggeratedly resigned sigh, he pulls them back in, the little one cooing contentedly as they snuggle back into the warmth of his chest. He takes a second to adjust, moving the sleeping chick up to a more comfortable position before swinging his legs over the nest’s edge and standing up. He'll just... carry them while he has a look around, since they're so attached. So, with the little chick tucked against his chest with one arm, he begins his search. Starting with the wooden crates off to the side, he’s careful- sinking into a crouch and resting the harpy in the gap between his chest and the tops of his thighs. He picks through- this one is primarily art supplies, as he observed before. Packs of wax crayons dumped into a smaller box, paintbrushes- most in poor condition, he observes, the chipped handle of one resting against his palm as his thumb rubs over the frazzled, uneven bristles spiking outward. There’s a ripped canvas with a broken frame slotted into the box- when he goes to lift it, some chalk falls from where it had likely been resting on the wooden struts. The soft clatter makes the hatchling twitch, but nothing else. There are a few paint pots at the bottom as well, but they’re mostly empty or dried out. Curiously, he finds a couple small rectangular boxes with hinged lids as well, no bigger than his palms. They’re made of a thin, light colored wood and they remind him of Izo’s makeup- a thought that proves its merit when he flips the lid up to reveal the brightly colored chalky substance they have packed away inside. This one has three colors- yellow, orange, and red, and there’s a small mirror tucked into the underside of the lid. Snapping it closed, he opens the other- a sky blue, a darker cobalt pigment, and a deep purple. Hmm. He puts the palettes back where he found them, and turns his attention to the sleeping kid again. Leaning back, he rubs a thumb against the bright blue cheek spot, then pulls it away. Nothing. Those markings were natural, then. Well, it was left at the bottom of the box. If it was something they used with any regularity it would’ve been easier to reach. But the idea of birdfolk adding a little extra pigment to their plumage is one that tickles him.

He doesn’t find much else of note. He examines the brush on a stick he had seen earlier, finds some tools such as knives and scissors. One box has netting, rope, and fishing line- a broken rod laying at the bottom in two pieces. There’s a hole in the floor closer to the entrance of the cave, covered with an old pot lid- when he opens it, he finds a rabbit, two wrapped fish, and a handful of berries in a cheesecloth resting in a bed of snow.

But then, looking back to the inside of the cave, his eyes catch something he’d missed, somehow. Peeking out from under the nest, are more scraps of paper- the crinkled, triangular corners overlapping each other. More drawings… moving back toward the nest, he crouches slowly, careful with the child as usual. Reaching out, he tugs the crinkled papers out from under the furs they’ve been hidden under-

His heart leaps into his throat. His hand, tightening its grip, further crumpling the thin material.

The first picture is of a ship bearing the familiar emblem of the world government, scribbled navy blue and white trim topped by the golden figurehead all world noble ships have. He doesn’t need to look at the rest to know this poor child really is alone. The rest of the hidden drawings, pulled out from where they’ve been shoved and unfolded by his deft hand, are devastating- not just because of the contents. All of them less precise, more frantically drawn, indents or even tears where the kid had applied too much pressure while coloring. Tiny pinprick stains of water damage, if he looks close enough. One drawing is just a large fire. In another, adults and children alike trapped under nets. One shows suited men shooting some of the creatures as the ridiculous bubble-headed celestial dragon oversees. And there was yet another, depicting the familiar bright blue-plumed male flying away with the baby in his talons, little dots as tears falling from their eyes.

No wonder they were so happy to see him. No wonder they could overlook the glaring differences between him and their own kind.

The little one shifts, and Marco realizes how hard he’s breathing. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he takes a moment to calm himself, for their sake- but it’s not easy. Well. He’d already wanted to take the little one with him. He didn’t see a world where Oyaji would say no, especially not once Marco told him everything. And if anyone else had an issue (though he doubted anyone would, other than the typical rational concerns when it comes to having a small child on a pirate ship), they would just have to deal with it. Marco was a commander, he did what he wanted.

But of course, he still has questions. In the brief time they’d spent in town, nobody had made any mention of harpies. He knows the small village is a very recent development- four years old, if he remembered right- is it possible that its presence is younger than the tragedy that befell the birdfolk? When visiting a new place with his family, local urban legends were quickly picked up on. Proud, hardworking folk like these often want others to be impressed with the places they call home- that’s why they’d put so much emphasis on the springs. It seemed odd that nobody had mentioned that this island once contained at least one whole flock of mythical creatures.

But looking at all the tally marks on the walls, the small, clustered groups of seven, seven, seven- he hadn’t counted them, but over four years of living alone looked very plausible if he assumed the kid counted accurately. Did… the kid know there was a human settlement? He would assume they did, but then again… the distance is a lot for someone so small. He only spotted the remote cluster of pools from the air, before he swooped down for a closer look. And all of their things look old, held together through improvised fixes- nothing new that would suggest they had stolen from town. Though if they did know of its presence, it was possible they avoided it on purpose. They only wanted Marco’s attention because he was a giant blue bird. They might not differentiate between world nobles and humans in general. With that in mind, he should be cautious with crew introductions.

Well, regardless of the kid’s relations (or lack thereof) with the other locals, they were coming with him. As well as he can using one hand, he gingerly stacks the previously hidden artwork, tapping it against the ground to line them up. He wishes he had some sort of folder… tucking them into his coat will have to do for now, so he slowly leans them back- prying their little fingers out of the grip they hold so he can unbutton the front enough to slide the papers in. Something to show the others- some sympathy for his cause wouldn’t hurt.

