#he does it because he's traumatized and it's all he knows AND because he's a sweetheart. it's both. and god that's like really cool to me

[dollishmehrayan]

# “HOLD UP, POSE!” ── .✦ ( model!reader x batboys s/o kinda requested ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: so sorry for the break and how i traumatized half of you guys with my rant (if I suffer you gonna do too && let’s move on now ) and it’s lowkeyy funny ngl but omgg, I’m finally back though soo yeah but I’m finally taking requests again for a bit too so about that yeah and also make sure to go vote on the poll, we’re at 600+ votes already for my 1k event!! Tags: (batboys x model!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Your biggest fan, no contest. He has a folder on his phone labeled “My Gorgeous Girl” filled with all your magazine covers, runway shots, and candid photos he’s sneakily taken of you (even the ones where you’re eating pizza in sweats).

Loves to drop the fact that you’re a model into conversations. Someone says something even remotely related, and Dick is like, “Oh, that reminds me of the time yn walked for Valentino. She looked stunning. Anyway, how’s your dog?”

Flirty but lowkey jealous. He’s all smiles at your shoots, but if a photographer or fellow model gets a little too friendly, he’ll sidle up behind you, wrap an arm around your waist, and casually go, “Hey, babe, everything good here?”

Runs your fan page in secret. He denies it every time, but you know it’s him posting like archive photos of you? with captions like, “Truly the most breathtaking woman alive.”

Always hypes you up. You’re stressing before a runway show? He’s holding your hands, looking you dead in the eyes, and saying, “You’re going to kill it, just like always. They’re not ready for you.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Pretends not to care, but he’s secretly obsessed. You’ll catch him flipping through your magazines with a bored expression, but the dog-eared pages of all your spreads say otherwise.

Gets grumpy when he has to share you with the world. “Do you really have to fly to Milan again? Can’t they get someone else to wear the fancy coat?” But he’s the first one to text you after your show with a “You looked amazing. Miss you, though.”

Always lurking at your events. He doesn’t do red carpets, but you’ll spot him in the back of the after-party, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, watching you like you’re the only person in the room.

Jealous but funny about it. If a male model gets paired with you for a shoot, Jason will grumble, “You know I could wear that suit better, right?”

Says he doesn’t care about fashion but definitely critiques it. “They put you in that? Really? That’s what they think is high fashion?” (Meanwhile, he still owns a leather jacket he’s had since he was 17.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The low-key proud boyfriend. Tim doesn’t brag about you… unless someone else brings it up. Then it’s a full PowerPoint presentation: “Oh, you didn’t know she walked the Paris Fashion Week finale? Let me show you.”, “it’s not that serious Tim.”

Forgets how famous you are sometimes. He’s so focused on his work that when he accompanies you to an event, he’s always surprised when people scream your name. “Wow, they’re… really excited to see you, huh?”

Pretends to be chill but panics at your shoots. If you’re wearing something too revealing, Tim’s sitting in the corner like, “Does she really need to wear that? I mean, it’s fashion, I guess, but still…”

Shows up to all your shows with coffee. He knows your schedule can be brutal, so he always has your favorite drink ready and a warm smile. “Long day, huh? Here, you’ve earned this.”

Accidentally goes viral as your boyfriend. Someone snaps a picture of him holding your bag while you’re doing a fitting, and now he’s trending as “hot model’s mystery man.” Or “Drake Spotted With L/N?”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks modeling is beneath you. Not because he doesn’t support you, but because he genuinely thinks you’re too good for it. “Tt. Why waste your time parading around in someone else’s designs when you could rule the world instead?”

Still shows up to your shows like a proud dad. He won’t admit it, but he’s ridiculously proud of you. He’ll sit front row, arms crossed, looking annoyed until you walk out. Then his face softens, and he claps (but only once).

Hates everyone in the industry. Photographers, stylists, agents—he side-eyes them all. “Do they have to touch you so much?”

Quietly supportive in his own way. You come home exhausted, and he’s already brewed your favorite tea and laid out your comfiest pajamas. “You should rest. You’ve worked hard enough today.”

Keeps all your clippings. You find a scrapbook in his study filled with your covers, tear sheets, and event photos. When you ask him about it, he just mutters, “I didn’t want them getting lost.” And even keeps some fan letters that you keep or lost along the way.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks it’s “adorable.” Bruce can’t help but chuckle whenever you mention your modeling career. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?” But he’s not teasing he genuinely admires how passionate you are.

Surprisingly knowledgeable about fashion. He knows every major designer, can spot couture from a mile away, and will occasionally surprise you by saying things like, “That’s Galliano, isn’t it? From the ‘06 collection?”

