#even if I accepted both of their relationships

[fairyhaos]

◇ the way you make me feel // choi seungcheol

seungcheol x gn!reader, 2.6k+ words

tags: requested by anon, established relationship, fluff, mild angst, seungcheol is sooo down bad oh lawwd

warnings: pet names, 1 vvv mild curse word ig?? (ass)

notes: any fic where i get to write besotted cheol is a great fic! might be slightly ooc but oh well. who cares. ty anon for this request <3

“I'm going to be very honest, honey… this feels like a sleeping arrangement for a couple that's just had an argument.”

You laugh a little at the mild pout on your boyfriend's face as he stares contemplatively at the bed after you've suggested a rather… interesting sleep method that he's never really heard of before. 

“It's really not,” you assure him. “Other couples do this all the time! And I thought it would be fun to try out too.”

Your boyfriend, Seungcheol, blinks at the bed before looking over at you, mystified. 

“Really? People want to do this?”

“Yes, Cheol.”

“Hm.” Seungcheol frowns. “What did you say this was called again?”

“The Scandinavian Sleep Method,” you say cheerfully, hopping over to the drawers with all the different duvets and duvet covers that you and your boyfriend have collected over the years you've been living together. “Isn't it such a great idea? We sleep in the same bed, but we each have a different duvet so we get better sleep but still get to be next to each other.”

You begin pulling out different duvets, inspecting them and continuing to chatter as you do so. 

“I know how much you love weighted blankets, but you know they're not something I'm a big fan of,” you say. “And you really hate my fluffy covers, for some reason. But if we sleep this way, then both of us can sleep happily without causing disturbance to the other's sleep quality!”

With a flourish, you turn back round to Seungcheol, the offending weighted blanket and fluffy cover in your hands, as if emphasising your point. There's a bright beam on your face, evidently eager to try out this new idea, but Seungcheol? 

He's still looking a bit hesitant. 

Which, understandable. You're introducing a new sleeping arrangement three years after you've been quite happily living together. Anyone would find that weird. 

“If we don't like it, we can switch back,” you assure him. You shrug. “It's just a trend I saw online, Cheol. I thought it would be cool.”

Seungcheol pauses, and then smiles, nodding once. “Fine, fine. Let's try out, then. We'll see if the Scandinavians actually sleep well.”

You cheer, dropping the bedding and skipping across the room to launch yourself into Seungcheol’s arms. He catches you easily, laughing as he does so, amused at how delighted you are by his acceptance. 

“Yes! I love you. Now I get to make the bed all aesthetic with different layered sheets!”

Seungcheol laughs again. “All right, sweetheart. Tell me if you need more sheets to fit in with your vision, okay? I'll buy you whatever you need.”

“Oh my god, suddenly I love you even more.”

───────────── 🗝

Admittedly, Seungcheol does love hearing you say that you, the absolute love of his life, love him (and any self-respecting boyfriend would feel the same), but he's wondering if this entire thing is really, really all that worth it. 

Because, well. 

Seungcheol hates the Scandinavian Sleep Method. 

He harbours no hatred towards the Scandinavians themselves, of course, but their sleep method, for him, well and truly sucks. 

Of course, he can understand why people like it. There are aspects he doesn't mind, too: such as how it's currently way less likely for him to wake up at 4am with a cold ass because you've stolen half the covers from him again. Or how he doesn't have to worry about the fluffy, fuzzy feeling of your sheets pressing creepily soft kisses against his ankles. Or how he can now actually sleep peacefully without finding that he's been suffocated by your weight on his chest because now, you actually sleep on your side of the bed. 

Nevertheless, he hates this. 

Unfortunately, he can't bring himself to say anything about this, because—

“I seriously think my quality of sleep has improved so much,” you say to Seungcheol one Sunday morning, beaming over your cup of coffee as he makes breakfast waffles for you. “The Scandinavians really know what they're talking about, huh?”

And your eyes are bright, sparkling as you say this, so full of life even though it's nine in the morning on a Sunday. 

So Seungcheol smiles back, happy purely because you're happy, even though if you really pressed him, he'd admit that he's not really happy at all. 

“I guess they do,” he says, turning back to the waffles. “Do you want honey with the waffles? Or the new maple syrup I bought you?”

“Ooh, maple syrup, please!”

And then Seungcheol had done all sorts of fancy tricks with the bottle of maple syrup, and you had clapped your hands and laughed, delighted, and Seungcheol felt a little better, the weight of his guilt that he didn't share your opinion beginning to lighten. 

There's no real big reason why he hates this sleeping arrangement. Sure, it stops all your bad sleeping habits, but, truthfully, he… misses all those things. 

He misses waking up to you all huddled up in the blankets, looking all small and adorable whilst swathed in the thick fabric. He misses cuddling you close and entangling his legs with yours in order to escape from the weird fluffy texture of your sheets. He misses feeling the comforting weight of you asleep against his chest, warm and secure like the physical manifestation of his soul, safely tucked against his side. 

Now, you simply smile at him, face shiny and soft from your skincare routine, and give him a peck on the cheek goodnight before snuggling under your duvet, away from him, in your own little bubble of comfort. 

Without him. 

It makes him feel like an abandoned dog left in the rain outside of his owner's home. 

Excuse him for being dramatic, but he's literally slept with you curled up in his arms for a very, very long time now. And these days, now that you're no longer with him and are miles away on the other half of the bed, he can't fall asleep by himself. 

Withdrawal symptoms from cuddling must be a thing, because he's going through them right now. 

“Just talk about how you feel, then,” is what any sane person would say about this matter, which is very good, very sound, advice. 

However, it's also what Joshua says to Seungcheol when he complains to him about the new sleeping arrangement, and everyone knows Joshua is the least sane person in existence, so Seungcheol decides to ignore his advice. 

Joshua rolls his eyes, used to but not pleased by Seungcheol's stubbornness. 

“You're being silly,” he says, when Seungcheol vetoes his suggestion. “This is obviously impacting your sleep quality in a negative way, which is the exact opposite of what Y/N was hoping for.”

“But Y/N seems to be sleeping better,” Seungcheol argues. He rubs his eyes, and the world spins a little as he does so. “So I probably shouldn't say anything, right?”

“No, you should say something,” Joshua says firmly. “What do you think Y/N will do when it becomes obvious that this new arrangement is actively harming you, and yet you didn't say anything? Hell, if I found out my boyfriend wasn't telling me that kind of stuff, I'd get really mad.”

Seungcheol frowns. “What? Why?”

“Because you're my boyfriend?” Joshua says. “Uh—not actually mine, obviously. But that's how Y/N would feel. You need to communicate your feelings. That's what couples do.”

Joshua takes a sip of his tea, spinning around in Seungcheol's desk chair in his study whilst Seungcheol, the owner of the chair, is currently exiled to the small wooden stool beside it. 

“Just think about how you'd feel if you were in Y/N's shoes. How would you feel if your partner wasn't telling you that they're sleeping badly and feeling increasingly more terrible throughout the weeks because of something that could be easily fixed by them talking it out with you?”

And oh, now Seungcheol understands. Now it makes more sense. He'd want you to communicate your feelings immediately. 

Joshua must see the revelation on Seungcheol's face, because he snorts smugly. “I knew you'd get there in the end.”

“Shut up,” Seungcheol grumbles, and Joshua mocks him for how ridiculously macho-man he was being before. “I'll talk to Y/N about this tonight.”

“Well done,” Joshua says amusedly, spinning around in Seungcheol's chair so fast that its joints, even as expensive and well-oiled as they are, begin to groan in surprise. “I'm so proud of you.” 

 “Shut up,” Seungcheol says again, and Joshua laughs. “And get off my chair.”

“Hmph! You're so mean. I bought this chair for you, you know.”

“No, you didn't.”

“No, I didn't. But you believed me for a second, didn't you?”

“Definitely not. Now get out of my house before Y/N gets home.”

───────────── 🗝

It's one of those very, very rare days where you finish work later than Seungcheol, and so when you unlock the front door and finally make it inside, you're more than ready to just fall into your boyfriend's arms. 

Except, the entire ground floor of your house is dark when you get home.

“Where is he?” you say to yourself, mystified. “Cheol? Where are you?”

“In our room!” he calls back from upstairs, and you take off your coat and shoes, dumping your bag by the doorway and bounding up the stairs two at a time to get to your boyfriend. 

“Seungcheol! Why were the hallway lights off? Have you eaten dinner yet? What's— wait, what are you doing?”

In the middle of your bed, right over where the two halves of your bedding meet, Seungcheol is sprawled out in an upside down starfish shape, staring up at you balefully as you walk into the room, and you laugh a little at the state your boyfriend is in. 

“Hello,” you say amusedly. “You look like you're sulking.”

Seungcheol just continues to blink up at you like a displeased cat. 

You laugh again, bending down and kissing him on the forehead. “Definitely sulking, I see. What's wrong, baby? What happened?”

There's a long moment where Seungcheol doesn't say anything, and you continue to smile down at him, petting his hair fondly. And then, he frowns, and speaks. 

“What do you think of our bed?”

You look over at the head of the bed, scanning it briefly. “I think it looks fine.”

It's apparently the wrong thing to say, because Seungcheol frowns harder. 

“Why? Do you not like it?”

“I don't like it,” Seungcheol says, and sits up, turning around to face you. “I don't like this sleeping arrangement.”

You tilt your head. “Oh? I thought you didn't mind the Scandinavian Sleep Method.”

Seungcheol sighs. “I lied,” he admits. “I actually hate it so much. It's the worst thing in the entire world.”

Your face softens in worry, feeling something thick and bitter rising to your throat at the idea that you've been forcing Seungcheol to go through with something he hates. 

“I'm sorry,” you say sincerely, sitting down beside him on the bed. “I didn't realise. You should've said something, Cheol. I would've changed back in an instant.”

Seungcheol, for how big and manly and good at acting as your guard dog he is, still always melts under your touch, and the moment you wrap your arms around his neck, he softens into your embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. 

“Would you really?” he asks, muffled into your blazer, and you belatedly realise that you're still in your work clothes. You haven't even washed your hands. 

“Of course I would,” you say in your best don't be silly voice. “I don't want you to be feeling bad.”

His hands wrap around your waist, warm and comforting and he pulls you in closer, hugging you even tighter. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I feel like I'm being stupid. This isn't even anything big. It just… makes me feel really terrible, and I don't know why.”

“Hey, that's totally okay,” you say placatingly, threading your fingers through his hair and patting him consolingly on the back. “I told you we didn't have to carry on with this, baby. I said we could switch back whenever we wanted to.”

He squeezes you tighter, arms wrapping more securely around you. “I still feel bad. You liked this sleeping method.”

You laugh softly, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Yes, but not as much as I like you.”

If possible, he seems to melt even further into you at those words, and you smile, adoring how clearly he adores you. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” you say affectionately, kissing Seungcheol's ear before untangling yourself from his embrace. “Let's start remaking the bed then, hm?”

You pull away from his arms, and Seungcheol is staring at you with big eyes, irises all melty soft. And then he nods, smiling slightly, looking like a pleased puppy as he gets off the bed and begins helping you take the covers off the duvets. 

───────────── 🗝

It's unusual for Seungcheol to be so shy like this—normally, he's the one telling you to be more outspoken, more confident, so it's a nice change. You quite like being able to reassure him, gently tell him what to do, praise him and shower him with love in the way that he always does with you. 

“So why did you hate the Scandinavian Sleep Method?” you ask him a bit later as the two of you sit in front of the washing machine, watching it spin your bedding round and round. Seungcheol had insisted that you wash all of it right away, because otherwise the two of you were bound to put it off for a whole month. 

Your boyfriend shrugs. He watches the bedding get spun in circles again and again and again. 

And then, he finally looks at you, clad in your classic two-piece cotton pyjamas, hair all a mess, your face softened and natural now that you've washed up for the night, all ready to go to bed. 

You look so pretty like this, so open and comforting and god, Seungcheol had missed you. 

Even though he sees you every day. But that's whatever. He's missed being this close with you at night, in this kind of domestic setting, where it's just the two of you pressed close together in your house as the rest of the world sleeps. 

“That sleeping arrangement…” he begins quietly, and you look up. 

“Hm?”

Seungcheol holds your gaze very seriously as he continues. “It didn't let me hug you.”

You blink. “What?”

“It didn't let me hug you,” he repeats, as serious as ever, and you want to laugh in fondness because it really is that serious for him. “I couldn't cuddle you to sleep. I hated that.”

“Oh,” you say, positively melting away at his reason, so unbelievably in love with him that your heart is goo in your chest. “That's so sweet, Cheol, oh my god.”

You lean over and pinch his cheek, cooing over him, and he bats your hand away with a groan, smiling. 

“Go away,” he grumbles, but it's so full of warmth that the words carry no weight whatsoever.

“But then you can't cuddle me in your sleep,” you say, pouting exaggeratedly. “Unless… you don't wanna cuddle me any more?” 

You gasp dramatically, leaning away from him for full effect, and then yelp when he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into his side, preventing you from moving away. 

“Don't say silly things like that,” he reprimands teasingly, laughter tinging the ends of his words. He kisses your shoulder. “Of course I want to cuddle you. It's the only thing I'll be doing every night from now on.”

“That's awfully cheesy,” you point out. “Sap.”

“It's all your fault.”

“Huh, I suppose it is,” you say proudly, snuggling into your boyfriend. “Glad to know I have such an effect on you.”