And with that, he lets himself partially transform- Wings, feet, tailfeathers. with a flourish of healing fire- that he washes over the child, just in case. She blinks, yawning- and he watches the flickering of his own flames in their dark, glassy eyes as they widen. They smile up at him with a chirp, and he returns it. “Have a nice nap, little one?” He croons. “How would you like to go on a little flight with me, yoi?” They twitter up at him, feathers puffing up. He sets them down on the floor- which they whine about, earning a laugh from him. He shifts from foot to foot before holding one up and making a grabbing motion with his talons. They perk right up- and sprint outside. Marco blinks, moving after them and squeezing himself through the jagged opening to their little hideout. That’s something he wasn’t looking forward to when he came back to pack up their belongings.

Out in the snow, the hatchling calls out to him- they’ve laid down on their belly, sinking into the powdery substance. He’s amused and impressed they got the message so fast. He thought he’d have to take a leaf out of their book and draw a picture of himself carrying them away. He approaches slowly, holding out one foot again- and when she doesn’t move, he slowly, gingerly wraps his talons around their midsection, the first of his three front toes resting just under the armpit. He tests his grip first, lifting them up while balancing on the other foot, which earns a giggle from them. It feels secure enough, and they don't seem uncomfortable. So using his free foot to propel himself upward, he flaps once, twice, and they’re off- Marco smiling widely at the excited trill they let out. While a little awkward to carry, they’re tiny and weigh nothing to him. They soar over the trees, and Marco climbs higher- even through the sound of the air rushing past his ears, he doesn’t miss the little gasp that escapes them once he’s gotten enough air to reveal the pinks and oranges of a horizon at sunset.

It doesn’t take long. His jaw clenches when he can feel their little body growing more and more tense, the closer he gets to the Moby Dick. When he begins his descent towards the deck, Oyaji and a few others in view- they emit a loud, piercing whine, starting to wriggle. He pulls up, wings flaring out to slow himself, and sticks the landing on one foot, balancing himself before gently setting the kid down with the other. They immediately latch onto Marco’s legs, feathers bristling in agitation. Whitebeard raises a brow, leaning forward in his seat. He’s still shirtless, despite the weather. “Marco,” he rumbles out in greeting. “What’s this you’ve brought to us?” He asks, gesturing to the cowering child clinging to Marco’s legs.

Some of the others have started to gather around, wanting to see what this is about. Marco sighs. First, he reaches into his coat for the bundle of artwork. “Tate, would you mind looking over these with Oyaji?” He asks, extending his arm to the nurse, who approaches slowly. He hands them off to the nurse, who is thankfully dressed for the weather unlike his father, and crouches down to try and dislodge the kid. They whine at him when he grips them by the shoulders, peeling them off of him to the amusement of his brothers. He flashes a quick glare to the men and their chuckling quiets down. “Come on kid, you’re fine, yoi” he chides, opting to lift them into his arms. They bury their face in his chest as he sits them on one arm, turning the other into a wing which he carefully folds around their trembling body. Hopefully, hiding them from view gives them a little security.

He looks back up to Tate, and to Oyaji- he’s leaning over her shoulder as the blonde woman examines each childish drawing, her face growing more troubled with each one. Oyaji keeps the same stony expression the entire time, save for the subtle narrowing of his father’s eyes. “This one spotted me flying, Oyaji. Chased after me from the ground.” He says, watching his old man’s eyes raise to meet his own. “... They think I’m one of them. They’ve been alone for a real long time, yoi. What you’ve got right there, that’s what happened to the rest.”

“These… these are awful,” Tate breathes, still fixated on the foreboding artwork. Marco nods, mouth set in a firm line.

“Hmph. So you’re saying we’re keeping them, I take it?” the old man says, plucking one of the drawings from Tate’s hands and leaning back to examine it closer.

Marco nods. “My responsibility, of course. The kiddo’s already… attached.” He sighs, feeling them shift against his chest. “They don’t speak any… human languages. I have no way of telling them that I am not what they think I am, yoi.”

An uncomfortable silence settles over the deck, Whitebeard’s stern gaze sinking to the wing concealing the tiny creature. “And you are certain there are no others of their kind left here?” He asks, the unspoken meaning clear. He is not unsympathetic- it’s the same thought Marco had. It would be better to reunite them with their species, if possible.

Marco nods once again. “They’ve been living in a small cave, and they’ve scratched hundreds of tally marks into the walls. I didn’t count, but it’s been years, yoi. I think…” he sighs, pausing for a second. “None of the townsfolk said anything about bird people. I think this event predates the existence of the village, and this child has managed to remain hidden all this time, yoi.”

His father regards him from a moment, a warmth in his eyes few others would have recognized. “Let me get a look at them. Only for a moment.” Marco nods, retracting his wing. The little one sits with their face buried in his chest, trembling. He nudges them. They whine. He sighs, leaning them back, patting their head with his free hand and gesturing to Whitebeard. They hesitantly turn their head, and he feels them tense when they meet eyes with the Yonko. The towering man gives them a small smile, but it doesn’t help much. They recoil into Marco, pitchy squeak leaving their throat. The Phoenix sighs, letting them latch onto him and covering them from view once more. “Well, that’s it, then.” Whitebeard grunts. “What d’you need?”

“Somebody find Thatch- I need him to whip something up for ‘em. Some meat, add a sedative- I’m going back to their little hideaway to pack their things while they sleep.”

Thatch is located, and is reportedly happy to assist. Marco had moved the little beast to his own room, since being around so many humans all of a sudden had utterly terrified the poor thing.He swaddles them in blankets, and intends to leave them in bed- but his face softens when a hand shoots out to cling to him once more. He sighs at the little one glaring at him from the bundle of fabric. “I know, I know,” he coos. “I wish you understood me,” he laments, lifting their swaddled form into his arms. “But this is a good thing, yoi. We’re going to take care of you.” He makes his way over to his desk, opting to at least read over some reports while he waits for Thatch. Settling the child in his lap, he picks up some papers and leans back.