Makes every event feel like a power couple moment. When you walk a red carpet together, it’s like the world collectively gasps. He keeps his hand on your back, whispers sweet nothings, and makes sure you’re the center of attention.

Defends your career to anyone who dares question it. Someone makes a snide remark about modeling being “shallow,” and Bruce immediately shuts them down with, “Actually, it’s an incredibly demanding profession that requires both discipline and skill. You should try it sometime.”

Buys your agency. You’re stressed about a bad contract or a difficult agent? Suddenly, Wayne Enterprises owns the company, and Bruce is like, “Problem solved. You can thank me later.”

[gallusrostromegalus]

Who would / do they believe without question?

Unohana

The Lady Unohana has only ever had the one job.

She's not the only captain that didn't have a different path in life before they became captain- but unlike the Kuchikis and Shihouins, she wasn't raised for the role and promoted because of her blood.

Unohana was promoted directly to Captain because of other people's blood. That she had spilled. Across Several districts. Surely unhinged violence counts as, if not a career, some kind of path? In her case, no. The astonishing carnage was not a path walked, but a trail of destruction carved by her in the midst of a psychotic breakdown.

Unohana had died, badly. She didn't exactly remember her time in the living world when she reincarnated, but it was badly enough that the full traumatic impact hit, and all she remembers was standing out in the middle of nowhere, trying to get her bearings again when a twig snapped and so did she.

Then it was four years later and despite fighting off nearly an entire army, she was in prison, dying of pneumonia, and a man is offering her a job.

She has a general idea of what she's been doing and unlike everyone else she has met since her memory began again, he's impressed with it. Pleased, even- he'd like her to come along with him and do More Of That, to those archers over there.

Yachiru Unohana is fourteen years old and has met a kindred spirit for the first time, and something inside her changes forever. Yamamoto is very nearly one thousand yeard old and has met someone who does not flinch in fear from him, and something inside him changes forever.

They are not, exactly, father and daughter. For one thing, Yamamoto completely fails to realize Unohana is not an adult until several years later when they are celebrating the founding of the Genryusai academy. He offers her a cup of Sake and she tells him she probably isn't old enough to drink yet and he chokes on his own Sake hard enough to force it out of his nose. He thought she was just short! ...But Yamamoto is the first adult that actually given a damn about her, after a fashion. Unohana is the first young thing that he's really been responsible for. Neither of them have families they can use as a frame of reference, so rather than more conventional expressions of affection, they instead stick to the highest possible standards out of respect for the other.

Unohana believes anything Yamamoto tells her without question because he has never, ever, no matter how delicate it was, no matter how bad it made him look, no matter how much it hurt to say- lied to her.

Sometimes she adjusts for "Sensei might be misinformed", but she has never questioned that anything he has told her has so far as he knows been anything other than true because it's been proven over and over and over for the last millennium.

With a track record like that, you'd probably believe him too.

[asimp4bee]

we need RID angst

here’s the question, Does bumblebee ever experience traumatic episodes infront of his team?

perhaps he activates his weapons systems with the thought he’s still in the war?

would he mistaken others for decepticons who hurt him?

night terrors perhaps?

would he lash out if someone gets too close to his neck (voice box) or his spark chamber without permission?

I'm going to end up binging RiD again because of yall HSHSHD

Neways; I like to believe that he'd get the occasional episode when something triggers that memory. I don't know about pulling weapons out on his team but if he was spooked enough, then for sure he would. (He'd be absolutely apologetic about it and he'd feel terrible, then comparing himself to Optimus again in regards to keeping his emotions in check.)

As I mentioned in my last post, I'd headcanon that he gets night terrors from the events in TFP and prior.

I don't think he'd lash out per se if anyone got close to his voice box though it depends on who it is. Like if it was one of the team, he'd be uncomfortable and try to divert the attention away from his neck but if it's in battle, yes, he'd lash out and shield his neck at all costs which would leave him vulnerable in certain attacks.

I also wish they had touched more on how Bumblebee literally DIED in TFP then just came back to life,.... Like that's gotta leave some deep thoughts like bb just died, you can't tell me he didn't have a momentary crises about it 😭

[chevroletdean]

sibling!reader dealing with demon!dean headcanons (req.) ── ✮⋆˙

Pairing: None, just platonic Winchester!Reader (fem) and her brothers Genre: Angst, fluff To note/warnings: Hurt/comfort, grief (temporary character death, as in Sam and Reader think Dean died), canon level violence A/N: A great way to start the year is definitely getting a cool request by @midnight--raine! Tysm, dear, your praise means a lot to me <3 and I 100% agree, Demon!Dean is terrifying. Still my favorite arc ever, because I’m a sucker for the nitty, gritty, dark and scary, but yes. Credit & links: dividers ──〃★ request here

Sam’s heart breaks twice that day. For one, there is the crushing grief that comes with watching the life disappear from his brother’s eyes. Then the realization: How could he possibly tell his sister what happened? Dean’s death is tearing him apart, and he knows it will absolutely destroy her.