Seungcheol sighs, fond, and kisses your shoulder once again. “Oh, if only you knew.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa  @weird-bookworm  @minhui896  @slytherinshua  @haowrld  @belladaises  @moonlitskiiies  @mirxzii  @zozojella  @kawennote09  @a-wandering-stay  @abibliolife  @wonranghaeee  @icyminghao  @sweet-like-caramel  @your-yxnnie  @odxrilove  @kyeomyun  @crackedpumpkin  @kellesvt  @eightlightstar  @onlyyjeonghan  @aaniag  @starshuas  @raevyng  @isabellah29  @hrts4hanniehae  @mcu-incorrect  @dokyeomkyeom  @suraandsugar  @tulsa24  @melodicrabbit  @dokyeomkyeom  @hopeless-foolery @aaa-sia

[janejennyojeny]

Last pic really sold it for me, the location is almost poetic

Would yap about it but fuck it

Lately i wish everyone would just shut the fuck up for real

There will be presidental election soon in poland and everyone is so fucking opinionated about every little thing, people are so hateful and so so wrong on many topics

Arguing with someone who doesnt value basic human rights just because it does not affect them is so exhausting and you will never win

People lack empathy and imagination, they choose whatever candidate promises them the most - what would profit them the most (those postulates will never come true anyway)

Medieval beliefs are still strong in peoples minds and it shows

Dont even say a thing about women who vote far right, its like chickens voting for kfc what the actual fuck, why are you voting against yourself

Internalized misogyny in women is funny when you watch a video on the internet

But when you actually talk to a person that delusional its truly terrible to hear, and they believe it so strongly too, you will not win

I wonder if its a true belief or something for the male gaze

If its the second one Id lay it off, there is nothing easier for a woman than getting a man. You do not even need to try impress them anyhow, just be, they will always orbit around you whether you care or not

This guy i know that was always so nice and "prowomen" suddenly showed his true face after getting absolutely destroyed in a political argument, just by facts and logic

Now all he does is send misogynistic memes that put women down, of course to make other guys laugh cause "women ☕️", but when you send one meme that makes fun of men, oh boy, you would not believe the shitstorm

good thing is that I managed to convert one of those conservative guys into giving up the vote for someone who cares for us as a collective, for the less fortunate ones, someone who will not sell this country again. Candidate for millions not millionaires. Thats a win cause you would not believe how much talking it took to actually convert someone to turn 180 politically but Ive done it

Thats all I had in me though, recently left some groupchats just cause im generally tired of people, the more i meet, the more we talk, the more they reveal themselves to me, the more I accept the fact that I may be an outcast for a long time

Maybe i need to be more accepting, maybe people need to get their shit together and priorities straight. Maybe a little bit of both

We'll meet in the middle someday, hopefully. Otherwise Ill stick to myself cause I do not plan to lower the standards, not yet anyway. anyone thats "nice" "okay" "fine" "cool" is a no, its not nearly enough.

I want fire within someone's eyes, huge heart, painful honesty and the soul needs to shine through and blind my ass. whether its love or friendship

Maybe thats delusional as well, maybe not

Maybe I do not understand human relationships all that well to appreciate less, maybe I aim for something impossible, maybe i do not deserve it yet, maybe there are no rules or invisible threads that connect people and we just bump into each other randomly, and some just get lucky enough to experience the real thing that lasts

A lot of maybe, only one thing is sure - I will get answers sooner or later, life has a way about it and reveals stuff to you if you listen

Just said i dont wanna yap and i yapped all the way so, fuck it. no one reads it anyway and i can let out some steam

In case i dont see ya, good afternoon, good evening and goodnight

[liljizzy86]

pls i need an angst/fluff with quinn and how he’s been since the canucks have virtually fallen apart in post season.

Little ball of anxiety and worry

Quinn Hughes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Quinn is exhausted and his girl knows it better than anyone

Warnings: Angst, sad Quinn, like really sad Quinn

Author: Thank you for the request <3, I had fun writing this one. It was my first time writing angst, so I hope it wasn't so bad. And once again sorry for not posting for so long, but I really want to go back to write and do it more frequently. Love you all, stay safe.

––//—-

The season is officially over. 

In a way, Quinn feels alleviate, he can rest a bit now. 

But at the same time he feels more stressed than ever. He tried everything to make this season work, and as the captain all of the weight of not being able to get in the playoff ends in his back. 

He feels like he is the only one to blame for the decline of performance on the team. Even if his girl, that was waiting for him at home right now, tries to remind him that hockey is a team sport, it is no one's fault, and even less Quinn’s fault. 

He tries to keep that in mind, tries to calm himself down, but that is difficult when he is in front of all these journalists that as they do his job, they seem to remind him of his worries. 

It is his fault.

The Canucks are not in the playoffs and it is his fault. 

I only want to go home

When he is finally free from the media, he is working in automatic. 

No celebrating. 

He can’t even remember saying ‘goodbye’ to the team or the staff.

Quinn only knows that he changed his clothes, going to his car and driving home. Not because he remembers doing it, but because he can actively see it done, as he seats in the driver's seat of his car, breathing, practicing the slime he is gonna sport as soon as he opens the apartment door and sees his girlfriend. 

And that’s what he does. 

Exactly what he expects to happen, does. 

His efforts to fake a wellness that he doesn’t feel were as useless as he knew were gonna be. As soon as the girl on the couch saw his face, she immediately knew that something was wrong and what was wrong. 

She knew her boyfriend like the palm of her hand. 

As soon as the sound of the door was heard, she was off the couch and rushing to hug him. 

Of course she knew that he was sad, depressed even, but she never expected for it to be so…visible?

Since they started dating, 3 years ago, Quinn would always hide his emotions, not because he was afraid of seeming weak, but because he didn’t want to worry her excessively. This relationship was his first that the girl actually cared for his well being, of his mental wellness. This girl was the first that would cuddle with him and let him vent, and worry about it. 

But this was the first time in those 3 years that, even with a fake smile in his face, he looked exhausted. 

He couldn't hide his emotions, his tiredness. 

“Come here,baby” That was the first thing Quinn her as she approached. 

No ‘hi’, no ‘how are you’.

She didn’t need that, and neither did Quinn. 

All she wants right now is to cuddle and make him feel safe and at least a bit better. 

“I tried…” He whispered in her shoulder. 

He hunched over her and accepted her hug. 

She guided them to the couch, where she delicately pushed both down and laid with him on top. 

The boy's body immediately melted over her touch, still tense but just her as a whole, her touch, her smell, her presence, is enough for him to relax, even if just a little bit. 

For the first time in very long, Quinn let himself be vulnerable in front of anyone else. 

“I swear I tried to make it happen.” Still whispering, this time in her shoulder, he lets the tears free. “I know we have been out of the playoffs for a while now but…” a sigh. 

“It feels real now.” The girl finishes, feeling him nod slightly. 

He continues to mumble on her, crying, saying more disconnected words than proper sentences. But she doesn’t stop him, he needs to let it all out, it has been bottled up for so long. Any of her words of encouragement would have any effect, so she remains in silence, just comforting him, hearing his laments, just sliding a hand over his back going up and messing with hair. 

That went for about an hour, when his cries subsided. 

She looked down, trying to see if Quinn was awake or not. 

He was. Brownish eyes looking back at her. 

“Feeling a little better, love?” She asked, still scratching his scalp. 

“Yeah.” He says. “ I am just so exhausted. If the team fails, all the journalists blame it on me. If the team wins, suddenly it is a team effort. I’m just so tired of  being blamed for everything, even when I have absolutely no control. It gets to a point that I start to believe them, you know, that it is all my fault. It isn’t my fault that the team is shit.” He speaks this time in full sentences and with no strong sobs. “I know that we could’ve done better, I know it for a fact, and I blame myself for it everyday. Everytime i look at the stats, the only thing I can think of is ‘dammit, I could have led this team a whole different way, and maybe we would be at the playoffs’. But we’re not, and I can't change the past. If I could’ve done differently I would. But I can't. Of course I get the harsher of it all, I mean, I am the captain. But I don’t see the future and I can't change the past. And it is not like I am trying to sabotage the team, my own team, right? I don’t know, baby, I…I think I just need to sleep it off a bit. Maybe tomorrow I feel better.”

She doesn’t contradicts. She only agrees. 

The couple gets up from the couch and goes to their room, where they change into their pajamas and get ready for bed.

Once both of them cuddle under the sheets, legs tangled and arms intertwined. Quinn lays on his back, trying to look at the ceiling, in order to avoid the girl's gaze from his chest. 

“Quinny, love.” she tries to call his attention. “Look at me, love. Please. ” 

He doesn’t want to. He wants to avoid this conversation, at least now. But he can’t resist her pleadings. So he does. His eyes connect with hers. 

God, he loved those eyes. Always so shiny, and bright, full of life. 

“It is not your fault.” She directs him a small cute smile. One that he can’t resist but to retrieve. “You are not the one to blame for. Yes you are the captain but you cannot control a hundred percent of what all of your players or the other team’s do throughout the season. You do not control when you get injuries and even when you play through them, you can only do so much.” Her hand that was sprawled on his belly, now makes its way to his face, where she scratches his bearded cheek. “You are the best captain that the team could ask for. But baby, I know this is easier for me to ask than for you to do, and I do not blame you for it, you are a little ball of anxiety and worry, I know it, but please at least try, if you can try it for yourself, try it for me. But baby, I beg you, try to leave this behind your back now, for the summer. The season is over and now you are off season, let's look ahead. From August ahead you have a full new season to worry and to stress over. But now, you are in the off season. So please let's relax a bit, yeah?” 

He let’s a little laugh at her.

“Sure baby, I’ll try it for you and for our peaceful summer.” he kissed the top of her head and lets out a sigh, visibly more calm, less tense. “Now please, let’s sleep. I had a very long day and I am extremely tired.” 

She just nods and scutches closer to him, making sure her head is comfortably laid in his chest, ready for both of them to sleep. 

“Goodnight Quinny”

“Goodnight love.”

[biza-ferreira]

I think he was her (and Peeta's) legal guardian from the moment they got reaped.

I say this because he is in charge of them in the games but also after (we only see Katniss side but we do know he was aware of Peeta losing his leg before Katniss knew, so is safe to assume he was in in the choice to remove his leg just as much on the surgery suggested for Katniss).

Also on Catching Fire all the communication about the tour and the photoshoots for the wedding are made by Haymitch. He schedule and organises things with Effie and tells Katniss about them later (he even says he got his phone fixed for that purpose only).

So, with Peeta moving alone to the Village and Katniss mentioning that she let's her mom handle the finances, I (personally) assume that after they both won it was expected that they just do things themselves.

But Haymitch steps up and help them, not because they need him for house management, but because he didn't want to expose the kids to the capital so soon (wich leads to the fiasco in 11 during the tour), he keeps them out of the loop and deals with the capital himself not just because he already knows how but because he loves them and wants to let them have as much of a childhood as he can provide (even if he knows that's not on the cards)

That's a caretaker role he assumed and everyone, the prep team, the capital and afterwards district 13, just rolled with it.

I also think that Katniss mother (Asterid?) accepts Haymitch's new role in their lifes after the games, because even if she is medicated for her depression Katniss still didn't trust her completely and even in 13 she seems more focused in her role as a doctor than supporting Katniss wich I take it means she agrees with the hole arrangement.

(do not take this last paragraph as a dislike to Asterid's character, she is a very brave woman who chose love above appeasing her parents and got cut of for it. (There is a social aspect to their relationship that is worth being discussed further) She may have failed as a mother to some extent but depression is not a black and white problem and the fact is that she did seek help once she could afford it. And if her daughter can understand and sympathise with the horrid feeling of losing a loved one to the point she can forgive her mother for how she failed to handle it, I can sympathise with her suffering as well)

Not Haymitch being the legal guardian of Katniss in Capitol and District 13.

In mockingjay,

Haymitch is annoyed about Katniss ripping off her earpiece, and he is showing her different PERMANENT earpiece option as a threat.

He specifically says, " I will AUTHORIZE them to surgically implant this transmitter into your ear".

Authorize, not ask them or tell them but AUTHORIZE.

That imples he has had to NOT authorize previous District 13 demands. Just like in the Capitol with breast enhancement surgery.

Few pages back, Asterid says how she didn't know Katniss was going to 8 till she was already gone. And Katniss goes, I'm sorry I'll ask them to clear everything with you.

And asterid replies, "Katniss no one clears anything from me".

Asterid is not Katniss' Legal Guardian anymore, Haymitch is. He has been running around for god knows how long keeping her safe and sane.

The I wonder is he the reason Katniss got discharged from the hospital while Finnick stays in a drug haze?

Is he the reason they leave her be when she doesn't follow schedule?

Is he the reason they let her hide in pipes and closets?

And I'm reminded of lil Haymitch taking care of even littler children during his games. Wondering why they all come to him. And he's fails to keep any one of them alive.

Except Katniss. That's a daughter thrusted to him. And he's trying so fucking hard to not let her die too.

I'm gonna go cry now

#why do all the little ones stick to me

[taddymason]

It's sad, but I think that in DR, Lloyd will be the one of the entire group who will have the most problems bonding with Jay. Not only because they are polar opposites in the way they handle things (Jay is pragmatic and aggressive, outspoken, and takes the easiest option even if it's the least moral; Lloyd keeps his own problems in line, is dissociating a lot this season, handles his words carefully, and tries to be a pacifist), but also because both of Jay's relationships with his last leaders were shit. There's no way the guy will accept having a new leader anytime soon.

[dem0batz]

Love and Deep Charades

Sylus x MC!Reader // Love and Deepspace

Author's Note: This fic was inspired by a combination of Melodic Weave and Immobilized. I apologize for any pronoun switches. Between my various projects, I write in both 1st and 2nd POV and get them flip-flopped sometimes.

Summary: While away at a work retreat, you unexpectedly run into Sylus at a hotel resort on your way to a team bonding night with your co-workers. Unable to reveal the nature of your relationship, you introduce him under a false name to your co-workers. Taking the charade a step further, Sylus introduces himself as your new boyfriend, forcing you to play along and and right into his hands.

🔞Content Warnings: she/her MC!Reader, bratty!MC, Reverse Harem (MC!Reader is at various stages of dating the other LIs and they are mentioned in this fic), implied CNC, “tell me what you want”, teasing, fingering, biting, oral (->f), “good girl”, forced orgasms, multiple orgasms, overstim, “count for me”, pussy spanking, dacryphilia, PIV, orgasm denial, slight Daddy kink

Word Count: ~7k | Read on AO3 | OpaLADS Chapter List

“This is—Skye,” you blurt the first S-name that comes to mind.

Sylus raises a stark eyebrow in your direction, out of sight of your friends’ views with amusement flickering on his face.

“Skye, huh? I’m Tara.”

Your friend offers her hand, which Sylus accepts as she introduces him to the rest of the group. He graciously shakes everyone’s hands with a smile while you roll your eyes behind his broad back. Of course he would be charming and likable with them, while all he did was show up unexpectedly in your life and get on your nerves.

“So how do you know our beautiful, single friend?”

Subtle, Tara.

Though Sylus’s response is more of a surprise than her question.

“I’m her boyfriend.”

You don’t even have time to hide your look of shock, gaping like a fish as everyone turns to you for answers. Tara looks downright betrayed by the news.

Get in line, girl.

“You didn’t tell us you had a boyfriend! Especially one that’s so… tall,” she observes.

“Well,” Sylus purrs, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he pulls you to his side. Knowing you can’t push him away with your entire group of friends here without blowing his— and your— cover. “It’s new. In fact, I’m still trying to convince her to go on a third date with me but I think this one enjoys the thrill of being chased. Lucky for her, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

“You’re here now! Why don’t you join us, Skye? We reserved a room for karaoke.”