A bit of guilt creeps up the back of his throat- the poor thing is still trembling. They aren’t being deliberately affectionate like they were before- no chirping, no squeaking, no nuzzling. Just laying where he put them. He sighs, using his free hand to rub their back. They don’t do anything, other than shift slightly.

It doesn’t take long before he hears three knocks at his door- making the kid flinch. “It’s alright,” he murmurs, patting them softly before speaking up louder. “Come in.” Thatch enters, carrying a covered platter on one hand.

“Hey, Marco!” the chef beams, strutting inside and setting the food down on the little corner table. The child clings to Marco’s chest tighter, at the sound of his voice. “Heard the big news- fatherhood is gonna look great on you, papa bird~” he teases in a sing-song voice. Marco rolls his eyes, adjusting the kid and standing up to face his crewmate. Thatch’s face softens when his eyes fall onto the bundle in Marco’s arms. “Aw. Still upset, huh?” He says, considerably more subdued now.

“Yeah,” he affirms, patting the bundled creature on the top of the head. “Can’t blame the poor kid- they don’t understand a word we say, so it’s not like I can do much to reassure them, yoi.”

Thatch sighs. “Well, I got the message,” he says, one hand on his hip as he removes the lid with a flourish. The child doesn’t move, but Marco can hear them sniffing. Thatch prepared various types of meat, cut into thin strips, arranged almost like a charcuterie board. There’s a peeled orange and some mixed berries as well. “I’ve got some cured meats, fruits, and I grilled a bit of pork- that’s what's got the sedative in it. Thought about doing chicken, too, but y’know…” He gestures vaguely, and Marco snorts with a shake of his head.

“Thanks, Thatch. And don’t leave just yet, alright?” He says, sliding into a chair. Thatch pulls up one of his own right across from them.

“Don’t have to tell me twice. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of ‘em, anyway. Everyone up top is gossiping.” He smiles, leaning back and propping a foot up on the opposing knee.

Marco returns the smile. “It’s your lucky day, then. You’ll be the first crewmate I introduce, yoi.” If he wants the kid to learn that the others won’t hurt them, the chef is a good place to start. He pries their little talons out of his shirt, shushing the undignified whine the action draws from them. He pulls the blanket down so it’s bunched around their waist, and spins them in his lap to face the tray of food. Thatch’s eyes widen, and a soft gasp falls from his lips.

The kid regards him warily, leaning back against Marco’s chest. Their ear tufts are drooping back, and their talons find their way to the arm around their waist. “Hey there, little one. Oh, aren’t you cute?” Thatch greets, offering a small wave and a reassuring smile. “I heard all those brutes upstairs gave you a scare, huh? Poor thing,” he coos, before pushing the platter closer. They tense, but lean forward, sniffing the air. “Go ahead, kiddo, all yours.”

The hatchling is hesitant. Their little hands rise from Marco’s forearm, and both men watch their fists clench and unclench. When they turn back to look at Marco, their little face is scrunched up in worry- even if he can’t see their eyebrows through their thick, messy hair, he can tell they’re drawn tight. He gives them a relaxed smile, and slowly reaches out to pluck a piece of salami off of the plate. He makes sure they’re looking when he eats it, chewing slowly. He nods to Thatch. “You eat something too, yoi,” he says. The other man nods, opting for an orange slice. The kid’s little ear tufts perk up, just a little, and they lean forward. Some of the apprehension is beginning to melt away, but they still aren’t going for it. They look nervously back and forth between both men, head swiveling on their little neck. So Marco reaches out again- another piece of meat in his hand, holding it to their mouth as they had done to him. Slowly, they lean forward, biting the edge, and Marco lets go. It doesn’t even take a full second for the kid to realize how good it tastes, snapping it up instantly. They chew, swallow, lick their lips, go to reach for another-

And they freeze, just shy of touching the food. Marco could groan, but he doesn’t. Thatch gives the kid a nod, and when they look back to Marco, he does the same. Their dark glassy eyes go wide for a second. They pick up a blackberry, looking at both men for any reaction before eating it. This repeats a couple of times before they finally give in and start eating like the damn place is on fire, much to Thatch’s delight. The cured meats and fruits are snapped up in a flash, the thin prosciutto torn to shreds as they indulge. The pork is a bit chewier, taking them a little longer, but they eat everything before the drug even starts to set in. They’re licking their talons clean when Thatch pulls the platter back, and stands up. “Well, that was impressive,” he muses, smiling down at the child. They don’t cower against Marco anymore, instead leaning forward to chirp quizzically at the tall man. “Yep, I’m talkin’ to you, honey,” he laughs. “You’ll give Ace a run for his money, I know it.”

“Hope so. All of this is fluff, they’re a scrawny little thing underneath, yoi” Marco chuckles, rubbing the top of their head, relaxing when they lean up into his touch again. He was right. Food is a good way to help most creatures feel secure.

“What do you need hope for? You know I won’t disappoint! They certainly seemed to like it, didn’t they? Oh, just look at them,” Thatch coos, watching as their eyes squint in satisfaction.

The two speak a little longer, Thatch telling Marco that word had spread quickly. Oyaji had already given them a nickname, referring to them as “Pipsqueak” and sternly instructing his sons to leave them be for now. Marco told Thatch more about his encounter in turn- the way they’d exuberantly tackled him, the cave, the way the happy drawings had been pinned up by their bed- that particular detail had him dramatically slapping a hand over his heart. “Sent off to find some hot springs, and you come back with an orphan. You’re really taking after the old man, Marco.” He says with a sly smile. It doesn’t take too long for the kid to start nodding off- after around five minutes, there’s a big yawn, and they’re snuggling up to Marco again. He wraps an arm around them, gently preening their wings with his fingers. The speckled little creature all but melts against his chest.

“I think that’s your cue to get going, yoi,” he says.

Thatch sighs, dramatically slapping his hand over his heart. “So it is… how cruel.”