There’s no easy way to deliver the news. But, alas, he’s spending a good amount of time sitting alone in the Impala, Dean’s lifeless body in the backseat. The ride back to the bunker was the hardest ever, the silence nearly driving him insane. Sam is thinking back and forth on what to say, what to do.

He knows waltzing in, carrying the corpse is not an option. If anything, Sam doesn’t want her to see Dean like that at all. Though he figures she’ll probably want to see for herself.

She probably already knows something bad happened the second Sam enters the bunker. Of course she does, her brothers have trained her to stay alert 24/7, to look at her surroundings with a keen eye — Dean would be so proud of her people reading skill right now. Sam’s by himself and his expression… he’s devastated, though he tries to keep it together for her sake. It can only mean one thing.

It feels wrong right away. She can tell. It’s obvious when he doesn’t answer her questions. “Where’s Dean?” Silence. It speaks volumes. “It’s not funny, this is a dumb prank.” Sam still can’t bring himself to speak up.

She runs past him, straight outside to look for Dean, even when Sam tries to stop her.

Sam’s glad he thought of draping a jacket over Dean’s body before talking to his sister. She shouldn’t have to see her brother so lifeless, after all. This view alone, even just through the car window, is enough to traumatize her.

What happened isn’t his fault, but Sam still apologizes over and over again. He can just stand there and feel guilty while he’s holding her shaky form.

It’s not their first rodeo with death and while it doesn’t make it any less sad, her tears convince Sam even more that he has to fix this, somehow.

That night she can’t sleep. Nothing can console her, not even Sam. Though she is grateful to have him at her side.

It’s the same for Sam, honestly. With both of them restless, they dig through the library, they try to find anything to bring Dean back.

In the end, she’ll probably fall asleep right at the desk, her eyes heavy and sore from crying and reading. It’s not a peaceful slumber by all means, it’s more like her brain and body just shut down.

Sam carries her to her room, but the second he tucks her into bed and wants to leave again, she wakes and sobs again.

She’s terrified to spend the night alone, nightmares haunting her. If it were for her, she’d be up and in the library again, but Sam manages to make her agree to a compromise: She will try and get some rest and he will stay with her.

None of them get another wink of sleep that night, she’s staining Sam’s shirt with tears while he’s busy brushing his fingers through her hair.

The next couple of days are rough. The bunker feels like a graveyard, Dean’s presence is definitely missing.

She finds herself wanting to prank her brother like every morning — she’d always exchange his shampoo bottle with the ketchup bottle, shed secretly put a Celine Dion cassette in the Impala. Now, there’s no point for any of that.

Instinctively she grabs onto any piece of Dean she still has. She takes one of his shirts to wear, his scent still lingering in the fabric. She doesn’t touch the piece of pie in the fridge, which she’d usually steal, but she wants to keep it there, preserve it, just in case Dean will magically return.

When Dean’s body disappears, it’s like losing him all over again at first. He’s suddenly gone, again, and panic sets in. And it feels even more permanent. However, it’s also a glimmer of hope, right? He has to be somewhere, so is he alive after all?

Sam’s more reluctant to get his hopes up high. He’s dealt with heavy losses before. Seeing his sister motivated to find Dean is a double-edged sword. It’s the first time since Dean’s death that he sees her eyes sparkle again. But he’s also scared she’ll break down even more when this turns out to be another tragedy.

It’s because of that very reason that Sam’s working on this without telling his sister. He hates keeping secrets from her, he hates lying to her, but he can’t bring himself to feed into her delusions only for her to end up even more hurt. So, when he’s able to track Dean down, he’s not telling anyone.

It bites him in the ass. While Sam’s out trying to find Dean, Dean’s already on the way to find her.

She looks like she’s seen a ghost, honestly. Wide eyes staring at him and filled with tears. Suddenly all her hunting skills are out the window. She doesn’t care to throw holy water at him, she doesn’t think of nicking him with silver. Demons, skinwalkers, none of it exists to her in that moment. All she can think about is her big brother being back.

She jumps right into his arms, scolding him, whining and sniffling and hugging him with a death grip.

Dean’s quiet, eerily so, but that’s not enough to make her suspect anything just yet. Maybe he’s tired, maybe she’s confused, it’s so much all at once. She refuses to let go of him, afraid he’ll slip away again, so she drags him to the kitchen and happily presents the piece of pie to him.

Dean doesn’t even touch it. Hell, he’s not even looking at it.