That makes you find your voice again.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s busy, right Skye? It’s such short notice and you mentioned having to work tonight.”

You give Sylus a tight smile that silently conveys Go with it or I’ll arrest you but he doesn’t seem to get the message as his toothy grin sharpens.

“I just finished up, actually so I’m all yours, kitten.”

“Kitten,” Tara squeals, practically melting on the spot. “You both are too cute. It’s settled then!”

As the group passes by to head for the reserved room, your friend leans in to whisper in your ear about how you owe her a girl’s night and tea. You shoot her a placating smile. Once the group is long out of earshot, you spin around to shove Sylus away, though his sturdy frame doesn’t budge an inch. That only serves to irritate you further.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you hiss.

“What do you mean, sweetie? I think that went rather well. Your friends like me,” he gloats.

Scoffing, you cross your arms to contain the burning irritation building in your chest.

“That’s because they don’t know who you really are. I should just arrest you now and save myself the trouble of this charade blowing up in my face.”

Sylus surprises you by resting his arm above your head to cage you against the wall, sucking the breath from your lungs as the two of you are left alone to linger in the resort hall. It’s actually insane how his bicep alone is practically the size of your head, and so is the way your body reacts to it, heart fluttering at the man’s massive frame.

“Then do it.”

“Wh-what?”

Though you try to maintain a semblance of control, your voice shakes. You want nothing more than to slap the cocky grin off his face but the psycho would probably interpret that as flirting.

“Every time we bump into one another, you threaten to arrest me. Fine, I surrender,” he offers his wrists. “What are you waiting for, kitten? This would be huge for your career.”

Your molars grind as you consider the various outcomes, trying to decipher if he’s being serious. Why would the most wanted criminal on two planets suddenly decide to give up his freedom so easily? Nothing Sylus did or said ever made sense. Every moment spent with the him made a swirl of dichotomous feelings bubble up inside you.

Upon first meeting one another, he kidnapped you for three days, even if you had gotten yourself into that situation intentionally. In that time he tried to force a resonance with you, tried to have your protocore illegally altered, and convinced you to shoot him. Only once you realized what you had done and a confusing flood of tears fell, did Sylus’s still form come to.

Surprisingly gently fingers swiped at your damp cheeks.

“Save your tears for the day you actually kill me,” he rasped.

A relief you had never known sunk your shoulders as you nuzzled into his hand, unsure why you had such a reaction to the perceived death of a stranger— a criminal whom you should have been relieved was gone. But it was only when you realized he was still alive that you felt like you could breath again.

Ever since, the dynamic between the two of you had been playful pursuit on his part and defiant resistance on yours, even as your body and soul begged you to give in. You simply could not get entangled with the leader of Onychinus that way.

So why was it so hard to do your job and accept the gift he was offering?

When you make no move to reach for your cuffs, Sylus chuckles, crowding you once more. His warm breath hits your ear, making your spine shiver.

“Well in that case, we should catch up to your friends. They’re waiting for us, sweetie.”

“His singing voice is… interesting,” Tara laughs politely. “It’s not what I would have expected after hearing him speak.”

She was being far too kind. Sylus’s singing was atrocious. His pitch was terrible, every note shaky at best as he tries to stay in tune with the music, completely butchering a beloved pop song for the entire bar. You would never be able to hear it the same way again after this performance, but the attempt was admirable. Even being easily the worst singer in the room, Sylus still kept getting up there with the confidence of a performer who had been doing this for decades.

The pity claps he received from the team after every song did nothing to humble his massive ego as he sauntered back to your table with a smoldering smirk. He returned to his seat to your left, draping his arm across the back of your chair and pulling you closer to tuck you under his arm like it’s where you belonged. He gulps what remains of the glass of whiskey he had been nursing, clearly thirsty after his third performance of the night

“Who’s next?” he asks.

“We actually need to get going. This is the last night of our retreat and most of us have a flight to catch in the morning. We’re leaving for a group mission that will have us out of town for another week,” your co-worker groans.

“Ahh, were you planning to tell me you would be out of town for so long, sweetie? Or were you just planning to leave me broken-hearted in the dark again?”

Sylus’s words are playful, but when he looks down at you, darkness shadows his eyes. Only an ominous twinkle of ruby red gleams from his right eye making him look like the danger you expect from someone like him.

Many of your co-workers at this retreat were partnered up together, but you were one of the few UNICORNS members who would not be joining the group for this mission. You might have been recommended had you been partnered up with a normal ranking member in your unit like the rest of your peers, but somehow you found yourself partnered with a special task hunter who was more often than not assigned to classified missions. You had been half-joking when you told the alumni you wanted to partner up with him, but the next day Captain Jenna announced teams and sure enough, you were paired with the most experienced hunter at the association.

Xavier was yet another mystery you often found yourself trying to solve.

He seemed perfectly normal for the most part, if not a little lazy when he wasn’t hunting Wanderers, but there were things about him that didn’t add up. So many vague answers about his time in the Association— how long he’s been employed there, how he had access to so much classified information, his knowledge about Wanderers and protocores that even Captain Jenna and the higher ups didn’t have.

There were just too many questions surrounding him, but you didn’t have enough evidence to outright accuse him of anything.

“Oh, she’s not,” Tara pipes in as she finishes her own drink and gathers her purse. “She and Xavier are usually on call for private missions that take precedence over group missions. So she’ll be heading back to Linkon.”

“Xavier? She hasn’t told me about him yet.”

“Oh he’s her association partner. Weirdly enough they live in the same apartment building too, but it’s close to work so I suppose it’s not that weird. One floor apart is such a coincidence though. He’s cute too. I’ve tried to convince her to set me up with him, but she always says he doesn’t date. To be honest, until we met you tonight, I thought maybe something was going on between the two of them. It’s like they’re always huddled up in their own little world.”

“Is that so?” Sylus raises an eyebrow at you.

Your face heats as you whip around to face your mouthy friend.

“I think you’ve had a few too many tonight, Tara.”

Right on cue, Tara hiccups and giggles.

“I think you may be right about that.”

She turns to bat her eyelashes at Nero, who you’re surprised agreed to come at all tonight, but he had the biggest heart-eyes for Tara so perhaps it wasn’t very surprising. After all, she was the one to convince him to join. Even with all of her talk about wanting to be set up with Xavier, you knew she had the biggest crush on Nero and was just frustrated with trying to pull him out of his shell.

“Nero, would you mind lending me an arm? I may need help walking back to my door.”

It’s almost endearing the way he fumbles with his words, then agrees to escort her back to the room you shared with her. When they stand to leave, Tara shoots you a wink that shows she knows exactly what she’s doing. You give her a quick wave and see off the rest of your team.

“Nice to meet you, Skye!”

Before you know it, you realize you and Sylus are the only ones who remain.

Your fingers tap the side of your leg, unsure where this leaves you. With Tara luring Nero back to your room, you wanted to stay as far away from there as possible for at least the next few hours, but that didn’t leave you with many options. It looked like you would be drinking alone and doing some solo karaoke for the foreseeable future.

A soft touch caresses the side of your forehead as Sylus toys with a piece of your hair.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, kitten?”

“Just thinking how I’m still hours away from being able to go to bed since Tara dragged Nero upstairs. We’re sharing a room,” you elaborate.

“Hmm, pity,” he says, pinching your chin between his thumb and finger as his lips tease over yours. “If only you knew someone with a private suite where you could hunker down for a few hours.”

Biting down on your bottom lip in thought, you make a mental list of all the reasons this would be a very bad idea. You could always blame it on the alcohol though, not that you had enough to reasonably justify what was sure to regret tomorrow but it was enough to lie to yourself about the fact that you wanted to go with him.

“I don’t know…”

“Just one drink, kitten,” he purrs, the intoxicating scent of top-shelf whiskey and his expensive musky cologne making you light-headed.

“M-maybe just one drink.”

Sylus gives you no time to back out of the invitation, leading you to the elevator where he has to insert a special key card to access the top floor. Your mouth gapes open as the doors slide open and you’re greeted with a foyer, open-concept kitchen, and lounge area with a hallway leading to various closed doors. Sylus tugs you inside by the hand then sends the elevator back down, leaving you truly alone with him. Now that there was no escape, he leaves you to look around with wide eyes as he starts the kettle.

“This is not what I imagined when you mentioned a private suite. This is a freaking penthouse, Sylus.”

He reaches for the dark wood-stained cabinets, broad back expanding beneath the tight black button-up he was wearing. You were shocked it didn’t rip at the seams with the movement. He pulls out ingredients for tea, not the something stronger you had been expecting.

“As the owner, I’m entitled to certain privileges.”

“The owner?” you squeak. “You own this resort?”

With a shrug as he tops off the cups with steaming water, sliding one across the counter toward you with a clink.

“It’s just a small business I happen to own. Drink up, sweetie. I want you sober.”

Your nerves get the better of you, so you grab the cup for something to do with your hands. Blowing on the cup, you sip down the beverage, warmth settling the twisting in your gut as you swallow it down.

While your nerves had been tangling up inside your body, Sylus leaned casually against the cabinet on the other side of the island, watching you so calmly like he could do it for days without getting bored as he finished his own tea. After a while, you couldn’t take the silence anymore, putting your empty cup down and running a nervous hand over your hair.

“Now what?”

Sylus takes his time gathering and rinsing your empty cups then drying his hands before rounding the kitchen island to lean against it. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he takes his sweet time tracing the dips and curves of your body with his eyes. The leisurely appraisal has your abdomen clenching in anticipation, making warmth bubble under your skin.

“Now,” he rumbles, voice low and steady— commanding without raising in volume. “Now you’re going to slide down your panties and lay on the couch for me like a good little kitten so I can pet you the way you deserve.” His teasing smile ticks at at the corner. "You can even scratch if you’d like and pretend you don't want it."

Your thighs begin to tremble as you press them together, cursing yourself for deciding to wear a dress tonight as the skin glides together, sticky with your essence. The whole night you were able to pretend that Sylus had no effect on you, but now your traitorous body was making it difficult to deny.

Heels lightly scrape against rug as you slowly back away, putting some distance between the two of you so you can gather the resolve to thank him for the tea and walk out of this penthouse to return to the semi-professional relationship you had with the Onychinus leader. Once this door was opened, it would be very hard to close again.

“Back up allll you want. I’ll close the distance soon enough,” he sings as his wide steps bring him closer.

The backs of your knees collide with the dark leather couch cushion, leaving you nowhere else to go as Sylus makes good on his promise. His large palms settle on your hips, drawing you so slowly and carefully to him like a predator luring it’s prey into a false sense of safety. Your hands instinctively grasp for his bulging, muscular arms, reminding you yet again just how large he is. Taking one of your hands in his own, he drapes yours into his palm as he brushes light kisses across the knuckles.

“Are you going to be a good sweet girl and hand them over willingly? Or do you want me to take them for you?”

You shake your head, words stuck in your throat as a fresh gush dampens your thighs. It’s been so long since you’ve had someone take control like this. When Caleb died, so did your ability to submit. Not that there were many opportunities to do so.

You were stuck in a weird limbo with Zayne where it felt like neither of you were willing to penetrate the bubble of attraction you had for one another. Like you had to remain in the friend zone out of respect for your late brother. With Xavier, the two of you were more likely to paw at one another’s clothing and tumble into bed together than play games like this. And as for Rafayel, things with him were new enough that you were still figuring out what you like with him, though more times than not he allowed you to take the lead.

Sylus, however, gave a command and waited for you response. Waited for your submission. Whether you gave it willingly or wanted him to force it from you, like he just knew it was what you needed. You fight the urge to be combative and do as he asks, to be good for him. But you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be good. You wanted to fight. You missed the feeling of having choices made for you, of being held down and forced to take whatever was given. For your own good or his own pleasure, you didn’t care.

“Take them,” you finally whisper, words barely audible over the soft jazz drifting from the record player.

“Where are your manners, sweetie? In polite society, we ask for what we want.”

You lick your lips, fighting the urge to quip back with a smart reply. You needed him to touch you more than you needed your pride right now. “Sylus, will you please take my panties and anything else you want from me tonight?”

“Smart girl,” he whispers with a beastly smile. “You’re such a good girl telling me exactly what you want. I will take everything I want from you because I know it’s what you need. It certainly won’t be just for tonight though because I do in fact want everything, kitten.”

One of his large arms wraps around you as his nose finds the juncture between shoulder and neck, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath and filling his lungs with your aroma. Your knees tremble, knocking together. It likely would have had you collapsing if not for the iron grip around your waist. His teeth scrape the juncture near your collarbone like he wanted to sink them in, but with great effort trailed his lips up your neck instead, tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You feel yourself sinking into his sturdy hold, lightheaded and too warm to support yourself.

Finally, Sylus’s lips find yours in a dizzying kiss. One you had been longing for since your brief stay in the N109 Zone after your “kidnapping”. The material of his shirt bunches in your fist as you deepen the kiss, your tongue swiping across the seam of his surprisingly soft lips. The moment your tongues touch, you sigh into his mouth with a mewl, savoring the taste of whiskey and tea on his tongue. 

In a move too quick for you to react, your back hits the expensive couch cushion as Sylus devours your mouth. One knee sinks between the two of yours, sliding further up until a thick, hard thigh hits your core. The pressure of Sylus’s thigh has you gasping into his mouth only to be swallowed up by his invasive kisses.

Before you know it, you’re spiraling under his touch and grinding out an unexpected orgasm on his thigh. It makes your ears ring, muffling even the sound of ripping fabric as your center is bared to the cool air while this beast of a man tosses the shreds of your panties onto the coffee table.

“You tore my—”

“Shhh, keep being good for me, sweetie.”

Sylus makes his way down your body until his knees hit the rug and he wedges his broad shoulders between your legs. Your knees are practically pressed to your chest with the way he has you spread out before him. The tip of his nose passes lightly through your slit as he deeply inhales the scent of you, savoring you like a finely aged wine before flicking his tongue out for just a taste. It was enough to make you feel insane and touch starved. Even with one orgasm under your belt, it didn’t help relieve any of the need for him to touch you for real.

“Sylus,” you whine, wiggling your hips in an attempt to sway him to stop teasing you. Your fingers intertwine with his as you try to pull him closer to where you need him most. 

“You’re a desperate, impatient little thing, aren’t you, kitten?” he chuckles against your slick core.