“Oh don’t pout about it, yoi. I actually let you see ‘em didn’t I? And you’ll be bringing them plenty more meals, I’m sure.”

“Of course I will! I’m aiming for the title of Favorite Uncle, after all!”

“You’ll have some stiff competition, yoi.”

“I’m a chef, my dear brother,” Thatch beams, spreading his arms. “Kids love food. Everybody loves food. I like my odds.”

Marco wouldn’t say it, but he did, too. Instead he just smiles, lifting the child into his arms. They rub a blue cheek against his chest, eyelids fluttering. “Yeah, yeah. Now go, yoi. Shoo. I’m sure I’ll be up shortly.” Thatch chuckles, gazing tenderly at the child before shaking his head. As his weathered hand grips the brass door handle, he shoots his brother a knowing smirk.

“You sure you’ll be back in time for them to wake up? I’m a busy man, but I’d be happy to keep an eye on-”

“I said shoo, yoi! Get on with it!”

Thatch laughs, the door swinging closed behind him with a creak. Marco sighs, shaking his head, but he’s still smiling. Turning his attention back to the kid, he holds them closer and stands up from his seat. He listens to their soft breathing, trying not to let the patch of drool seeping through his shirt bother him. He sets them down on the bed, carefully unwrapping the blanket to tuck them in properly. He lays them against the pillow, huffing at their drowsy face, their mouth still hanging open. He pulls the blanket up to their chin, patting them on the head. They nuzzle into his pillow, sigh, and quickly slip into slumber.

He stays for a moment, warm hand resting on top of their head as they doze. “Big day for you hmm?” He muses. It didn’t take long at all for him to commit to this, did it? He wishes they understood him. That he didn’t have to do things like this. But at the very least, his intentions were altruistic, and the child suspected nothing. And when they woke up, they’d have all their drawings hung up within view of their new nest.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #marco the phoenix #Marco mother hen moments #He's a dad now #you could make equal arguments for whether he adopts the kid or the kid adopts him honestly #thank you to hannanbarberra162 once again for talking about baby birds with me :)

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clockwork-carstairs · 13 hours ago

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“You made yourself a different person than the one I loved” – on Kit’s letter, his projections & idea of Ty

aka where i try to make sense of kit’s letter in the context of who ty was to him. basically i think that understanding that kit may not have had an accurate image of ty in his head helps to contextualise why kit believes the things he does, regardless of whether they’re fair to ty or not. it makes more sense reading lines like:

“in all the world, kit had never met anyone he believed to be so incapable of evil”

“all his energy had gone into ty, all his devotion and hopes for the future”

because you can see so clearly how much kit was projecting onto ty. ty, more than a friend—or whatever you might call it—was also the personification of this new world and all it meant for kit. kit saw him as this overwhelming force of good, beautiful as an angel, someone who not only wouldn’t do evil but was “incapable” of it.

so you can kind of see why everything was lost for kit once ty went through with the necromancy: because by doing so he was breaking the image kit had of him. of ty as a saviour of sorts from kit’s previous life, the person who convinced him to stay, who made kit feel like he was really a part of something, something magical and exclusive that not everyone got to be.

further evidenced by other lines:

“he had been too fixated on losing ty to tell him what he needed to hear” -> kit knows he should have told ty much sooner how he really felt about the situation. kit knows he deflected and in various ways lied to ty about trying to bring livvy back. but kit had wanted to stay by ty’s side, stay included in ty’s plans, more than his desire to tell ty the truth that he hated the idea.

“you made yourself a different person than the one i loved” -> ty as a person being shaped by kit’s projections of all his hopes and dreams, the face of this new world kit was drawn into, the first person he really got close to after he was pulled from one world to another, the person who convinced him to stay.

was the “person [kit] loved” an accurate reflection of who ty really was, flaws and all? unlikely. and the image of ty in kit’s head didn’t allow room for the real ty’s complicated, overwhelming grief, either, and the ways he would try to cope with it: and i believe this is part of why kit was so shocked by what happened and why he’s still so angry at ty. because ty proved to him that he wasn’t what kit believed him to be, and so all of kit’s hopes for his new life came crumbling down.

do i think it’s fair to ty? no, i don’t. but i think both can be true: that kit is upset and had gone through a traumatic situation, and has valid feelings about it while also understanding that he had a very skewed perception of ty that wasn’t fair to him.

mostly i think we need more room for understanding ty’s feelings*. how it must have felt to lose his twin sister in a horrifying way, devised a plan that (to him) seemed completely reasonable** only to have his best friend switch up on him last minute, tell ty he loved him mid-ritual, later say he wished he’d never met ty and basically tell ty that he was selfish and then on top of that leave without saying goodbye.

i also stand by my belief that “how long do you think it will take you to forgive me” is something both ty and kit could/should be asking each other, not just one way around. i honestly don’t understand why both kit and ty would think only kit needs to forgive ty and not both ways. mostly i just don’t think the narrative that ty’s the only one who needs forgiving is very fair, or makes much sense with their characterisation + the context + what actually happened.

in sum, when kit says “you made yourself a different person than the one i loved”, the person he’s referring to is an idealised version of ty whom he had projected all his hopes and dreams for the future onto, and by going through with the necromancy ty completely shattered kit’s understanding of him. this is consistent with other lines in his letter: “you wanted that more than you wanted me”, “when you brought livvy back, you changed yourself” (did ty really change? or did he just prove to be different from kit’s idea of him? genuine question), and perhaps most strongly evidenced by this line: “i don’t know the person you are now. you took yourself away from me. i can’t forgive that.” i don’t understand why he can’t forgive ty for not being the person kit thought he was, nor how on earth ty was supposed to know this, but i digress.

* i hope this is addressed in TWP because between TDA and now, we’ve had FAR more insight into kit’s thought processes than ty’s and as such we’re only really seeing one side of the situation.