She quickly texts Sam, letting him know Dean’s back at the bunker. Then, when she looks up from her phone again and sees Dean not eating, she’s starting to get doubtful.

Dean not digging into pie? Is he sick or something? “You okay?”

There’s a grin on Dean’s lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and it feels off. It feels dangerous. “Never felt better.”

The wheels are turning in her head and her blood runs cold. She didn’t do any of the routine checks. Why didn’t she do any of the routine checks? Sam and Dean have taught her better, but she was so caught up in the moment and…

Her phone buzzes and Sam’s reply is simple. ‘That is not Dean.’ Her eyes widen. ‘Demon. Get away.’

The three or four seconds she spent looking at her phone are what almost gets her killed. It’s plenty of time for Dean to grab the kitchen knife and aim it at his sister instead of the pie.

She manages to dodge, somehow, although Dean makes it sound like he just enjoys playing with his prey. As his eyes turn jet-black, she knows she’s in trouble.

“I’ll give you a headstart, sis,” he hums and even his voice sounds so twisted, so wrong.

“Headstart?,” she echoes. “Dean, please, you don’t wanna—”

“Ten… Nine…”

He absolutely wants to. Sam’s right, this isn’t Dean. Not their Dean.

She bolts out of the kitchen as fast as she can. The bunker is big, but the problem remains that they all know it inside and out — where can she possibly hide? Should she lock herself in the dungeon? Should she ditch the place altogether?

“Six… Five…”

Panicked, she just makes a run for it, not knowing where to quite yet, but knowing it had to be away. As far away as possible. She scrambles to find a weapon, anything to fend off a demon, though she hates the thought of fighting against Dean. Not only would she not stand a chance against her brother, she could never bring herself to harming him or his vessel.

“Ready or not here I come.”

She’s definitely not ready. He could’ve given her a minute, an hour, a freakin’ year, nothing could prepare her for such a chase.

Stupidly, she decides to hide in Dean’s room. It’s far from the safest option, but it’s where her feet have carried her. She can’t really think of any room in the bunker that could protect her from the demonic version of her brother, but here at least, she’s surrounded by happy memories, right?

She’s holding her breath, clutching Ruby’s knife in her trembling hand.

It’s only through a trick that she’s able to survive. Of course, Dean finds her, but she’s fast and able to (a) distract him long enough to make preparations and (b) then lure him to the dungeons.

Dean’s not dumb, he knows there’s a devil’s trap. But he didn’t know there were two of them. She’s haphazardly drawn one he didn’t see until he is standing in it.

Bless all the times she has cursed in the past. She has complained to Sam so often whenever he had forced her to practice drawing pentagrams. She’ll make sure to thank him for it later.

Speaking of the devil, Sam returns just a bit later. He must’ve broken several traffic laws racing back to the bunker, but between that and his sister’s safety, she obviously came first.

He thought she’d be pissed at him for lying to her, but she has a priority too right now: Turning Dean into a human again.

It’s definitely not an easy task. More specifically, it’s downright nauseating to witness the purification process. Dean’s clearly suffering, the pain must be agonizing, but they are able to heal him.

Dean’s back, and he’s human again and it’s all she could’ve ever asked for.

Now, for Dean? Shit, he won’t be able to look into the mirror for a very long time. He always sees himself as the family’s protector. His siblings are his world and to think he attacked his baby sister? It’s killing him.

He feels so guilty he’s not able to look her in the eyes, let alone talk to her or touch her.

Which is why when she hugs him, clinging to his form sobbing, he thinks he doesn’t deserve that kind of trust. His greatest fear is that she’s now scared of him. She’d have every right to be, he attacked her with a damn knife.

“It wasn’t you. It was your body, but not your mind. I mean, that thing comes up with all sorts of dumb things, but not that kind of dumb.”

He can’t help but chuckle at that, of course she’s already back to sibling banter. How she manages to pretend like nothing happened is beyond him.

The events stick with him for a very long time, they never fully disappear from his conscience. He wishes he could wipe the memory of your panicked eyes from his brain, but that image will still haunt him in his grave.

Something has changed though. His shampoo is shampoo and his cassettes are his cassettes. There’s always pie in the fridge and she’s not playing any pranks on him anymore.

It makes him feel even worse. Especially when she explains to him that she’d rather be nice to her pain-in-the-ass brother and have him alive than be mean and have him dead.

“You know one thing doesn’t have anything to do with the other, right?”

It almost sounds like she’s blaming herself. As if Dean’s death was her punishment for bickering 24/7. It’s not right, if anyone should be feeling guilty, it’s him. And he does. God, he does.

It’s very obvious that she’s more afraid of losing him again than she is of the monster he’s become.