He continues lapping at you leisurely with just the tip of his tongue, apparently not feeling the same sense of urgency you were. Enough stimulation for you to know he’s there and to keep you on edge, but not enough to soothe the madness building within you.

“If you’re not going to stop teasing me and just freaking do it I’ll call someone who will.”

The threat is out of your mouth before you can stop it, your frustration tumbling out with it. In all fairness, you tried to be good for him but you have never been the type to just roll over and take it. It wasn’t in your nature.

A heavy sigh blows hotly against your center, making you squirm more though you wonder if you pushed too far. However when your eyes crack open and look at the man between your thighs, you’re met with a monstrous grin and a heated gaze. That eye of his, the one with the aether core, lightens and sparkles like a ruby in the dark.

“Oh, kitten. I am going to have so much fun teaching you some manners.”

Sylus’s back straightens as he rises to his knees and his mouth gets further away from where it had been, pulling another whine from your lips.

You had been bluffing… mostly.

If you had been in Linkon you wouldn’t have hesitated to knock on Xavier’s door in the middle of the night to scratch the itch Sylus was taking his sweet time to tend to, but truth be told you didn’t want to be anywhere else tonight but right here. You just wanted Sylus to finally give you what you had been craving from him. The sooner you fucked the Onychinus leader out of your system and could get back to hating him, the better.

You move to rise up and follow him but find yourself pinned in this position as if you were tied down. It felt like your arms were strapped to the leather couch and your calves tied to your thighs by invisible ropes. No matter how much you struggle, you can’t budge. The swirling red and black mist prove as much and you look back up at the man with big wet eyes, trying to plead to his developing soft side for you.

“I’m sorry, Sylus. I didn’t mean it. I-I just, you feel so good and I couldn’t take the teasing anymore. Please. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry already, kitten? Your lesson hasn’t even begun yet.”

His large, warm palms slide down the undersides of your exposed thighs, wrenching them apart wider and wider, your restraints tightening with them until you were left spread open and exposed. Your face gets unbearably hot with mortification when you feel your vulva parts from the position he put you in and a stream of warm liquid trails out. Sylus scoops it up with his finger just to lean over and gloss your lips with your own juices.

His lips graze over yours, barely touching as he whispers against them.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll take care of you. You’ll get the release you’re so desperate for. There’s no need to call in reinforcements from that partner of yours.”

His words are almost enough to have your jaw dropping in surprise but it’s quickly overtaken by a dizzying kiss as he licks the flavor from your lips. It leaves you lightheaded and wondering just what you got yourself into as his attention returns to your now dripping center. Those long, talented fingers swipe through your folds in search of your throbbing clit.

“I want you to keep count, kitten.”

“Keep count?” you moan in confusion just as his finger begins to work around the bundle of nerves.

You had already been so close to your next peak with the constant teasing from the night leading up to now that it took no time at all of feeling his bare skin on yours to send you careening over the edge.

At the tail end of the orgasm, a cry rips from your lips as he smacks your exposed clit with the pads of his fingers.

“That’s two,” he says, now lightly pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger.

Meanwhile, his free hand works at freeing your breasts. They spill over the top of your dress but the position he has you locked in keeps them pressed tightly together.

At the same time he pinches one of your nipples, his middle finger slides inside you. Finding no resistance he adds another, stretching you out from the inside in search of that sweet spot within while his thumb continues to tease circles around your bud.

You barely have time to think as he pushes you toward another release, riding on the coat tails of the others. The bite to your breast is what throws you over this time, the mingling of the pain and overwhelming pleasure complimenting one another. With his fingers still inside, Sylus lands another smack to your clit with his other hand.

“Do I need to remind you to count?”

In the moment it takes your mind to catch up to his request, he lands another two smacks to your pussy.

“Three! That’s three,” you scream.

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs, kneeling between your legs.

Freeing his thumb, his mouth takes over the assault on your clit, sending you to the edge over and over again, each one followed by a smack to your clit until you’re begging him to stop.

“Sylus, please! F-five. Sylus! Sylus!”

The fiend that he is, keeps going, pulling more orgasms from you until you lose count.

You don’t even know how long he has been at this, but you think he would go all night if he could and that he merely decided to take pity on you when the tears began in earnest.

“Shhhh, I know, kitten,” he murmurs against your lips, licking the tears from your damp cheek. “You’re such a good girl. I know you’re tired but I think you have one more for me. I need to feel it for myself.”

You shake your head in denial but the feeling of his tip swiping through your soaked, glistening folds to press against your quivering center has you stalling your protests. In all this time, he still hadn’t even given you his cock yet and exhausted as you were, you didn’t go through all of his torment tonight to not have the one thing you wanted all along.

A raspy sigh spills from your lips as he slowly slides in with a pleasurable groan of his own. Your walls envelop him like it was exactly where he was meant to be. You find that your legs are no longer held by invisible chains, cramps shooting through them from being pinned in such a position for so long, but the moment they wrap around his waist you breath a sigh of relief as it allows him to sink in further.

Though you hadn’t seen it for yourself, you could tell how well endowed Sylus was. What would normally be a tight fit any other day was barely a blip in your mind, as entrapped as you were with the overstimulating pleasure/pain he had been drawing from you.

“I’ve waited centuries to have you like this again,” he murmurs, linking his fingers with yours above your head.

Just as you gain the mental clarity to ask what he means, Sylus pulls his hips back to slam them against yours, making you completely forget the odd sweet nothings he whispered in your ear. Setting a pace that has you both panting and breathing one another in, he pounds into you as if trying to bury himself into your very soul. Your linked fingers tighten against one another as you hold on for the ride, your nails digging into the backs of his hands as his mouth finds yours. The kiss so gentle compared to the brutal way his body was claiming yours.

“One more for me, my heart. Please,” he pleads against your lips with a trembling voice, so uncharacteristic of his usual smug confidence yet so endearing.

You don’t even have the ability to deny him, nodding your head along to his request as you take his mouth for yourself this time, swiping your tongue across the crease to seek his out. One of his hands remains interlinked with yours as the other winds around your back, pulling you flush to him in a way that has his mound grinding against you.

Having been brought to the edge so many times this evening already, you were so sensitive to his touch, the rough brush of his pubic hair stimulating your abused clit until you tighten and gush around his length. Losing all sense of sight, sound, and touch, you cry out for your dragon, the words completely escaping you unbidden.

“That’s it. Give into it. To us. Find your way back to me, my soul,” he babbles, hips stuttering as he finds his own release within you.

You awake to complete darkness and the feeling of a large, extremely warm nude body wrapped tightly around you. A flood of memories from the night before come rushing in and you silently curse yourself into oblivion for staying the night with Sylus instead of making your way back to your own room like you had intended. It wasn’t entirely your fault though seeing as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you until your body was limp and useless. You couldn’t have even walked to the restroom by yourself, let alone find your room on a completely different floor.

Which begs the question of how you ended up in his bed when the last thing you remembered was losing consciousness on his couch. Sylus must have carried you to his bed afterward and then entangled himself with you to prevent you from escaping.

A quick glance at the digital clock on the nightstand indicates it’s still fairly early but late enough for the sun to be out. Your team would be gathering for breakfast in the lobby by now which would give you just enough time to get to your room undetected and showered before Tara returned to pack up and check out. If only you could figure out how to get out from underneath this behemoth of a man without waking him up.

It turns out to be easier than expected because he was sleeping like the dead. Unlike during your three days in the N109 Zone when he sent you on a scavenger hunt for the brooch and could be awoken with barely a nudge, Sylus doesn’t budge when you carefully squirm out from underneath his arm and swap yourself with a pillow. He hugs the red silk tighter with an unintelligible murmur and a sigh before his body relaxes and his breathing evens back out.

With a slow exhale of relief, you make quick work of gathering your clothes. Unfortunately all that survived were your dress and boots, which had been scattered about the living room around the couch. It looked like a beast flew through and trashed the place. Slipping into your boots, you grimace at the sight of your shredded panties hanging over the edge of the coffee table, pouting a bit on the inside because you really liked those pair.

There wasn’t time to dwell though. The state of Sylus’s apartment wasn’t your concern— escaping it before he awoke was.

Thankfully there were no hiccups between taking the elevator down to your floor and getting into your room. As expected, Tara was nowhere to be seen and you sent a silent thanks to the sky for small miracles. Your friend was entirely too perceptive and would no doubt have questions you weren’t ready to answer.

It didn’t feel great, but you hoped to be packed up and gone before she returned. It was still a bit too early but you didn’t mind waiting around at the airport for your flight. Your co-workers would be at a completely different terminal since they were heading straight for their next mission’s destination so there would be no chance of running into any of them there. 

Just as you complete your post-shower routine and slip into a bathrobe to finish drying, you hear a knock at the door. With a silent groan, you berate yourself for not putting the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob so that housekeeping would skip your room for the time being, but you weren’t exactly at your best right now. Thoughts of the previous night with the dangerous criminal that you should be arresting instead of sleeping with plague your mind.

Hair still wet, you unlock the door and swing it open.

“I’m sorry, but we’re not ready to be serviced ye—”

You look up to be met with glittering crimson eyes and an all-too-familiar tilted smirk.

“And yet here I am, ready to serve,” Sylus hums as his hungry graze trails over your robe and he stalks toward you like a predator.

The robe covered you well enough but his perusal of your body made you feel totally nude all over again. Your feet subconsciously carry you toward the first bed until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. It knocks you back into reality, reminding you that what happened last night was a one time thing. It had to be.

Despite the heat burning beneath your skin, you clear your throat and cross your arms under your chest in what you hoped was authoritative.

“Did you need something? My flight is in a few hours so I’m on a bit of a time crunch this morning.”

His eyes narrowed on you as if he knew you were lying about the urgency of your departure, but he doesn’t call you out on it. Instead he nods his head and holds up a shopping bag with a designer logo on the front. You eye the bag suspiciously, your gaze darting between it and him in question.

“To replace the pair I… confiscated,” he clarifies.

Accepting the bag with hesitation, you peek in to find not just one but several pairs of panties that probably cost most than your entire apartment.

“I-I can’t accept this,” you stammer, pushing the bag against his chest, urging him to take it back. “This is worth far more than the pair I lost and too much of a gesture for what last night was.”

That’s when you notice the swirling red mist cuffing the two of you together at the wrist.

This Evol linkage had the worst freaking timing!

Of course Sylus doesn’t take back the shopping bag or seem to care about the proverbial cuffs holding you hostage to one another. Instead, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his body until the bag is wedged tightly between you.

“And what exactly was last night, sweetie?” he purrs.

It was hard to think when he was this close with his all-seeing eyes and too-intoxicating cologne. This was exactly what had gotten you into this mess in the first place.

“I-it—”

Tara’s voice sounds through the door at the exact moment the handle jiggles as she tells whoever she’s with that she’ll only be a minute. My eyes widen in panic but Sylus is quick on his feet as he drags us into the closet and pulls the door shut behind us. The sound of two sets of footsteps enter the room.

“She’s still not back yet?” I hear our co-worker Simone ask.

“I think our friend may have gotten swept up in that fruit vendor’s charm,” Tara giggles. “Good for her though. She’s always so focused on work that she doesn’t ever go on dates. She deserves a night of debauchery with one of the hottest men I think I’ve ever seen.”

Sylus looks down as me with that smug smirk still in place as he brings a finger to his lips, urging my silence as if I would say anything to give us away.

This was a total nightmare scenario.

“Do you see my coat anywhere?”

“Check the closest,” Simone suggests.

Sensing my panic, Sylus pulls me closer to muffle my increasingly heavy breathing against his casual white sweater. The flimsy closet doors begin to rattle as someone tugs on it from the other side but it doesn’t budge. A quick glance shows Sylus holding it closed with a single hand.

Your grip tightens at his waist, clenching the fabric of his shirt anxiously between your fingers. Sylus leans down, reminding you of the tight quarters you found yourselves in and filling your head with his scent. His voice is hot on your ear, barely audible over the rushing sound from within.

“All this just to keep me a dirty little secret? I’m hurt, kitten.”

“That’s weird. I think it’s jammed,” Tara says, giving up on the door.

“Oh wait, is this it? Your phone started vibrating underneath it.”

Tara’s voice moves further away.

“That’s not my phone. Oh! She must have come back while we were at breakfast, the sneaky minx. Maybe she finally went down to get a bite and forgot to take it with her. Come on! I want time to question her before we have to leave and she’s more likely to let something slip before coffee.”

Your head whips toward the door at the news that my phone was ringing. Just about everyone who would call me where on this trip. Xavier and Rafayel were no doubt still asleep at this time of day and things were still awkward with Zayne so he only called when medically necessary. So that left you wondering who it could possibly be or if perhaps it was an emergency. Before you can sprint out of the closet to check— Tara and Simone long gone by now— you're tugged backward against the hard body trapped in here with you.

Right, the linkage.

“Don’t worry, it was an unknown number,” Sylus assures, holding up his phone to show an active call to Kitten with a photo of you that was certainly not taken with your knowledge. His head tilts back wistfully as he looks down at the screen, studying the image. “I’m not in the mood to reveal our relationship right now.”

Hanging up the call, he tucks the phone into his pocket.

Okay, you really needed to set some boundaries with him before this got out of hand.

“There is no relationship. We hooked up one time, Sylus.”

You yelp in surprise as he spins you around so that now you're the one leaning against the wall as he pins you there.

Tilting his head to the side, his gaze finds the gap at the top of my robe, entranced. As if unable to help himself, he leans in to drag his nose between your breasts to inhale your freshly showered scent and presses a kiss to the giant bruise left behind on the mound from him the night before. Just like last night, his teeth trail upward, finding their way to the juncture at your neck just above the collarbone, scraping over the skin as they sink in. It’s not enough to draw blood, but plenty to have you panting for more and to leave another mark. At the same time, his sneaky fingers find their way under the robe to pet between your legs.

“You know what I think, sweetie?” he whispers in your ear as he starts to work you up.

Unable to find the words while his magic fingers caress you, you shake my head in response.

Sylus leisurely parts you with his middle finger to begin swirling my clit in the same maddening way he did before, making all rational thoughts leave your mind as your body concedes to his pleasure. Your eyes roll back as you chase the edge he’s pushing you toward.

“I think you like me a lot more than you’ll admit to yourself. In fact,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck while the pressure of his finger on me increases, making your heart patter in my chest. “I think you more than like me.”

Just as you're right there, he withdraws his fingers to put space between you. It’s only when the devil brings his wet fingers to his lips and sucks them into his mouth to taste you that I realize the linkage has broken.

“Call me when you’re ready to be a good pet and ask for me to finish what we started here. My contact info will be in your phone.”