** i also think part of the glaring misunderstanding between kit and ty can be understood from their respective backgrounds. obviously for kit, growing up away from the shadowhunter world, something like necromancy is completely out of the question. the way it would be for you or me. but ty grew up in a world where bringing people back to life was something that could and had actually happened. so it’s a far crazier, more impossible idea to kit than it would’ve been to ty.

#kit x ty #kitty #ty blackthorn #kit herondale #tbh – i could write a LOT more on this as it’s something i’ve been wrestling over in my mind since the letter came out #but i’ll stop there for now!#the more i go back and reread bits from tda coupled with kit’s letter and newer content #the more i think he wasn’t really seeing ty as Ty the Real Person with flaws etc. and more of #this dream and a personification of everything good about the shadowhunter world + majorly putting ty on a pedestal #so no wonder kit was so violently shocked by this not being true. but equally idk how it makes sense to be so angry at ty for that? but #maybe that's just me lol #the dark artifices #tda #twp #cassandra clare

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canichangemyblogname · 1 day ago

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Look, THIS is why I’m not upset with Tommy breaking things off with Buck, just the rhetoric they (the show) wrote for WHY they broke up and the general lack of resolution we’re likely to get. The break up itself is like… yeah, okay. It’s drama on a drama. People CAN see Tommy’s perspective: Buck DOES still have things to learn and IS still impulsive. There ARE a lot of things Buck does not know.

It’s the dialogue they wrote for Tommy and the likely lack of follow through that has me like 😑. Let me explain—

Tommy could have followed up Buck’s question about moving in with, “I’m not so sure moving in would work out; I think it’s too soon.” Buck blinks as he hesitates. “Uh— w-we-well, why not?” “Look— you’re an incredible guy. You’re funny and hot and kind… but you’re impulsive, and I feel like you may still have some things to learn.” “I—I’m not sure I know what you mean?” “We’re in two very different places in our lives. I feel the way you see me is incompatible with the partnership I want in a long-term relationship.” Tommy takes a sharp breath in. He pauses. “I—,”Tommy falters, “I’m not so sure we will work out.” “Wait— are-are you breaking up with me?” And then we get the similarly devastating, “Yeah… I guess so. Believe me, I didn’t see this coming, either.” A beat, and then, “See you around, Buck.”

And the thing is? This feels more resolved without fully closing the door. The reasoning behind why they’re breaking up is because Tommy feels they’re in two different places in life. He feels like moving in is too soon and that Buck is being impulsive. He feels like Buck is treating him more like a gay yoda than a partner, and so moving in will put their relationship on an unsustainable course that positions Tommy less as a partner and more as a forever teacher.

Additionally, characterizing the breakup as the result of being in different places in life (and emotionally) could continue a narrative trend of Tommy successfully working out emotions in a way Buck has not yet learned. Buck was so jealous and in need of Tommy’s attention that he maimed his best friend. However, when Tommy was jealous of the 118, that did not manifest in any real-world consequences because Tommy processed that jealousy in a healthy, normal way. Buck has daddy issues, and this directly impacts his emotional relationship with his father and Bobby, and his professional issues with Gerrard. However, Tommy has already come to terms with the nature of his relationship with his dad and, it could be argued, he has processed his daddy issues or dealt with them in a more productive way. At the same time, should the author want to do something with these character threads later on, the foundation has already been laid to explore Tommy’s jealousy and possible daddy issues as sources of conflict later. (Later exploring this also wouldn’t do the breakup scene any injustice, as the main reason for the breakup is how Buck views Tommy and the growth—re: impulsiveness— that Buck still needs to undergo.)

This hypothetical also avoids the whole, “Why would someone date someone else for six months when they just assume that person’s going to leave them and break their heart at any moment?” This hypothetical additionally avoids these characters breaking up explicitly because they have the same wants and desires for the relationship, like what we got in canon. (In canon, Tommy literally went, “You’re good looking and funny and kind and incredible and I really want to be with you, and you want to be with me, too, and that’s why we actually can’t be together.” 🙄) It also avoids re-hashing conflicts the characters have already addressed, like Tommy thinking Buck isn’t yet ready for or comfortable with his queerness, because this hypothetical would focus on Buck’s history of impulsivity or grand declarations when things get tough or weird. It also avoids the fact that Tommy did agree to try again, knowing that Buck didn’t have a label yet and then attended a wedding as Buck’s date, so why does he suddenly have an issue with Buck’s sexuality 6 months in? And, this hypothetical also still leaves the door open in the event the author wants to revisit this character dynamic, but currently cannot develop it due to cast contracts. Because Buck can wise up. He can admit that he had approached some aspects of the relationship a little impulsively; that he was prone to hitting Tommy with these grand declarations. Buck can change the way he views Tommy. Buck can change the way he sees relationships as something meaningful designed to help his own growth (“transformative” and all that). And all of this can happen with Tommy off screen. They theoretically then COULD meet again when they’re in similar places in their lives (and emotionally), or Buck could apply his newfound growth to his next relationship or final relationship.

Because Buck does still have growing to do and things to figure out, it’s just that none of those things are about whether or not he likes men, as Tommy’s canon monologue implies with the whole, “You’re still figuring yourself out… I’m not your last; I’m your first.”

But that’s ultimately what we got. We got that BS about firsts and lasts where Tommy downplayed what Buck feels for him and why, and outright assumed Buck’s feelings now and in the future. He spent that entire scene giving Buck the ol’ biphobic, “you still gotta figure yourself out” and “you’ll just leave me for someone else” lines. He then concludes his break up dialogue by telling Buck that he’s afraid Buck will break his heart and that he can’t handle that, implying that he’s breaking it off due to anxieties around getting hurt emotionally. But the thing is? Tommy’s insecurities aren’t resolvable with Tommy off screen because Tommy needs to be on screen to show that growth. So, if contracting is or becomes an issue for someone who is NOT A MAIN, then there will be no resolution. Don’t hint at a character having major insecurities as a source of conflict—on par with that of a main— if the show cannot dedicate the appropriate screen time to that character to resolve that conflict.