He’s set out on playing double the amount of pranks on her then, in hopes of getting some normalcy back. Of reminding his little sister that he’s still here, he’ll always be there. He’ll always be her pain-in-the-ass brother that’ll look out for her and keep her safe and play pranks on her.

When one morning he finds his toothbrush in a jar of pickles, bristles soaked in the vinegar-y liquid, it’s a small victory. Her post-it note with a smug smiley drawn on it is a step in the right direction.

Dean Winchester Taglist (Put a green heart 💚 in the comments to be added to the Dean x Reader taglist): @ladysparkles78 @ariasong11 @winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126

@zepskies @calibootsgirl @hot-and-confused @spookyfunhottub @berryblues46

@midnight--raine @emmy21842 @whichwitchwanda @foxyjwls007 @lyarr24

@whump-loverz @cassieriddle713 @ilovedeanwinchester4

Sam Winchester Taglist (Put a book emoji 📚 in the comments to be added to the Sam x Reader taglist): @s7nburn @whump-loverz

Please note: Ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts!

[somerandomcockroach]

OKAY THIS MUST BE BLURR?? I think he was the one showing the road and helping people evacuate?? And I think he just sticks his head out and looks for people who need help to get out and save just like with Swindle

HELP yes this is Blurr. He blabberies a lot. MGRHFJROIFPROdo you bring your millions on a death operations? Please the image of the wealthy runaway kid buying and running his little bar at his fifteens

BLURR LIKES SWEET CONFIRMED PLEASE SPEED RACER FULL ON SUGAR WHEEEEZEEE ....A week ago... they don't even have an access to dates?.. WHEEEEEEEZEEEEE OKAY NUMBERS WOULD HAVE LOOKED FUNNY IF HE ACTUALLY HAD A BDAY TODAY

I TAKE ALL MY WORDS BACK IT'S NOT HIS. HE DRINKS IN SOMEONE'S BAR AHAHSHAGHSAG *breathes in and out* Short Swindle sitting on a long bar chair when his toes can't even reach the floor with his elbow and head on the table in the underground bar that still works while the rumble is above and Blurr staring up. I love it.... HERE IT STARTS. IT WAS THE PROBLEM RIGHT FROM THE 11TH MECHAS. THEY ARE NOT SEEN. JUST BIG ROBOTS. OH. DEBTS. MMMM. LOVE DESPERATION BECAUSE OF BEDTS. Can I joke about debt trauma making Swindle desperate of money? A smiling man came in your life and suggested money. His sensei. Imagine a teen coming across a real pilot. First impressions showing that they can easily die and their mecha's life saving systems suck. And then hearing "I had to do it for the people". Not sure if Blurr could read it as a "leave me be" answer, but it might be a good push for a teen's mind *BEATS THE TABLE* *BEATS THE TABLE MORE AGGRESSIVELY* TRAUMATIZED PEOPLE WHO CAN FINALLY REST FOR A LITTLE BIT IN A RANDOM PLACE WITH RANDOM PEOPLE

VORTEX LAUGHS LIKE HYENA. PLEASE SOMEONE MAKE HIS POSSESSED MECHA LAUGH I WANNA HEAR THE CRACKED MACHINE WHEEEZEEING

GHFDHEGWEHRG I can't decide if Vortex is so yuky that you don't want to strangle him with your own hands or Blast Off is too smart to leave the trace of his hands on his neck HFHGEGFHEGHSG

CAN I. MY BRAIN DECIDED THAT BLURR WAVES HELLO IN A ROUNDED FAST MOVEMENTS This time he brought money but better be safe, come on, make your mood by learning it's free .................Okay I was just laughing at it but I think they are fed like animals in the program and he does shovel good food to share man.... ............man...... I am melting at how their relationship slowly changes over years... Also walking orchestra. Yes. WHEEEEEEEEEEEZEEEEE VORTEX I LOVE YOU IN THE MOST STRANGEST WAYS Was Swindle promoted to the work in lab? Or overall their group was promoted to something that freed them from rough experiments?.. .............I wonder if you have in mind exact bot for the boss position with this smile.... I kind of think of bots with mnemo surgery And Shockwave went through something too..... IMAGINE. IMAGINE EVEN IF CRAZY AND HARD TO HANDLE WARRIOR. DOESN'T COME BACK ON E DAY BECAUSE OF MONSTERS HE USED TO KILL DAILY. Have to take care of every of them... Brawl's safety and their own. Not like with such answer they can get something out of any of them .......okay that's why I usually don't read stuff on pc on tumblr it turns into this disaster...... THEY DID IT. I KNOW IT WAS CUT OFF SHORT BUT THE IMAGE OF THEM ALL VIOLATING. TURNING EVERYTHING UPSIDE DOWN AND MAKING THEIR PLANS TRUE. YESSSS. PROMOTION TO "I'M BUYING". THE DAY HE CAN DO IT. MAN. HE HAS POSSIBLE CANDIDATE HE HAS AND I DON'T EVEN WANT TO TELL HIM TO RUN BECAUSE THIS IS LITERALLY THE ONLY PERSON WHO FITS FOR EVERYTHING AND ACTUALLY WILLING TO HELP OKAY BYYYEE OH GOD HAGSHAG DAMN GOD *THROWS UP HANDS*

Chapter 3 of Blurr’s storyline in Mecha AU!