With that, Sylus leaves you stunned and throbbing in the closet to catch your breath and trying to figure out what the hell just happened. By the time you pull myself together and walk out into the room, he’s long gone and the bag of panties is sitting prettily on the edge of your bed next to your phone. The screen lights up, drawing my attention and making you scoff at the text preview on the home screen.

Daddy: Don’t forget to call, kitten. Until then, behave. 

OpaLADS Taglist: @i-messed-up-big-time @sorryimakira @dummiebunny @zaynessdarling

[junesirius]

love Bobby Cas relationship so much, headcanon is Bobby is the very first person of all of them to know Dean and Cas are deeply deeply bonded loved needed each other or whatever deepest human emotions can describe them

some most memorable moments: s5 “Are you really gonna bitch to ME?”; s6 “We fighting or running?” then catch a passed-out angel (who decides when he’s severely wounded and needs protection, he goes to Bobby) and let him tap his soul; s6 it pains Bobby as much as Dean to think Cas might be working with Crowley; finale he HAS TO specifically tell Dean Cas is ok to let his mind in peace

Sometimes wondered about that finale passing line if it’s true, like, I had been thinking maybe Bobby was just trying to make Dean happy and he knows Dean wouldn’t be if Cas is not safe, so there is a chance Cas maybe not back but Bobby lied to Dean. But second thought tells me Bobby love (adopted) them both so he would know that would hurt Dean more if he ever learns the truth, so he wouldn’t ever lie about Cas to him, so Cas must be really back.

Anyway, somehow that makes the pairing in late seasons Mary/apocalypse world Bobby a lot better to accept. Like, the John she married to was a good kind gentle man, and after she came back (as a 20s), she falls for the same loving gentle man (broken even more version), but still, father figure for the kids (that are 40s).

not enough people talk about bobby and cas. bobby was like “ughhh now i have to adopt my adopted son’s gay boyfriend” and then he did so with pride

[sleepdeprivedf1fan]

The Race of Hearts

———

———

The sun hung high over Miami, its rays shimmering off the turquoise waters of the Atlantic. The vibrant city buzzed with excitement, the air laced with the scent of salty sea breeze and the hum of anticipation for the Grand Prix. Lando Norris, the rising star of Formula 1, had arrived in this lively city not just as a competitor but also with a heart full of mixed emotions.

A year ago, he had stood on that very podium, champagne spraying into the air as he celebrated his stunning victory. But this year felt different. As he walked through the bustling paddock, he couldn't shake the anxiety that gnawed at him. What if he didn’t perform as well? What if the pressure got to him? The weight of expectations felt heavier this time around, but there was a lightness in his heart that he couldn’t ignore.

Just a few weeks ago, he had met you, and after a whirlwind of charming dates filled with laughter and shared stories, he had asked you to be his girlfriend. Your acceptance had brought him an unexpected joy, a grounding presence amidst the chaos of the racing world. As the sun set over the Miami skyline, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, he felt a sense of calm wash over him when he thought of you.

“Hey, Lando!” You called out, waving from the side of the track as he strolled out of his team’s garage. Your smile lit up the evening, and he felt his heart race—not from the adrenaline of racing but from the warmth and affection he felt for you.

“Hey!” He replied, jogging over to you. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I wanted to soak in the atmosphere before the madness starts,” you replied, your eyes sparkling with excitement. “And I figured I could use a little Lando time before you get all serious and focused.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair. “You might be disappointed; I’m pretty serious during race week.”

“Maybe, but I like seeing you like this. Relaxed. It’s nice to see the real you,” you said, leaning against the barrier, your gaze unwavering.

“Thanks, that means a lot.” He took a moment to breathe, realizing how much he appreciated your presence. “I’ve been feeling a bit anxious about the race. I mean, how do you top a win?”

You tilted your head, concern knitting your brows. “Just focus on what you can control. You’ve trained hard, and you’ve got the skills. Just do what you love.”

“I just wish I could shake this feeling,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if I don’t perform as well? What if I let everyone down?”

You stepped closer, placing a supportive hand on his arm. “You’re not just a race car driver, Lando. You’re so much more than that. And even if the race doesn’t go as planned, I’ll still be here cheering you on.”

Her words were like a soothing balm, easing the tension in his chest. “You’re right. I have to remember what really matters. Thank you for being here.”

The two of you stood in comfortable silence, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as you both shared a moment of connection. The world felt right, and Lando realized how grateful he was to have you by his side.

As the days unfolded, the anxiety lingered, but so did your unwavering support. You attended team meetings, watched practice sessions, and even shared meals with him, bringing laughter and lightness to the long days filled with racing. Each time he saw you in the paddock, it reminded him of what he was racing for—not just for victory, but for the joy of this new relationship blossoming in the backdrop of his high-octane life.

Finally, race day dawned, the sun rising over the city like a hopeful new beginning. Lando stood on the grid, heart racing, not just from the anticipation of the race but also from the thought of you watching from the stands. As the cars roared to life and the lights began to flicker, he took a deep breath, reminding himself of your words.

The race was intense, filled with adrenaline-fueled moments, strategic maneuvers, and the thrill of competition. Lando fought hard, navigating through tight corners and pushing his car to its limits. Every lap reminded him of the stakes, but your presence lingered in his mind as a beacon of strength.

As he crossed the finish line, the world erupted in cheers. He had finished in a respectable position, not quite the top step of the podium, but enough to hold his head high. As he peeled off his helmet, the sound of the roaring crowd faded, and all he could think about was finding you.

He spotted you in the crowd, waving enthusiastically, and his heart swelled with pride and joy. You rushed toward him, eyes shining with excitement. The moment he reached you, he pulled you into a tight embrace, lifting you off the ground as you both laughed.

“I’m so proud of you!” you exclaimed, your voice filled with genuine happiness. “You did amazing!”

“Thanks! It wasn’t the win, but I gave it my all,” he replied, still holding you close. “And having you here made it so much better.”

You pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. “I believe in you, Lando. You’re going to keep getting better and better. This was just one race.”

He smiled, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over him. “I couldn’t have done it without your support. Seriously, you’re my lucky charm.”

Your cheeks flushed, and he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you looked in that moment—radiant and full of life. “Lucky charm, huh? Maybe I should start charging you for my services.”

He laughed, the sound echoing in the excitement of the evening. “No way! You’re priceless to me.”

As the festivities continued around you, Lando took your hand, intertwining your fingers. “Can we take a moment just for us? Away from all this?” He gestured to the celebration surrounding you.

“Of course,” you replied, leading him away from the chaos, toward a quieter spot overlooking the ocean. The waves crashed rhythmically against the shore, a soothing soundtrack to the evening.

“I know this race wasn’t what we’d hoped for, but I’m just so glad to have shared it with you,” he admitted, looking out at the horizon. “You make everything feel so much lighter.”

“I’m glad I could be a part of this journey with you,” you said softly. “And I’ll be here for every step, every race, no matter the outcome.”

Lando turned to face you, a serious expression crossing his face. “I want you to know how much you mean to me. This past month has been incredible, and I can’t imagine going through this without you.”

His heart raced, the moment feeling monumental. “I know we haven’t been together long, but I feel something really special with you. It’s like you’ve unlocked a part of me that I didn’t know was there.”

You searched his eyes, a smile creeping onto your lips. “I feel it too, Lando. You’ve brought so much joy into my life, and I can’t wait to see where this goes.”

He took a step closer, his heart pounding with anticipation. “So, what do you think about making it official? I mean, I know we already are, but I want to ask you properly. Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and delight, and he felt his own excitement bubble over. “Yes! Yes, I would love that!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him.

In that moment, the world around you faded away. The cheers of fans, the flashing lights of cameras, and the bustling paddock all ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, connected by a shared heartbeat and the promise of a beautiful future.

Lando pulled back slightly, looking deep into your eyes. “I’m serious about this. I want to make memories with you, not just as a driver but as a person.”

“And I want to be there for every moment,” you replied, your voice steady and sincere. “Whether it’s celebrating wins or navigating the challenges, I’m all in.”

With that, Lando felt a wave of relief wash over him. The anxiety that had gripped him since arriving in Miami began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of purpose and love that filled the gaps in his heart. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, the warmth of your connection igniting a fire within him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of purple and gold, Lando knew he had found something truly special. The road ahead might be uncertain, filled with twists and turns just like the racing tracks he loved, but with you by his side, he felt ready to embrace whatever came next.

And as the stars began to twinkle above, he could already hear the distant roar of engines, a reminder that the race of hearts was just beginning.

[one-beer-is-not-enough]

I'm finally posting my first bully OC! I'm planning to draw his siblings and parents too. Huge lore dump and quotes after the outfits. Also would love interactions, asks or anything :DD

The preps' pet freak

Started working as their cleaner and errand boy because his father refused to give him any money. Nobody believed his family was rich at first

Was homeschooled poorly and regularly abused by his father after his mother's passing, so he's socially stunted. Super blunt and rude

"I could buy your house if I wanted to" <- $0.2 in his wallet

A simp for Derby. Exhibits kicked-puppy levels of pathetic

They accepted him into the clique because Derby said so <- hated Marcel's guts at first but slowly got attached. Host and parasite type of relationship except they're both the parasite lol

Silly character sheet!! The outfits and lore under the cut:

You will quickly notice that my style is even more inconsistent than my upload frequency :)

Anyway, some bits of lore:

Beefing with Bif (haha), who routinely annihilates him during boxing matches. Marcel throws rocks at him after

He's great at cards and gambling in general. Dreams of owning a casino when he's older. Unfortunately, his father will force him down the lawyer or surgeon career path to help in his line of work

His sister Sofia is a jock and cheerleader. She's a monster at dodgeball. They have a fierce sibling-rivalry, but they team up to protect their younger brother Rafael

Marcel likes drawing, but sucks big time at it + is delusional about his skill

Obsessed with old gangster movies, huge Robert de Niro fanboy. Verbal tics: 'wise-guy' and 'marone'. Only knows a bit of broken Italian, because his grandparents emigrated to the US before his father was born

One time Damon was harassing Tad by the fountain. Marcel, because of pent-up stress, crash-tackled Damon into the water and proceeded to pummel his face 'til he busted the jock's nose. It's been on sight with their clique ever since. Sofia essentially maintains the peace when he's on their turf

Commiserates with Tad about family to the point they become close friends

Wanted to join the greasers at first, but got called a poser. Has a bad grade in shop class because he's constantly paranoid about getting jumped

Hates the nerds because some of them stalked and leered over Sofia. Also because they remind him of how weak he used to feel

The bullies kept folding him in his first couple of weeks before he had the revelation that he's on equal grounds with other students and can actually defend himself unlike back home

Befriended the local homeless guys. Broke into a liquor store once for the drunk Santa in exchange for a few bucks

He's on pretty good terms with the townies since they're his alcohol and cigarette suppliers. Most of them can't stand his prep status, though

Their father owns a hotel chain but the siblings are sure it's a front for money laundering. It became obvious when feds would show up at their doorstep with warrants, and shady men came around the house to drop off envelopes full of cash. Any last doubts were erased when Marcel tried to steal from a store once, but got caught by an officer on patrol. He let Marcel off with a mild warning and asked him to say 'hello' to Mr. D'Argento

Sneaks into the library at night to play Mafia I. Got stuck on the car race mission for weeks

Got arrested a few times but his father has the whole police department and school faculty bribed, so he gets away 'without consequences' (He always gets paid a 'visit' after being released)

Blasts Sinatra and Dean Martin albums at night, annoying absolutely everyone

Some in-game quotes:

"Do that again and see what happens, wise-guy."

"Will the alarms go off if I smoke in class?"

(Quoting de Niro) "You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me?"

"I hope Derby likes these flowers… Whatever they are."

(Losing) "Ugh... Fighting is all you Neanderthals know anyway!"

"I think Bif put itching powder in my gloves again…"

"Maron', now I have to wash all my clothes, you stupid idiot!"

"Oh man, I should play cards with the bullies again. Robbed 'em blind last month."

"Gord and Pinky dragged me to Aquaberry the other day. They made me carry their bags. Again."

"Derby bought me this watch. He's wonderful, isn't he?... Huh? What was that?... Yeah, it better be 'nothing'!"

"Hal threw a wrench at my head in shop class today!"

(Requesting errand) "Listen, I can't actually pay you for this-- Hey, where are you going?"

(Starting fight with greaser) "I can smell that cheap hairspray a mile away."

(Starting a fight with jock) "You want your nose broken too?"

(Starting fight with nerd) "Ever heard of deodorant, Einstein?"

"Sniffle Please don't send me back home... Sobbing"

"You'll never make anyone proud, you pathetic loser!"

If anyone stuck around to this point, thank you for taking the time to read through :D I have a lot more to post about this creature, like relationship charts, theme song, in-game portrait etc (I swear I'm normal) And again, would be super excited for interactions and even art with you guys' ocs!!!

[selfindulgenceisthekey]

i would love to see the readers relationship with the other members of the crew before her running away to see some platonic yan strawhats in action and to establish the readers personality/charater traits

oooo I love this ask! this ended up both longer and shorter than anticipated, and I fear it doesn't quite hit what I was going for, but I hope you enjoy this <3

The warmth of her hands holding yours made you all too aware that you couldn’t recall the last time someone had done something like this for you. She was meticulous, tongue poking out ever so slightly as she focused, each brush stroke done with percision. 

“And done,” She sat back, a proud smile on her face, as you brought your hand up to inspect your nails.

Four of the five nails on each of your hands had been painted a dark blue, coated in something that made them shine in the sunlight. Your pinky nails, however, were painted a fiery orange. 

“Now don’t move your hands around too much,” She instructed, shifting so she could begin painting her own nails, “I don’t want you messing up all my hard work.”

You gingerly laid your hands down, palms flat against your thighs. “They look cute.”

She snorted, eyes never straying from her hands, “Of course they do, I’m an expert, I’ll have you know. Even managed to paint Zoro’s nails one night when he was asleep.”

You couldn’t help but snort at the image of Nami sneaking her way near a sleeping Zoro, quietly and slowly painting each of his nails while he snored. “What color did you choose?”

“Every color I had,” She paused her movements, looking up at you with a smug look, “His hands look like he dipped them in a rainbow for a week.”

“He just let you get away with it?” 

She waved your question off almost lazily, “He acts like he’s some tough macho-guy, but he’s a real big softy for the crew. He started to yell at me, but then Chopper saw them and got excited, and then Luffy and then Usopp, and he just accepted his fate.”