Because right now? This FEELS like the set up for the third act’s preclimax. Tension between the characters is at its highest. Now Buck—the hero—must look inward and decide whether to prevail. He must face his deepest fears and greatest weaknesses. He must come out on the other side knowing that he is not listless; he knows what he wants for his future. This would take Buck full circle from who he was in his “Begins” episode where he didn’t know what he wanted or who he wanted to be, and hopped from place to place on this journey. Buck will realize he has hopped from relationship to relationship because he hadn’t defined himself well enough, but NOW he knows who he is. And once he realizes that, we reach the climax: the confrontation. Buck confronts Tommy about Tommy breaking his heart. This immediately segues into the resolution where Tommy acknowledges this hurt and admits the break was due to his own insecurities. And then, much like in season 3 with Abby, the show could keep them broken up to continue their Tommy-Abby parallel. (IMHO— if a resolution is the goal, keeping them broken up would be a more likely outcome when considering contracts. If the two got back together, that would require the show to dedicate a good chunk of screen time to addressing Tommy’s insecurities, something they may not be able to follow through with due to availability.) And then we actually have an on screen portrayal of HOW Tommy was transformative for Buck as opposed to just being told he was.

However, this resolution still requires Tommy to return, and exit interviews seem to suggest the actor who plays Tom is not returning. Meaning, this may remain unresolved. We could have had something that seemed resolved with the potential to revisit it, but instead we have something that would require the show to feature heavily conflict revolving around the insecurities of a character who is not a main, played by an actor who is juggling multiple projects.

Why not make the conflict something that can be resolved with Tommy off screen? Why not provide a little resolution if you cannot guarantee more Tommy? Why hint at fundamental changes to Buck’s character journey and the outcomes of his relationships if this one ends like all the others? Why suggest the show is going to fundamentally alter the way it writes love interests, something that would necessitate a change to how the show approaches any and all secondary characters? Why build up Tommy as a source of character conflict and major transformation for Buck if they cannot dedicate the appropriate screen time to establish that? (Because, remember, Buck TOLD the audience that Tommy was transformative for him, but we’ve yet to see how he’s been transformative like we have with any of Buck’s other previous love interests.) Why build up his insecurities if the show cannot address them?

I actually think they should have stopped going to Miceli’s. I think that place is cursed. Weird vibes. Every time they went, it was awkward.

#Fucking discourse #911 ABC

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delta-lethonomia · 2 days ago

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ok depresso week is over, back to deliberate hyperfixation on bg3:

It is absolutely wild to me that people take Astarion to the foursome with the drow twins (romanced, spawn, post-cazador) and are shocked, shocked I tell you, that he has a bad time. But it leads me to think that there's an interesting conversation to be had here about morality applied to video games. I'm going to be using what's a bit of a strawman tbh, what I would consider an archetypical, "good person" gamer for this niche example.

(3k essay under the cut about irl morals vs video game behavior, my take on why Astarion agrees to the orgy, beating the dead horse of Astarion discourse now that the fandom has cooled off enough I might not get flogged for it, and all my election stress being translated into an increasingly bitchy narrative voice that I hope is at least mildly amusing.)

"Good Person Gamer" romances Astarion. They're probably female, which I am mentioning exclusively so I can turn that into "Good Girl Gamer" 😏, or G3. G3 picks nice dialogue options. G3 tries to support their companions, and finds diplomatic and moral solutions to problems. G3 saved the tieflings. G3 still romances Astarion because he's hot, and vulnerable, and it's not like he forces you to be evil - he just complains a bit when you save kittens stuck in trees, but you get that approval back anyway just by being nice to him. Talk him out of Ascension and you've proven to yourself he's got a good soul under all that attitude anyway. He'd healed! You banged on his grave! It's all good now!

The brothel is fun. The drow twins are hot. It's always fun when games lets you do spicy things like have threesomes and orgies! We're sex-positive! Look, the drow twins said they love their job! It's totally fine! G3, as most people, probably does not do these things in real life, but that's the fun in video games: you get to be someone you're not.

And then Astarion noticeably dissociates. He throws himself in the center and lavishes everyone with attention; he's a professional, you know. Even an unromanced Tav/Durge notices something's off, and Astarion replies something along the lines of "you don't have the right to look at me like that," presumably with worry, distress, or sympathy.

G3 is upset. They did everything right - they didn't want to hurt him, and Astarion himself said he wanted this. Why couldn't they stop midway through and remind him that he doesn't have to hurt himself? Why couldn't they talk about it afterwards, and clear the air? LARIAN WHY DO YOU HURT ME

Now, to all the G3's out there: if you were dating a person with extensive sexual trauma, having been raped literally thousands of times, would you suggest having a threesome/orgy? With prostitutes, if that's better or worse? Putting them on the spot before your mutual friends? Would you wait a few years to mention the idea, or would you do so only weeks/months into a relationship? Your first "I love you" might have only been yesterday.

And most people, I think, would say "No." Writing that scenario outside of the lens of a video game makes it sound insane - of course you wouldn't! I'm not saying that they should never have group sex or that it can't be done, but I think most people instinctively get how that would be a shitty thing to do in that context, especially without discussing it in depth beforehand and making sure you're both on the same page.

And this is the meat of the issue. Most gamers play good-aligned characters: there's a strong culture of wanting to play the hero and saving the day. But tied into that cultural monomyth, in society itself, is the idea that sex is a reward at the end. You get sex at the end of the romance arc. The date where you have sex is one of many milestones, and you're not really dating if you haven't done it yet. Some people don't have sex until their wedding night. Threesome scenes especially are a video game classic: old-school God of War, for instance, had a hidden room in every game with scantily-clad women just waiting for you to button-mash away, a little treat for the player's keen puzzle-solving abilities.