Previous chapter

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers.

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Under the cut⤵️

——————————————————

It's Swindle's birthday.

He thinks it is.

He's pretty sure.

Since he was taken into the program, it's always hard to tell. It's like time flows differently here. He had a calendar, but Brawl put it somewhere a while ago and then forgot where it was. And they're not allowed to have phones yet. Though Swindle assumes Onslaught managed to steal one from someone anyway.

Shit. Where's the calendar?

Swindle remembers the date, but can't remember the month.

There's a strange static tingling sensation in the back of his head. If he turns his head too fast, it'll grow into an unpleasant pricking pain.

The last time in the lab was disgusting.

He can't remember what month it is. He's not even sure why it bothers him so much. Not that birthdays mean anything within the walls of the program.

He stops in the middle of the living room and looks around with a meticulous eye. He's already checked the beds, desk, and nightstands...hah.

“Hey have any of you seen my calendar?”

Vortex, sitting on top of the bunk bed shakes the ash off his cigarette right down into Blast Off's lap.

“Nope.”

“TEX YOU'RE LITTERING ON MY BED.”

“I could have ..torn it up” offers Brawl from across the room.

Swindle turns on his heels and angrily rests his arms at his sides.

“You tore it?”

“I might have,” Brawl scratches the back of his head.

Swindle pinches the bridge of his nose

That's fine. Not that he cares that much. Not that any celebration at all would save the crappy day.

He has some new “experimental” medical procedure scheduled for later, which generally means suffering. Or if he's lucky, some critter will attack the city and instead of squirming on the slab, he'll have to go cuddle with huge nasty beasts. Which is slightly better than the actual procedures. He'd like that to happen. If only his head would also stop buzzing....

“Happy birthday to me” Swindle thinks, sticking his Mech hand under the plates of a particularly ugly monster and pulling something disgustingly oozing green blood out of there. He can see the faces of the random gawkers who didn't have time to evacuate. Ooh, some of them got that nasty stuff on their faces. Swindle has no time to feel sorry for them.

The monster did attack, but it's entirely possible that this monster ended the last meager supply of luck Swindle had. Because somewhere. Something. In his head begins to hurt again and the world in front of his eyes begins to slowly blur and..

ahh FUCK….

The monster grabs him knocks him to the ground and Swindle can literally feel in his bones that something's wrong, but the data from his Mech doesn't give him any useful information. Which isn't that uncommon. These things are glitchy as hell and aren't designed to recognize anything but the most basic popular malfunctions.

The word “error” shines mockingly in his face. Blurring in his eyes and reflecting in red on his uniform.

Error, error, what the hell is this error. He needs to know what's wrong so he doesn't accidentally kill himself, but all this bucket offers him is oops. You're in trouble teeheee~

He can hear the sound of Blast Off's giant cannon in the distance. And the loud rumble where Vortex and Onslaught are trying to get out of the ring of monsters.

His Mech is unresponsive. His damn machine refuses to move and Swindle isn't quite sure if it's the Mech that's the problem, because his head feels like a piece of raw rotten meat and maybe the error meant that what's broken is him.

The monster leans over him, trying to rip off whatever it can rip off and thank god this thing apparently isn't smart enough to realize that the Mech is controlled from the head because it's aiming straight for his chest.

He needs to get out. If he can't get this thing to move, he needs to get the fuck out of it before the alien gets him.

He manages to open the emergency hatch and quietly slip out and ohhhh the world is spinning, this is not bloody good.

He manages to take a few steps before a loud B A N G comes from somewhere above and IS THAT A TRAIN???? Who in their right mind would think of using a fucking train as a throwing weapon???? Is that Brawl? It's got to be Brawl. Oh, Swindle is so gonna kill him.

Because (sadly) in addition to the monster, the train and Swindle, there's also physics involved in this circus.

So while the monster is effectively brought to rest and knocked sideways with a hole in it’s head, the train stops its forward motion and starts its downward motion.

Right onto Swindle's head.