She was far quicker doing her own nails than she had been with yours, already on her second hand as she told you the story.

“You could start a side job,” You suggested, half-joking, “Imagine how many people would pay to have their nails done by Cat Burglar Nami?”

“Ooh,” There were stars in her eyes as she considered the thought, “I could charge people a shit ton.”

A startled laugh escaped you, and you tried to smother it while also doing your best not to smudge your nails. “You’d be painting nails while running away from the marines!”

“I could do their nails too,” She shrugged, “Though they’d be fined a lot more than your average person.”

It was comfortable sitting on the deck with her. The sun was warm on your skin, the breeze was cool, the taste of salt lingered not uncomfortably. You could hear the rest of the crew in different areas, Zoro was at a distance, arms crossed as he napped in a sunny spot, Chopper curled up in his lap.

Sanji was up in the galley, the scent of lunch wafting through the air. God how you wished you could get used to this. This type of life is one you had only dreamed of, and you’d store moments like these to dream of later.

“Ta-da!” 

Nami held her hands up, nails facing you. Four of her five nails were painted that same fiery orange, while her pinkies were the same shade of blue on your nails. Careful not to smudge either of your nails, she wrapped one of her pinkies around your own.

“See, we’re matching now,” She grinned, and you couldn’t help but echo the look back, “So whenever we go out people know we’re together.”

“Here, try this,” A spoon was directly in front of your face, barely an inch away from your lips.

It smelled amazing, and you didn’t even have to question before you wrapped your lips around the utensil. Somehow, it tasted even better than it smelled. 

“It’s amazing, as always, though.”

Sanji grinned, eye nearly sparkling as he all but twirled around in his kitchen, “Thank you, mon cœur. I’m always grateful for your input!”

You laughed, his theatrical actions never failed to entertain you, and you slightly suspect he dialed them up to make you laugh.

“Not much input needed, your food always tastes amazing.”

“Keep feeding into his ego and his head’ll get bigger than it already is.” The shift on Sanji’s face was immediate, and despite your inner turmoil regarding your feelings for the crew’s first mate, you couldn’t help but laugh as Sanji turned towards the swordsman.

“Shut it, mosshead! What are you even doing in here anyways? Thought you were out there, photosynthesizing with your grass brothers.”

Zoro’s face scrunched up, both of them doing great at riling each other up within a matter of seconds. You stayed seated on the bar stool you’d been on, watching as the two got in each others face.

“None of your business, curly brows.”

“It is my business, it’s my kitchen!”

The pot on the stove top began bubbling as the two bickered, and your attention turned to the stew. Do you turn the stove off? Was it supposed to be bubbling? 

“Uh, Sanji—”

“You don’t get final say in who comes in and out of here, waiter.”

“I do get final say, green haired idiot!”

“Sanji,” You scooted off the stool, moving over to the stove, feeling mildly panicked as you twisted the knob lowering the heat, “Sanji!”

He turned, the anger melting off so quickly it was hard to imagine it had been there, “Yes, my dear?”

“Dinner’s bubbling.”

“Dinner’s bub— Oh!” He rushed over, his momentary feud with Zoro forgotten as he gently stood next to you, grabbing the spoon he had been using, a calm sort of franticness in his movements.

“So sorry you saw us fighting in front of you,” He gently nudged you back towards the stool you had been seated on.

You just shrugged— it wasn’t the first time those two had gone at it in front of you. Their bickering and fighting at first scared you, two men that strong fighting? It seemed like it spelled disaster. But the bickerings never escalated past that, and you soon found yourself feeling amused watching them.

Zoro made a tsk’ing sound, arms crossed as he watched Sanji save the stew with little to no struggle. He shifted, his movements silent and the only reason you were aware was because you had been watching him. He was inching towards the cabinet where Sanji had shown you they keep different types of alcohol there. Without turning, Sanji spoke towards Zoro, voice cold, “You can wait for dinner to have your drink, marimo.”

“Damn lovecook,” Zoro huffed, eye narrowing at Sanji despite the blonde not facing him.

You look at Zoro a small smile, and he just huffed back in response before disappearing from the room. No matter how many days you spent with the crew being near him still set you on edge. There was something about the way he looked at you that told you he didn’t trust you, and the silent looks were more terrifying than him threatening you.

“Here, taste it now,” Another spoonful of stew was in front of you, and the ebbing worry that had been growing disappeared.

Chopper always kept their sick bay in top shape. The scent of cleaning supplies never felt too overbearing, and it was always a nice temperature inside. You wondered how long it normally took him to clean whenever he dug through things as frantic as he was doing now.

“Chopper,” You tried calming his frantic movements down, “It’s just a scratch— I’m fine.”

“But I need to clean the wound to see how bad it really is,” He was standing on his tiptoes reaching into a cabinet, flinging bottles around as he searched for whatever it was he was in need of, “Then disinfect it so you don’t get it infected! Then I have to dress it, if you don’t need stitches!”

You doubted you needed stitches, it stung sure, but you’d had plenty of wounds that needed stitches before. This one just needed some gauze and time and it may not even scar. You didn’t tell the little doctor that, he didn’t need a reason to grill you about your medical past.

“I doubt it needs stiches,” You mused, watching as he appeared triumphant upon finding whatever it was he had been searching for.

Hopping off the table he’d been standing on, he made his way to you, scooting the stool to be able to be closer to your arm. You held in a wince as he began cleaning the wound, clearly desperate to be careful with his actions. Hovering in the door was Sanji, a worried look on his face. What surprised you was Luffy behind him, peering around Sanji to look into the sick bay.

“I’m fine, you guys,” The genuine concern in their eyes was touching, a warm feeling growing in your chest as you smiled at them, “Just a scratch.”

“I was worried your whole arm was gonna fall off,” Luffy spoke, leaning forward against Sanji, who, despite the annoyed look on his face, accepted the weight against him.

You couldn’t help but snort, wincing slightly as Chopper applied antibacterial spray, “My entire arm was not at risk of falling off, Luffy.”

“You don’t know that,” He sounded so serious, his eyes wide, “Luckily, we have the best doctor on our ship, even if it had fallen of, he’d have fixed it!”

As if on cue, Chopper wiggled where he stood, bowing his head enough that the brim of his hat covered his eyes, though you could still see his smile, “That doesn’t make me happy at all!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, watching as he wrapped your forearm was gauze, his touch light and gentle. By the time he finished wrapping your wound, the pressure mixed with the spray helped the pain all but disappear. 

You held your arm up, showing the two worry warts, “See? All fixed. Not at risk of falling off at all.”

Sanji looked relieved, stepping inside, grabbing your arm gently and turning it every which way, as if studying Chopper’s work. Luckily, the little reindeer didn’t look offended by the excess studying. Luffy still stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, just watching you and Sanji. Chopper was scurrying around, tidying up the mess he’d created.

“I should kick Usopp into next week, no, next year for hurting you.”

Rolling your eyes, you pried your arm from his grip gently, patting your palm against his chest, feeling the steady heartbeat under your hand, “You will not be kicking him into next week or next year, it was an accident.”

“Still, he—”

“Still nothing,” You cut him off, sliding your hand up to cup his cheek for a moment, your heart twinging as he leaned further into your hand, “He didn’t mean to, I’m okay, it’s all good. You all are just so used to roughhousing with each other, you forget what it’s like to have someone delicate like me on board.”

Your tone was teasing, patting his cheek for good measure before removing your hand, moving to offer your help to Chopper. As you shifted, moving around the sick bay with direction from the little doctor you were unaware of the brief, stormy look that crossed Sanji’s face.

Taglist: @hannahbarberra162 @sagyunaro @twismare @nerium21 @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @glaciuswduo @thekatisspooky @kultofkorii @cr4zybeach @ceramic-raven @theweirdgirl606 @jjsmeowthie @dinnersyummy @jetblackw1ngs

[ct-multifandom]

The Ruler Reactions

Gay people on national television! This one’s really long. If you read any one thing off this post let it be my analysis of Nath’s bedroom layout. Should I post that on its own, too?

Did they retcon his family to be ginger I’m confused. Oh wait no, I think the dad is, but the mom has brown hair? Curse the way they shade brown hair with orange highlights; it’s confusing, and it doesn’t help that Nath’s hair color right now looks more like his dad’s natural hair than his mom’s.

Nath’s miraculous is like a 〰️ shape

Pinkie Pie ass family dynamic

The dad, who I guess doesn’t have a name yet (?), is giving me basic businessman energy based on his outfit. He has a kind of douchey looking suit and aviator sunglasses

Dude their house is MASSIVE where do they even live?!?!? Is this one of those mansions that’s really far from central Paris? Like holy shit it’s huge and in one of the most expensive locations in the world, too. Is Shirel such a famous and successful architect that she’s that rich, or does the dad maybe have a very high-paying job?

Ew so the dad is one of those “I’m fine with gay people, but not everything has to be gay/ I’m okay with the distant, abstract concept of LGBTQ, but I don’t like to actually see it existing openly irl and deny it could apply to the people close to me” people

Local man prefers nonsensical, out-of-character het ship over well-developed and textually intentional same-sex relationship, hundred dead, thousands injured

Nice to see them making original stories instead of Ladybug rpf

You should talk to your good old pal Marc your buddy your bro

LMAO Marc has the same exact haircut as his mom. How did two boho hipster special brownie recipe Fleetwood Mac vinyl collection parents have such a Hot Topic son? Must be adopted

^ wait actually unironically might he be? I’m taking a closer look, and usually, they give the characters obviously similar features to their parents. His mom might have green eyes, and her mouth and chin shape look like him as well as maybe the ears, and obv they have the same hair texture. I don’t really see anything in common with the dad, though, and neither of their noses look like Marc’s, plus his skin tone is different from both of them and they have thinner eyebrows than him. We don’t know what color the dad’s hair used to be, but Marc clearly didn’t get it from his mom. It could be that the mom is his bio mom, but the dad is a stepdad?

The mom has a skirt with sun patterns and rainbow earrings. Nice to see her supporting her son’s character design motifs. How much do you wanna bet they all have pun names based on the sky like Sol(omon) or Sunny or Luna or Stella? Im putting all my money down, just look at the (a)Couffaines. I’m sure we’ll get more about them in another episode

Everyone’s got their shoes on the couch. Evil

Marc and Nathaniel’s moms would look like Ms Frizzle if they fused together

Marinette reminds me of that one Chris Fleming Gayle skit about cleaning the house. “get rid of the couch. We can’t let people know we sit!”

“I can’t go to school like this!” Because she’s embarrassed about snot and not because she’s ill. Hey Mari remember that time you starred in a COVID-19 PSA? What happened to that, did you learn nothing?

Okay so Diane is literally Nagito Komaeda I see how it is. Write this down for your Danganronpa AUs guys, she’s the ultimate lucky student. Sometimes I think about the early concept where the school they all go to is for elite and talented students… like girl that’s Danganronpa school. And that’s why all the kids are exceptionally good at at least one thing. Diane probably would’ve gotten accepted through some sort of lottery scholarship let’s be real. Side note, I saw the English dub gave her a South African accent which is so cute! They’ve been going off with foreign accents this season in all these different dubs

Marc has a rainbow “lightning bolt” logo of some sort on the back of his shirt

“Probably a jet plane” LMAO

So Marc really does have makeup on just one eye huh. Idk how I feel about that I mean it’s unique and the lightning bolt is kinda cool. I think I would’ve put the makeup and earring on opposite sides because it feels a bit unbalanced.

“It’s as if everything [the heroes] confronted led them to a final revelation” oh Adrien baby you weren’t there for your final revelation

“It’s our story, yours and mine” “it’s more than that, it’s our story, all of us!” Mylene is bi y’all I’ve been saying it. Myvan is bi4bi mark my words. “She’s wearing a pride pin because she’s an ally” you fools, that pin is for HER

To clarify, when she said that ^ I’m pretty sure it meant like the story represents the experiences of all queer people who read it and see themselves in it

Marc’s schoolbag has a tie-dye rainbow flap and the strap is studded like his belt. Nath’s is paint-splattered, and the flap has a comic book POW sunburst with a half-tone pattern and a graffiti tag. Gone are the days of everyone having bags that were the same assets, just randomly recolored in different pastel shades.

“I won’t hold it against you, it won’t change anything between us” <- lying, probably

Genuinely what is Nathaniel doing all day to get paint splatters all over his overalls, shoes, and bag? That’s one character design trope i do not enjoy because it’s so quirky Pinterest art hoe manic pixie dream girl, and it doesn’t even make sense because he’s almost always shown using pen and pencil, markers, and digital media. Show him painting more murals or something to justify this. Or give him a yellow Kanken, a huge reusable water bottle, and a phone case with a famous Impressionist painting on it idk.

^ also knowing how rich his family is now, the whole messy-on-purpose aesthetic is giving Coachella attendee idk like trust fund baby cosplaying as a Home Depot employee. Does this make any sense

Seeing Ziggy participating in all this and Nath asking for her opinion makes it even weirder that Ivan wasn’t talking to Stompp last time. See, Nath and Sabrina are making the most out of their free dogs.

The big nostrils they gave her are kind of distracting, though, and I feel like they make her less cute? If I were to draw a goat from memory I wouldn’t give it particularly large nostrils

He has the Adrienette fairytale AU art above his desk. “Oh Mariknight, we’re really in it now”

More epic art! This is still Avril Circus, right? I guess they really got into the romantasy genre

So obv the knights represent them, but I’m thinking are the helmets supposed to be like fur and feather themed to nod towards their hero designs? Is that a stretch?

“He’d rather lose his powers than his partner” that’s the line of the day right there ^ we are so coming back to that later as it shows how different Marc and Nath as well as Alya and Nino’s priorities are than Marinette’s

“They can’t lose their powers, it’s not fair” oh this is so foreshadowing. It also reminds me of the overarching idea that as a miraculous holder you can kind of just do whatever you want, and that you can create a third outcome instead of choosing between two bad things

Really interesting how Nath’s room is so huge, but only the tiny, hidden-away corner of his desk is decorated or representative of his personality in any way. The rest of the room is neutral and boring like it’s from a real estate catalogue, and is clearly in his mom’s style rather than his own. That shows how controlling she is and how even in his own bedroom the space represents what she wants without considering him. There’s even an abstract painting with harsh black smears and a bunch of eyes on it? It’s like his parents put that up to make him feel like he’s constantly being observed or scrutinized by them even when they aren’t physically there, which follows him away from home as well. Creepy af and reminds me of that one psychology thing where putting up posters of eyes is supposed to deter people from stealing. He has to shove his true self into one little corner as far from the door’s line of sight as possible where he can block what he’s doing with his back.