Not all romances in BG3 have sex or end with sex, (some even start with sex), but that is because BG3's character writing tries to ground itself in reality despite being a medium people utilize for fantasy. Role-playing a "good" character is mostly easy: you typically know which dialogue choice is the ethical choice, can chide Astarion for being racist, can save the numerous children with moral ease - and BG3 rewards this: a good playthrough is more fleshed out, because you haven't killed off half the cast. You get better gear. You have more allies, better allies. You know what to do.

Or, well, mostly. BG3 is kind of special imo because even the good choices have a lot of nuance, where two people can make different choices but still feel like they both picked the most ethical one. Take Shadowheart's parents, for example: they beg for her to let them go so they can die and save their daughter. Saving them leaves Shadowheart in Shar's clutches - she will experience pain for the rest of her life, but regains her parents, and with luck, Selûne will claim her soul when she dies. Kill them, and Shadowheart is free - truly free, to live her life on her own terms, free from Shar and Selûne both. Both can be the ethical choice, depending on your morals.

"But if Astarion didn't want to have the threesome, the game should have let me stop midway through/made it clearer that this would happen. He said no before Cazador - why couldn't he say no again? Why would Larian put me in this position and make me feel bad when I thought everything was alright? I wanted to be good and have fun, not feel like I pressured my boyfriend." - Strawman G3.

Because BG3 treats it's characters like people. Multiple companions make choices outside of what the player character decides for them - Shadowheart's decision to save or kill her parents, kill or save the Nightsong, or Gale, to go for the crown or not depend on what events they are there to witness personally, or can be informed by conversations you have in camp about unrelated issues. You can fully let them make their own decisions and be surprised each time as they develop into different people with each successive playthrough. A lot of people are surprised when Gale goes for the Crown of Karsus without their input. In my last multiplayer playthrough, we could not prevent Shadowheart from wanting to kill the Nightsong, and so we were forced to kill her.

Astarion is not like that. The way he talks about Ascension changes depending on your relationship. If you're merely friends, he acknowledges it's probably a bad idea, even, in direct contrast to the somewhat obsessive and frightening way he pursues it in a romantic relationship. But Astarion can't decide what to do at the end: he has no hidden point system, no hidden flags - he will always pursue Ascension even if he knows it's a bad idea, because Astarion does not trust himself, has no experience trusting himself, and needs help. As counter-intuitive as it may sound, he needs support to make his own decisions, because in that moment, he cannot be objective.

(If Astarion is ever objective is another story....)

So much of Astarion's reactions and opinions are instinctive and unthinking. "Don't let the pixie out of the lantern, are you an idiot?" -> "A pixie! And honest-to-goodness pixie! *giggles*"

"We don't need a urchin hanging around." -> Astarion approves if you help Yenna

etc. etc. etc. There's so many times he says one thing, the cruel thing, the "fuck everyone else, I've got mine"-thing, and then approves when you do the good thing. Astarion does not live in line with his values (besides pursuing a growing need for freedom) and he frankly does not really know what his values even are.

Astarion doesn't react with glee to finding all the people he seduced - who inadvertently raped him, though they didn't know, some lowlifes and scoundrels and people having a bad day and even some sweet, naive virgins like Sebastian, who took that smoking hot Elf on his word and followed him home, probably in disbelief someone so gorgeous would pay them any attention at all - tortured and locked in a dungeon underground. He's crushed by guilt. He's in pain. Astarion delights in you causing others pain (the torture scene) because it aligns with his worldview, the joy of seeing someone else suffer for once. But he's not a cold-hearted murderer. (And yes, I am differentiating between "adventurer kills a bandit" murder and "deliberately killing someone you know for reasons/no reason" murder.) He doesn't hurt anyone in camp - Shadowheart and Lae'zel are far more dangerous than him. You never have to stop him from drinking anyone else to death. Even if you never feed him again, never use his bite attack, he never bites anyone in camp. Despite being a vampire, Astarion is, effectively, harmless. (Bite night was about checking whether or not Cazador's old command's still worked. It's his first real attempt at freedom, proving to himself that he's free from compulsion. Hence why the roll to get him to stop is a 5, giving you a 75% likelihood of succeeding. He doesn't actually want to kill you. And you get two chances!!!)

Astarion doesn't enjoy death for the sake of death. He's terrified if you side with the goblins and kill the tieflings despite goading you into doing it. I don't doubt that he could hurt others (god knows he's got enough feelings to work out that way), but there's a significant difference between a little knife play and condemning thousands of people to be tortured in the Hells for all eternity. Sacrificing his siblings is different, because they, like him, are guilty, and deserve their deaths. He agrees to sacrifice his fellow spawn as an act of self hatred, of self harm. But all those other people stupid enough to want to sleep with him? Given a day to think about it, I think Astarion would agree that that's not right - and that's why he thanks you for preventing his Ascension. That much murder isn't him. He can be thoughtless, cruel, and unkind, but Astarion isn't a psychopath.

Take him to the brothel, and slipping back into that role, the seductive rake, it as easy as breathing. I don't think Astarion has ever thought about if he's the type of person to enjoy group sex, or even if he wants it. I don't doubt that Astarion enjoys sex, that he wants to have sex (he is, after all that, still shockingly horny), but he's just discovered the idea of having sex with someone he loves. He's riding that high. Of course he says yes: not only is he a different man now (he's free!), it's something he's done a thousand times already - maybe it'll be different this time, maybe something has changed - or maybe, an orgy was on offer, so of course Astarion is there. It's his purpose. He's been doing it for 200 years. Where else would he be?