He just has time to think that dying from a train falling out of the sky is a pretty creative death. His legs are shaking, his head is buzzing and he only manages to take half a sluggish step in an attempt to avoid the inevitable when a loud “MOVE” comes to his ears and something yanks him to the side.

The tug sends fire down his spine and head. The ensuing landing reverberates with pain in his shoulder and sides. He barely has time to process the first two sensations until a moment later he hears a rumble so deafening that he thinks his eardrums are about to burst.

Swindle props himself up on his elbows and hisses in pain as the movement causes the back of his head to sting.

“Ah I'll fuckin' kill him...”

A voice comes above him

“Ouw dude. You okay?”

There's.. Some teenager hovering over him. And behind him is lying...the wrecked train...right where Swindle himself was standing a second ago.

The strange teen frowns worriedly and pulls Swindle upright and drags him somewhere else

“Come on, it's best not to be in the open during monster attacks”

“Ah” thinks Swindle ”right. Without Mech you're a pathetic tiny piece of chop begging to be stomped on by Brawl.”

He tries to focus on balance so he doesn't hang too much on this kid.

They find the nearest unlocked door, which turns out to be the entrance to an underground bar.

“So” says the stranger, letting go of Swindle and shaking the dust off his hair ” You're a pilot! That's so cool, but you're kinda small for a pilot.”

Swindle sighs sullenly.

“I'll let you have that one comment about my height because you helped me, but next time you're dead.”

“Helped? I saved your ass.”

“Helped a lot” says Swindle grudgingly. “Thanks.”

The teen laughs and climbs into the bar. It's a mess everywhere, people clearly evacuated in a hurry and threw everything in haste.

“What's your name? Oh, or, wait. Do you guys use code names? I've heard pilots call each other by call signs, but half the time those call signs sound so dumb, I don't see how they can respond to that.”

He waits for the kid to cut off his flow of words to take a breath. Man, what a chatty boy.

“You can call me Swindle.”

“Kay” the kid pulls out a couple glasses ”I'm Blurr. Would you like something Swindle? I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at mixing cocktails.”

Swindle looks around the room suspiciously. The bar, even though it's underground, looks pretty good. Too good, in fact. The place is clearly not for the poor.

He walks over to the bar and climbs onto a bar stool. There's no one else in here but them, but the electricity is on so he doesn't doubt for a second that they're being filmed by a security camera right now. Maybe a few even.

Blurr throws him an expectant look.

Swindle pretends to go through his pockets. As if there could be money in them out of nowhere. Then he makes a comically confused face and spreads his hands.

“Oh, no, I think I left my millions at home. What's the cheapest thing you have?”

Blurr snorts.

“Ice is free.”

“I'll take the ice then” nods Swindle.

There is a loud rumbling sound above them. It must be Vortex having fun again bouncing on the aliens that have fallen to the ground, crushing their heads.

Swindle is just. He takes off his helmet, takes a glass of ice and presses it to his head enjoying the way the nasty buzzing recedes.

Blurr waits for the rumbling to recede before speaking again.

“But really. You're a pilot but...uh. Are you even old enough to drink?”

Swindle sends him his best grumpy look. It's not exactly a joke about his height, but it's damn close.

“Are you old enough to pour?”

“Sure,” says Blurr too fast for it to be true. If Swindle had to guess, he'd say the guy in front of him is no older than seventeen. The tattered jeans and the T-shirt with the F1 logo printed on it definitely don't help. And, hey, those headphones look very expensive. So do the sneakers. Kid's clearly from a wealthy family.

Blurr pulls out a bottle of syrup from somewhere and pours it straight into his mouth. Doesn't miss, which is amusing. Doesn't wince, which is frankly impressive. Swindle feels the unbearable sweetness just looking at him.

It suddenly hits him

“Hey, do you have a phone?”

“Sure,” Blurr pours himself more syrup. Swindle twitches.

“What's the day today?”

Blurr's mouth is full of an unimaginable amount of sugar, so he just pulls out his phone and turns its screen toward Swindle and oh...oh. He was wrong about the date. And the month, too. It's not his birthday. His birthday was a week ago...

Does that mean he must be nineteen now? Yeah, that makes him nineteen.

Blurr takes the phone back and slips it into his pocket.

“Your face looks funny.”

“I just realized it's my birthday today,” smiles Swindle.

“Oooooooohh~~~” rejoices Blurr ”Congratulations! It's kind of poetic that you almost died just today. Can you imagine how funny the numbers on your tombstone would have looked.”

Swindle chokes on air.

“That's certainly a very appropriate comment, thank you...”

“Sorry haha said without thinking.” Blurr reaches under the counter again and pulls out a bottle from there “Hey, they have more syrups!”

There's another loud rumble from upstairs.

Blurr presses his head into his shoulders and stares up at the ceiling as if hoping to see something through it.