And this whole “true self vs my parents want me to be a certain way” thing is put in the context of homophobia in this episode, but I think it goes deeper than that. His sexuality and career plan are just two examples in what’s likely a constant stream of “hey you’re not existing correctly please fix that”

When Gabriel Agreste in s4 came out I made a post about the juxtaposed shots of Adrien and Marinette’s scenes with how Adrien’s house is oppressively empty and colorless while Marinette’s bedroom and visit to the art room were colorful, crowded, and filled with details full of personality and warmth. They’re doing it again with Marc and Nathaniel’s houses as a parallel to Marinette and Adrien, and showing us the Mariknight art from that episode solidifies the callback. Even then, despite the rest of the house being cold af, Adrien got to have a bunch of colorful games, music, and a TV in his bedroom even though he didn’t really choose which enrichment got thrown into his enclosure. As far as I can tell, Nathaniel just has art supplies. How is Shirel worse than Gabriel in this regard the bar is in hell

Nath rewrote the ending and Marc liked it better hm. He’s also taking poetry class. Before, Nath said he was bad at writing, but it seems like he’s improving. I wonder if they’re moving in the direction of him making solo comics later on. Not saying he and Marc are gonna stop working together or anything, but Nath wants to do this for a living and we don’t have any indication of what Marc wants to do yet, so there’s a chance comics might be a hobby project for him in the future. By which I mean when they’re adults, not like, later this season.

Nath hid what he was holding as soon as he heard the door that’s a reflex

LMAO they’re referencing the famous “does Adrien smell like cheese” fandom question

Talk about comic relief after all that stuff I just talked about ahaha

I hope the proof poster is gonna be up in the background of Marinette’s room from now on

Ok so they just look through his stuff in his room ok

“I’m okay with gay people as long as that doesn’t include you”

That mindset that you need to have a useful, stable job and make a ton of money and be productive 24/7 is like the Jewish version of the stereotypical “why no A+” Asian parents it’s like “you’re gonna pay our bills when we’re old, right? Why are you slacking off then, why no doctor or lawyer or business executive?”

Girl she threw that entire thick ass packet in the shredder with the BINDER CLIPS still on it?!? What kind of diamond drill bits are built into that thing

Oh hi Fred

First time a side character is abusing their powers for something stupid. I hope this won’t be a problem for him in the future,,, he’s a bit too casual about running around and transforming for personal reasons

Reverser callback, Nathaniel is once again doing destructive bullshit in the heat of the moment that will harm everyone involved instead of doing anything rational

No Alix for him to talk about his feelings with this time though :( when will platonic wife come home from the war

Thinking about that one analysis post I read that was posted forever ago where OP theorized/headcanoned that he has BPD you were so real for that

That was like a bajillion dollars worth of printer ink, rich kid

Maybe you should’ve talked to Marinette before going to school…

“So you were the jet plane?” Lmao

“Comic books are so you” “you’re only saying that because it’s all I’ve ever done” I mean he’s not exactly wrong about that. I don’t think he’s been shown to have any hobbies or specific skills outside of art

“Please respect my choice” callback to Penalteam when he said no to the miraculous and she was like… ok here it is anyway, see you at the akuma battle in five minutes

Aw that hug was sweet. Me personally though, I wouldn’t hug someone with a red nose and puffy eyes who just sneezed through the sound barrier moments ago. Lila wins by default because the whole team gets incapacitated by The Plague.

My “friend”

New teacher just dropped! The gardening teacher has flowers in her hair and patched up knees on her overalls cute

“I didn’t know tomatoes cry when you cut them” yes Nathaniel is very sad right now

Strike two of Nath making Marc cry, thin fucking ice

I need to know more about this academic vampire coven. There’s the poetry teacher and… maybe a school nurse? Both with bat accessories. Putting punk spikes all around the handles of a wheelchair is crazy btw. “Help me with my wheelchair, but also it’s a torture device. If you say no you’re ableist”

“If they were real art they’d be in the louvre” girl is YOUR art in the louvre, huh?

“Comics (allegory for being gay) aren’t real art” ma’am the entire LGBTQ community is currently looking down and watching you from the balconies

How are you homophobic while wearing quirky miniature-object earrings that represent what your job is, that’s a lesbian symbol

Also your son looks like if a man and a woman had a baby so this is your fault

Ok forcefully dragging him by the forearm

Very interesting that Lila didn’t attempt to akumatize Nathaniel during his breakdown but waited for his mom to get more upset,,, will expand on this later

“I’ll give you the power to literally put your kid through instant conversion therapy! It’s gonna work this time.” Wtfffff also the extremely blatant villain name pun is kind of lost in English

Marc has broken the fourth wall a couple times, he knows he has enough plot armor to jump a supervillain without transforming and not get seriously injured

Transformation! His design eats so hard I’m obsessed, and he’s skipping around like a baby goat. The spiky parts of his hair on the sides kind of look like floppy goat ears and the back of his jacket ends in a little white triangle hanging out that looks like a tail :)

How was he doing all that in that tiny closet? *onlooker sees the closet rattling violently and the legs of a poorly made 3D model clipping in and out of it* and yeah yeah he’s done hiding busting out of the literal closet yeah

I do appreciate a teen coming out story where the character is fully aware of their sexuality beforehand btw. None of that “b-but we’re both boys 🥺” trope just a guy who is openly bi and dating a boy at school but has to hide it at home

Ok this is so nit picky but I do wish they did something to suggest he is bisexual in this episode. Totally understandable to focus on mlm relationships, but I see what I imagine are young kids on the insta side of the fandom get confused about season 1 and assume he “became” gay, or I guess had massive comp-het idk. They might be reinforcing that idea here. I hope there’s something later on at least, like that time Rose joked about kissing both Mari and Adrien.

“I need to find my son” I already found MY son get away from him

Bro thinks he’s Splatoon

Those markers cost also a bajillion dollars. I mean they’re like magically generated so I guess it doesn’t count but still. Also are they… just regular art supplies he’s using or are they real weapons that look like art supplies because his power can’t make magical objects. If he’s just launching plastic rectangles at an armored knight that’s not very effective

Love the cunty Bayonetta style kick from chat noir

I guesssss it makes sense why Lila wants to turn CN on LB and get him to bring both the miraculous but like,,, you’re better off asking him to give you his ring first and then go after LB yourself whether you get her or not

This is the part of the episode where the hero explains what’s going on between them and the villain very explicitly in case you didn’t get it yet

Phew good thing mind control victims will respond to anyone’s orders

“Adrien is gonna have a villain arc” well it just happened and it’s that he turned into an Axe body spray boy

Oh what the fuck why is Lila calling out Nathaniel by full government name that’s creepy. Is she onto him for potentially being a superhero? Tbf he did transform twice in front of huge windows. And he stuck to the artist shtick a little too hard. If she suspects him then she’s not entirely sure yet? To expand on stuff from earlier, in Daddycop, she tried to akumatize Sabrina after she ran away crying, but didn’t do the same to Nathaniel even though he was arguably more upset. In El Toro de Piedra, there was a suspicious figure stalking Ivan, but I didn’t notice anyone like that here. In both those episodes, she didn’t say anything specific about Sabrina nor Ivan, so what’s going on in this one? Perhaps she was watching him in the scene where he went to destroy the prints?

Another episode where the shitty parents become niceys at the end. Please don’t let them magically be perfect form now on nor Raul nor Emile, let them suck a little but try to be nicer

Ah so the rewritten ending is that the sun and rain knights don’t lose their powers, but combine to create a new power of rainbow? Also mlm on screen kiss but it’s not between real characters. Fair enough, I don’t think this is an appropriate time for a marcnath kiss

There’s something to be said about how wlw relationships are seen as less threatening than mlm in media like girls kissing can be brushed off as cutesy but boys kissing is seen as a weird kink thing, like how the dad was saying mlm romance isn’t deep and sentimental unlike straight romance. In TV-Y7 cartoons in general there have been a good handful of iconic canon wlw moments, but I can’t think of any mlm equivalents other than minor side characters that barely do anything or like, older men who are also background characters and have no romantic subplot because they’re long time partners. In this show they’ve created an in-universe justification for why Marc and Nath are less open about their relationship, but they still continue to be censored far more heavily than Julerose, Zoe, or Caline and Giselle.

Shoes on the BED broooo if Sublime can have four different hairstyles in one episode they can make the characters take their shoes off okay

I love the physics on Marc’s dangly earring

Let’s talk about rampant homophobia and hate crimes but use nerdy fantasy metaphors for plausible deniability

Awwwww they’re so cute

YOOO Marc’s disguised miraculous has a cutout design in it like the one in a calligraphy pen that’s cool

REVEAL Nath was gonna be bisexual but not eat hot chip nor lie. This will soooo come back later. When Nino did it, it didn’t exactly have humongous consequences? I mean kind of but not in any way that endangered him nor Alya. That’s what I was saying earlier that Nino and Nath value their relationships more than being a hero. The trouble here is that Lila is being really ominous about Nath, he has a track record of impulsively doing bad things, and he’s recklessly transformed a couple times in this ep alone, so this is… concerning but also cute? And since the comic represents them, instead of giving up their powers after a reveal they’re gonna combine them and make them stronger?

People have been saying there’s gonna be a Myvan one too because of the intro and yeah I agree. Probably even more, like I can’t imagine Luka and Juleka can hide it for long. Marinette will realize that nobody thinks lying to their friends and partners is sustainable. She values being a hero over her relationship because she feels responsible for everything. Like she can’t just quit her job and get replaced at this point, she needs to protect the whole city/world and to her, that’s bigger than her personal life.

Interesting that they’re obscuring Marc’s transformation. Does that suggest his episode is after this? It’s not like it’s a spoiler, we already know what he looks like. Dramatic effect ig. Marc was generally very mature throughout this ep tho, and he jumped into the fight to protect Nath, so idk maybe it came first

Lila already knows who most of the heroes are, but not them. There’s a good chance she will find out and use it against them in the endgame. She does know about Alya and Nino. I predicted after Daddycop that Sabrina might fly under her radar the longest and be key in tricking her a second time.

Important edit: I just noticed the spiderverse-esque comic book effects in his transformation sequence, that’s actually sick. It’s so blink and you’ll miss it and by god I missed it the first time. Nathaniel Kuntzerve or whatever his name is. The goat, like literally

Unimportant edit: it finally hit me who Nath’s dad reminded me of and why he felt so familiar. It’s goddamn Tighten from Megamind. “There is no audience for your comic book, there is no tooth fairy, and there is no Queen of England”.

Wow that took me so long to write in actually almost glad there’s a hiatus now! (Not actually I’m joking) :((( it’s ok tho. Gay people in my phone

[cheesycatz]

Spamton EX and addisons crumbs you can lick off the carpet because I feel a little bad for abandoning him for 8 months

- read lore here -

plot scraps (yapping session) below

First, I’d like to establish my interpretation of the relationship between Spamton and the addisons. I like to see their conflict as two-sided. They weren’t mean to addispam, but, because they saw him as “just another addison,” they never truly understood him or his desires. They couldn’t understand why he refused to settle for a simple life, why he wanted to be at the very top. Spamton didn’t want to conform, he wanted to be his own person. I don’t know if he could even put it into words at that point. And, because he felt so alienated, it was easier for the voice on the phone to manipulate him. It was the only one who truly understood him.

(My canon addisons have the same personalities as they do in the Wormton AU. I’m just going to ignore the fact that they’re like 20 years younger in Wormton’s universe lol)

The addisons noticed that Spamton started acting differently after his big break, but they didn’t understand the reason behind it. They assumed it was just the riches and fame warping him. And, when they inevitably have their fight at the Cyber Grill, poison is spat from both sides. Spamton doesn’t want them to know that he's completely reliant on outside help, and he’s become so paranoid that he shuts them out of his life. He doesn’t feel safe with them, both because of the manipulation and because they never previously understood him. The addisons respond with varying degrees of hostility, because all they really know is that Spamton barely talks to them, is suspiciously rich, and acts like he’s above them.

If one of the addisons visited Spamton before it was too late, maybe something could have changed. Spamton had no one for company but his crumbling mind. The calls stopped coming, whether Spamton was the one to break away or not. Whatever was going on with him and Tenna’s crew dried up. Jevil, the few times he showed up, was not exactly a therapist. Swatch used to listen to him vent, but their sympathy vanished once he discovered NEO and started worshipping it. He revered it as a god, the only hope he had left of escaping his disintegrating life and this world that saw him as nothing but living garbage destined to be forgotten.

Spamton’s puppetification started as soon as he made contact with the voice on the phone, but its progress was exponential, starting out undetectable, showing subtle signs as he reached the top, and growing rapidly by his decline. More and more of his fur fell out, never growing back. His skin slowly died and flaked off, only made worse by the fact that he anxiously picked at it. By the time he was evicted, he had peeled all the skin off his hands, revealing the segmented plastic that had been growing underneath. Between his corpse-like appearance and Queen’s general dislike of him, every mention of his name had been scrubbed from the city. The more drastic changes to his body–the warping of his teeth and face, the drastic shortening of his legs, the loss of his tail, toes, and claws–took place during his first months on the street. Starving, disoriented, and even more isolated, Spamton was in denial of his new form for a long time. He never accepted it, just replaced his denial with complete and utter hate for the body he was trapped in, and a determination to finally take NEO.

The addisons assumed he was dead. Spamton did have a missing person’s report, though it was hard to find. They were the only ones who ever searched for him. They probably did accidentally catch a glimpse of him in the 20 years since, but his glitched voice and completely different appearance would’ve made him unrecognizable. The fact that he actively tried to avoid them didn’t help. I think, given how horrific of a state he was in, they probably would want to help him, especially if he came clean, but you really can’t blame him for not wanting anything to do with them anymore. His view of them gets warped over time, seeing them as just traitors. He remembers the good times, but the bad times are so much more vivid. 

------

Due to the fact that Spamton EX kind of just roams around eating out of dumpsters all day, one of the addisons is bound to stumble across him eventually. While he can still remember the addisons in his compromised state, and automatically doesn’t trust them, he’s pretty easily placated with food. I think any one of the four could accidentally find him first, but I drew Blue because I’m very biased towards them thanks to the Wormton fic. The last time they’ve seen his face is when his ads were plastered all over the entire city, so he’s completely unrecognizable in his current state. He can comprehend the questions the addisons ask him, but it takes too much brain power to respond or think critically about it for the most part. 