What I'm saying is that Astarion didn't think about what sleeping with the drow twins meant for your relationship, or how he would feel about it at all. He just went for it. He had a bad time. You then don't discuss it because that would mean admitting that he finally made a choice by himself and it backfired. He didn't think, or maybe he did, and it turns out he just doesn't know himself. Why discuss it? A relationship with G3 apparently means group sex. They probably asked twice. They backtracked all the way to Wyrm's Crossing post-Cazador. Will they ask again? How many times can he say no?

In reality, in the real world, the act of asking can be the problem in and of itself. If your significant other/spouse/lover asks you to do something you don't want to do, be it a threesome, anal, opening the relationship etc, these actions have consequences. The act of asking doesn't happen in a vacuum like it does in video games: there is a cost associated with it, a gamble, and while it may pay off, it may not. Some people get worn down and agree to things they don't want to do. Sometimes you break up because the act of asking is so inherently disrespectful you can't reconcile your differing wants and needs. If you're dating someone who has experienced the gut-wrenching pain of being cheated on, you don't ask 2 months into a new relationship if you can fuck other people. This should not come as a surprise to you, to G3, to anyone. It's common sense.

BG3 giving you the opportunity for a foursome with Astarion not only to give the player their hot'n'spicy sex scene (then playfully bops you on the nose by making it a fade-to-black, you naughty little perverts, you), but also to continue its theme of treating the player like a mature adult, who is dealing with other mature adults, and who can and should live with the consequences of their own actions. Subsequent patches have watered this down, I admit, but I do believe that that was the ethos guiding their work from the beginning. BG3 wants you to interact with the characters like people. If you roll over and tell them what they want to hear, you will Ascend Astarion, and he'll enslave you in turn. If you agree with Gale on everything, he will kill himself and you - or, he'll become a god, becoming the exact sort of god he used to rail against. Agree with Karlach, and she will rather die than go back to the Hells. You get my point.

"But Larian could have let me check in on Astarion midway through. Maybe it was a mistake to ask, but they should have let me check on him and stop it all if he wanted. I was trying to trust him to make his own decisions." - Strawman G3

Ok. We add a dialogue option. "Astarion, love, are you alright? We can stop at any time if you want."

Astarion disapproves (-5)

He's not backing out. Thank you for asking, darling, but fuck off. (I don't think he'd actually say fuck off but the implicit message would be there. I can't see Astarion stopping midway through, nor appreciating you doubting him. Nothing changes.)

"But I still feel bad." - Strawman G3

And I completely understand that. It's a video game. Don't worry! Of course you should get your sex scene - it's a reward! You got their approval high enough! You have enough charisma points! In DA:O, you can also have an orgy, unlocked by giving your companions enough gifts! It's a game! You have enough points, you get the thing!!! You killed Cazador - you win! Have your cake and eat it too! Congrats, you unlocked your hot slutty vampire elf who's basically a trained courtesan, who needs you to be his moral compass, who will never leave you so long as you don't actively rape him - enjoy all the fun orgies in your future!

Your actual choice - the choice the game gives you - is to realize that taking what's essentially a human trafficking victim to a brothel is a dumb idea, but they didn't want to punish you for it.

"Well, Astarion should have said something then. He said no before, he can say no again." - Strawman G3

If you go through life pushing peoples boundaries and expect them to verbally tell you what you're doing wrong, you're gonna be friendless and have a bad time. This ties back to both Astarion having difficulty knowing and defending his own values, BG3 trying to let you make your own decisions without setting out a clear "good or bad" path on occasion, and the hope that you'd use your own morals to make decisions. G3 would never behave in this way irl, and that's where the shock comes from, the guilt from committing an action they thought was without consequence in a risk-free fantasy scenario, and then feeling unpleasantly surprised when called out.

But it's a video game, and you didn't get the little zap, the little sting of an Astarion disapproves in the corner that told you you made the wrong choice. In fact, because he doesn't disapprove, it's not actually the wrong choice!

It really was mean how the Narrator made G3 feel bad, wasn't it. They didn't mean to hurt him. Astarion doesn't mention it, so it's probably fine.

... have you talked to Halsin yet? Surely he had a good time. Right?

CONCLUSION

People think they're good and moral and will typically behave "heroically" in video games. Games support this and reward players for doing so. The "good path" is expected to be clear. However, video games are not real life no matter how much they play at immersion, and multiple games have trained players in a linear "do x, receive y" type fashion. Sex is a reward in games, and is treated that way in real life as well, so players expect the Sharess' orgy scene to be a reward, and are then shocked when Astarion/Gale/Halsin etc reveal during or afterwards that they had a bad time. This is because Larian wants you to treat BG3 like a role playing game and interact with it seriously, and isn't afraid to boop you for your actions in ways that mimic real life relationships. This ethical dissonance makes people uncomfortable especially when they play games to role-play as someone better than themselves, and are surprised when they aren't herded down predetermined "good" paths via instantaneous approval/disapproval mechanics or unlockable "ideal" dialogue.

It is absolutely possible that someday Astarion might be into meaningless group sex with prostitutes for fun and pleasure. However, that is the sort of thing you'd probably either wait for him to bring up by himself organically, or discuss in a long-term trusting relationship after he's had potentially years to process the idea of not immediately hopping into bed with someone, as well as disentangling his instinctive "beaten-in" sexually available behavior from his actual desires. People much more emotionally mature and undamaged than Astarion have destroyed their own relationships by inadvertently pushing a partner (or themselves) into various forms of group sex or other sexual acts. It's not something you do on a random Tuesday on a whim.

Or maybe it is, and I'm just chronically boring and surrounded by boring people lmao

TO THE POSTER THAT INSPIRED THIS: I'm so so sorry if you ever see this, not trying to call you out at all hence no linking, I just wanted to pick apart why I think you felt that way. The thoughts just finally bubbled over after a year+ lol

#I deliberately waited for discourse to calm down before writing any Astarion essays so be nice pls #I don’t like fighting people on the internet #delta.txt #Astarion #bg3 astarion

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