I drew Blue meeting Spamton EX early on, when he’s around five ft tall. They recognize his jacket and the shape of his glasses, and eventually discover that he responds when they call him by his name. The fact that the probably homeless, half feral, weird puppet-bird-dragon thing is somehow Spamton is, frankly, horrifying. He was a missing cold case. He was supposed to be dead! No matter how bitter some of the addisons feelings are towards him, I don’t think any of them can look at him in his current state and say he hasn’t been through enough (though, they don’t have to be nice about it).

Blue interacts with him over a few days, not close enough to realize that he’s already gained several inches. They tell the other addisons about him, too. They notice just how terrible his wings look. The muscles aren’t weak enough for them to start dragging on the ground yet, but they look like the inside of a dryer vent that hasn’t had the lint cleaned out in 30 years with the sheer amount of downy fluff and old feathers stuck to them. He doesn’t react as they touch his wings, pulling them open and witnessing a waterfall of Spamton-themed asbestos falling out. Orange realizes that the downy feathers, alongside the too small holes ripped through the back of his jacket, imply that the wings grew in recently. He lets his wings lay limp against the ground once they let go. 

Blue tries to question him about his wings, and, once he finally realizes that, no, that's not a heavy blanket attached to him and is, in fact, a completely new pair of limbs, he freaks out, overheats, and blacks out. NEO uses his voice box to produce an error message, which is the only comprehensible phrase they’ve ever heard him say at this point. Blue tries to carry him to their shared house, but he’s so heavy that they need help. 

At some point while trying to treat him, Spamton’s soul comes out (HIGHLY concerning, because an addison’s organs aren’t, you know, supposed to burst out of their chest), immediately revealing the source of the problem, a sickening bloody disk wedged directly into his heart. They assume it's responsible for all of his appearance, and is some really weird form of malware. Spamton wakes up, tries to scratch the addisons with the precision of a newborn kitten, manages to breath a Spamton-shaped white fireball at the wall, and stumbles out the door on all fours once one of the addisons opens the door for him.

He avoids the addisons for a while, during which he gets found and preened by Swatch. Between Blue trying to get him to fold his wings properly and making him aware that he has wings in the first place, his wings aren’t atrophied in this version, and he can move them when he's awake. Though, they still dangle when he’s unconscious, and he never cleans them. Eventually, he accidentally finds an addison again, and is willing to tolerate them as long as he still gets his free food. He’s over 7 ft tall at this point, his jacket torn to shreds. Blue feels bad for him because of his lack of clothes, but Orange doesn’t see the point in making him clothes if he’s going to outgrow them in a week. Pink figures he doesn’t even care, considering he’s been missing pants the entire time. 

Spamton’s size continues growing, much to the addisons’ horror. His claws leave white streaks in the concrete, his body weight dents their dumpster, and the feathers he leaves grow as long as their entire body, then even longer. Spamton, the shortest addison, is now as tall as their house, wings massive enough to knock them over with one flap. While they made him aware of their wings, Blue didn’t realize he was also unaware of his size until he picked them up like a doll, prodding at their limbs and making a confused sound. He doesn’t hurt them, but they are painfully aware that they are much more fragile than the dumpster he had already smashed like a tin can.

When Spamton regains his mind, he doesn’t remember a lot from his time wandering around Castle Town, but he remembers the addisons being involved in some way, because he somehow knows exactly where their stores and house are. He decides to avoid them while adjusting to his new body, living in Ralsei’s castle. 

Eventually, Spamton does confront the addisons, a little disgusted by how civilized they’re suddenly being, because he still sees them as backstabbing traitors. If they cared about him so much, why were they only doing something about it now? They’re 20 years too late. He’s already broken beyond repair, and he isn’t going to come crawling back. But, the addisons never had any idea the extent of what Spamton’s gone through, and he was never going to tell them. No matter how angry some of them were, they all still looked for him when he went missing. Everyone made mistakes, and everyone played some part in this mess. He doesn’t have to forgive them, but they’re willing to try again if he’s willing to.

Spamton slowly starts to interact with the addisons again, usually one on one. I could imagine Orange making him some clothes that actually fit, Blue trying to be nice while also pretending they’re not still scared, Pink making fun of his goofy ass, and Yellow getting stuck as the unqualified therapist. This would be a lot more nuanced and complicated than I’m willing to fit in a short what-if scenario post.

I think it would take him a really long time to forgive them. And, maybe he’ll never be truly comfortable with them, never reveal what actually happened to him. But, they were at least willing to try to understand him. And, he’s been alone for far too long. Worst case scenario, he can blast them to smithereens if they try anything. Perhaps he could befriend someone else from the future chapters? Or maybe he’ll just be making frequent assassination attempts at Tenna.

There’s my lil idea for how the addisons could be incorporated into my Spamton EX. He’s mostly the same, but goes through a little more angst in exchange for some reconciliation. I don’t think I described it much in my original EX lore post, but he’s still very much a cryptid after his recovery. I could see him monetizing it or using it as free publicity. The poor Castle Town citizens would be terrified of the building-sized bird man that randomly pops out of alleys and threateningly tries to sell you fake car insurance. Or, seeing the glint of his glasses in the sky right before he descends onto the dumpster in front of you like the mother of all seagulls. Maybe he’s metaphorically like the dragon that the village barely tolerates, but gives a sheep every once and a while so he won’t burn down the entire village.

I keep worrying about being in character, but I suppose most Spamton EX's are almost unique characters on their own, so I'm trying to get myself to have more fun with it. I'm thinking about bringing back the magenta suit jacket my old OLD (so old he doesn't even exist on my tumblr) EX had, to lean into that pink and green color scheme more. Who knows when I'll get to that, but hopefully it won't take me another 8 months, woops

[saviourfinn]

Spoilers for Sinners (2025) below.

The movie was amazing and it was a great and refreshing take on the tired vampirism trope. I especially loved the parallels between vampirism and cults/organized religion.

Just like missionaries and cult leaders, those vampires prey on desperate people and tell them that the only way to escape their shitty lives and be happy is to join them. They highlight the "loving family and community" side of their beliefs, and they seem to be sooo happy and to have so much fun. There's even a parallel with mass suicides in cults when Mary says "It's hard to believe but once we're all dead it'll be heaven on earth". And once turned into vampires, people are automatically convinced it's the best thing ever, and that if only their loved ones would also accept to be turned, then they would be so happy and their life would be wonderful ‐ just like religions who encourage their followers to convert everyone they know to save their souls, lest they end up in hell.

And the head vampire's arguments are sooo convincing as a (black) viewer you're really tempted to let them in. In a lot of movies the characters seem really dumb to listen to the monster, but this time he was so compelling that it was actually scary.

And just like cults/missionaries, he preaches love and community and says he just wants to help you - but instead of letting you choose, he literally forces you to join him. He attacks and bites people without their consent, forcibly converting them to vampirism - and so you realize that his will to help is not genuine, because if it was he wouldn't force it on people. I especially loved the parallels between the preacher (Sammie's dad) and the head vampire (Remmick), especially the baptism scene.

Remmick is a great and complex villain. You can see that he's genuinely looking for community and "human" connection, especially through music. As an Irish person, he has endured colonization, persecution, and forced conversion. He clearly feels a kinship towards Black people who go through similar experiences. And because he's immortal, he yearns to see his fellow Irishmen who died a long time ago (hence why he needs Sammie). So you would think he just wants to "help" Black people in his own way. But that's not it either. Yes, he wants a community - but one where he's the leader. When he's surrounded by dozens of Black vampires that he turned, they only sing Irish songs and dance Irish dances. He could also make them sing some blues, but he doesn't. Yes, he's yearning for his own culture, but he's also imposing it on Black people. And he's forcibly converting them to vampirism, thus doing to Black people what he and his people endured at the hands of the english. He wants to take Sammie's music by force and use it to connect with his fellow Irishmen, literally appropriating Black culture in order to serve white people. Instead of breaking the cycle he perpetuates it, only this time he's the one on top. Also, he tells people whatever they want to hear as long as it convinces them to let him in: he presents himself as a southern white man to the KKK couple and accuses Native Americans of kidnapping his wife, using their racist ideas and fears to convince them. And then he presents himself to the Black characters as a sad Irishman who yearns for love and family, who is anti-racist and ready to kill some KKK members to save Black people. He's both a master manipulator and someone who is genuinely looking for connections. Very interesting. He's also very charismatic and wants to be the center of attention, like a cult leader.

Anyway Coogler could have taken the predictable road of "the vampires are all racist white people and they attack Black people which is a metaphor for racism" (which is a valid parallel but a bit simple). Instead he gave us a layered commentary on community, religion, conversion, persecution, erasure of cultures, relationships between minorities, racism, and of course music as a powerful tool of connection and freedom.

[confusedhummingbird]

I must admit sometimes I feel like an awful Dickkory fan to feel like I don't ever want Dick and Kory back together with how DC treats both of their characters. I love both of them as characters so much and I don't trust that DC would do them justice as a couple anymore. Especially with Dick being tied to Bruce and them reconning Bruce to be so Anti Kory because she's an alien(Clark says Hi Bruce) Honestly if DC could just get to a point where they can be good friends with each other like he is with the rest of the Titans and not be afraid to have Kory on panel or diminish her importance to Dick as a person even without the relationship than I'm okay with that. I'll always love NTT and Dickkory for what they gave me. Not only a badass couple. But two really great characterizations for both characters. Not all of it aged well. But in the end they were still great together or apart. But unfortunately it's not like that for DC anymore and probably never will be again. Dick and Kory will never again have that level of great characterization. And I mourn it but I accept it. Still gonna bitch though because I'm me. Plus I've got my own canon for Dick and Kory where they honestly got that happily ever after and right now I'm fine with that.

[nxmiismyfav]

COME ON — DON'T BE LIKE THAT...

Kuzan Aokiji x nb! reader

Synopsis: You're the ex-marine Aokiji's lover. You are currently mad at him for suggesting that he would join the Blackbeard pirates of all people and there is no way that you would accept that.

Warning: Angst, may have grammar errors, it 2am, not proofread, Blackbeard's name mentioned.

"Y/n, talk to me..." The lanky man uttered behind you.

You paid him no mind as you continued to pin the clothes you had recently just washed on the line in your back yard.

As you moved down the line you could hear his footsteps behind you that sounded a little bit poutful.

"Come on... I know you don't like—" and, in a flash, you turned around to face Kuzan with a strong frown.

" 'I know you don't like-' " You mocked because of the nerve of him.

"Exactly you know that I hate pirates. Especially the ones like Blackbeard. Out of all the pirates in the world— you chose an outlaw like him... Knowing what type of person that he is. How could you...?" You argued just to break down at the end.

He only scratched his head, he felt your disappointment and he understood why... He was being selfish and he understood that. But there was something that he needed to do or even see.

"You are choose the life of piracy instead of staying here with me, am I not enough for you...?" You asked. Turning your back, you quickly wiped your tears, trying to hide the fact that you were already crying, but Kuzan knew that.

With his bag draped over his shoulder, he looked at you with a pang of sadness in his heart, "I'm sorry..." He apologized sincerely with those being the only words he could say out of his mouth.

but you didn't want to hear an apology... You wanted him to stay with you... Just the two of you.

Wiping your tears again, you knew what this would mean for both you and Kuzan's relationship if he was to actually join those ruthless bastards.

You turned back towards him with your eyes now slightly red, bruised by the salt that was in your tears that you were trying so strong to hold back.

"If you're really serious and you do join Blackbeard's crew, then I don't want to see you ever again." You placed your foot down, meaning every word. Whereas he didn't react, well he barely reacted, maybe the slight clench of his fingers meant something...

"So, who are you choosing? Blackbeard or me."

The silence grew loud, and that gave you all the answers you needed. "I see," you turned your back toward him again as you bit your lip, holding back your sobs, knowing that this relationship was over.

"This is it for us; I hope to never see you again; leave." You commanded so coldly. For an instance, Kuzan felt his heartbreak but he wasn't new to heartbreak. He patted your head before heading off to wherever it was that he was going. Leaving you all by yourself as you just cried.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

[applejuiz]

thinking about this post I saw ages ago that said d20 feels like a bunch of friends who just like playing dnd together while critical role feels like coworkers coming together for a professional production. it was so striking to me because it’s literally the opposite, like factually and practically the opposite of that is true. critical role came from a home game of friends and d20 is a show produced by a streaming service. even in the way they talk about the shows, cr cast members frequently discuss how they prioritize their fun and would continue playing together even without the show, whereas d20 cast members constantly mention how they’re on a filming schedule, how they’re coming together to tell a story for the audience and have things they need to accomplish or achieve for the sake of the story and the audience. that’s not to say that those statements from cr aren’t meant to impart maintain a certain brand image or that the d20 cast members aren’t actual friends. i just think that the surface level picture of these shows is very clear, cr is a group of friends who are letting you watch their game and d20 is a entertainment production that seems like a fun place to work. AND this is not to pit two bad bitches against each other (unlike the original post), I think they’re both doing their own thing very successfully. there’s just an interesting moralization to that post that I saw that one time. instead of stating a preference for the way d20 tells stories or the working relationship of the cast, there’s an interesting moralization that literally flips the reality of these shows to justify this preference. idk it speaks to our weird relationship to creative work maybe, that a true creative would make art even without pay, that it’s passion and not labor, that any discussion from artists about pay or conditions of their work gets buried with accusations of not being a true artist or not caring enough about the art for the sake of art. therefore good art cannot be thought about as a product, and good artists cannot be thought of as doing labor, it is passion and creativity and then money just so happens to fall out and get to the artists how lucky. (this is true for cr as well. it is a business and it is their job, even if they do love it unequivocally and would continue playing even if they didn’t make any money.) it may also be tangled in how the parasocial entertainment dropout provides is dependent on their image as a “progressive” “anti-capitalist” workplace. I do wonder what would happen if someone working at dropout had a bad experience, had to go to hr for something, wanted to negotiate the conditions of their labor, or just didn’t like their job (normal things that happen in any workplace that’s not a condemnation of the morality of anyone involved in these situations). granted this probably has happened and we don’t know about it because we shouldn’t. but it’s interesting how people are rightly suspicious of tech start ups who try to claim ‘we’re like a family here’ yet are completely willing to accept and reaffirm this idea about a creative workplace when those interpersonal relationships are the product being sold to us. would it be the end of the world if a dropout cast member said, I just showed up to filming and did what I was expected to do to get paid and then I went home? would it be the end of the world to say, I like the way the cast of d20 work as creative collaborators more than the cast of critical role, instead of trying to permeate their real relationships and their relationship to the work they do?