Swindle puts his elbows and head on the tabletop

“Don't worry, it's just Brawl.”

Blurr doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling

“ You can tell that by the sound of falling concrete?”

Swindle lazily dangles his feet. The chair is high and even the toes of his shoes don't reach the floor.

“Brawl is the loudest. And the heaviest, too. He's always crashing into everything, throwing things and breaking things too. You can hear him a mile away.”

He pauses to listen

“And that kch-ooooooooomm is Blast Off's cannon. It's some super rare experimentally advanced one, so it sounds like something out of a space movie. He couldn't stop bragging about it for half a year when he got it.”

Blurr chuckles and leans his elbows on the counter, relaxing.

“ And this...uh...what's this?”

“That's Vortex, he's our local lunatic. Best not to listen too much to what he does, it's almost always disgusting in ways you would never even consider.”

Blurr makes a disgruntled face and is silent for a couple minutes.

“It's weird hearing you call them by their names. I mean, I kind of always knew Mechs were run by people but you guys are never seen, so most of the time it's just.. Huge robots and huge monsters. You know what I mean. I was actually surprised when I saw you get out of that Mech.”

Swindle just nods. Because, what else is there to add.

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”.

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his glum mood

“Oh, hey. If it's no secret, why did you go into piloting in the first place?”

Because he had no choice? He can't answer that, that information isn't for civilians.

Because he didn't know what he was getting into until it was too late? That's not vague enough either.

Because he was up to his neck in debt and barely into college before a smiling man showed up on his doorstep and offered him good money if he agreed to a couple tests...?

“I had to do it for the people.” Swindle decides to repeat a line of propaganda.

“Ohhhh.... That's...a good reason. The monsters are disgusting, of course. But the reason is cool.”

Swindle just. Holds his glass of melting ice, listens to Blurr's mutterings, and enjoys the peace. This random teenager is not his superior or colleague and has nothing to do with the organization at all. Swindle doesn't have to remember to salute or follow orders or fear being reported to his superiors.

He can just. Be.

Just him and his free ice and his saved for free life.

That's. Sweet.

Blurr's drinking syrup again.

...and a little disgusting.

—————————-

Brawl jumps out of bed, hits his head on a shelf hanging on the wall and drops everything on it onto Blast Off's head

“Swindle!!!” yells Brawl.

“Why are these books sticky???” shrieks Blast Off.

“You don't wanna know~” giggles Vortex.

Swindle sighs.

“You're alive!!!” ignores Blast Off Brawl's complaints. And a second later runs up and pulls Swindle off the floor in a crushing bear hug.

Behind them, Blast Off, with his face wrinkled in disgust, gathers all the dropped books back onto the shelf.

Swindle wheezes pathetically and slaps Brawl's arm with his palm, either to reciprocate the gesture or to beg for mercy

“Br...khaaaaah...Brawl I can't breathh.”

“OH. I'm uh. Here. Wait.”

Brawl puts him back on the floor and runs back to the shelf.

Onslaught, who has peeked into the room, puts a hand on Swindle's shoulder

“You've been gone a long time. Boss said you tried to escape.”

His tone isn't judgmental. And not pressuring. Not even questioning, but Swindle knows Onslaught wants more information. Swindle clutches a piece of napkin with a phone number in his pocket and smiles weakly.

“I've found a...friend? I think?”

Onslaught nods. In a manner that only he knows how to do. Not giving an opinion, not encouraging or condemning. Just taking in the information. Swindle admires him for that.

Behind them, Brawl pulls some piece of paper out from under the books that have just been put away and drops them again

“FUCK!” yells Blast Off. Vortex just starts hooting like a hyena.

“Hey Swindle I found the calendar!” yells Brawl waving the paper.

Swindle frowns in surprise.

“It's a different calendar...”

“I found you a new one.” nods Brawl.

“...Why...is it...it's torn in half?”

“It had stupid flowers drawn on it, so I ripped them off. And I accidentally ripped off more than I needed.”

“Ah,” says Swindle, clutching the calendar, ”That's...Thanks. I forgive you for losing the previous one.”

Behind them, Blast Off is trying to strangle Vortex with a jacket.

------------

Blurr waves his arms happily like a hyperactive windmill.

“Swindle!!!”

Swindle smiles and adjusts his glasses

“Your party can be seen from across city.”

“I know~~” primps Blurr “Are you hungry? There was a snack table around here somewhere.”

“I didn't bring any money.” lies Swindle.

“Hey man, it's a party. Help yourself, it's free.”

“Оh.” Swindle's mood instantly brightens. “All right, then.”

“You look terrible” Blurr decides to share.

Swindle, busy shoveling food into his pockets, nods.

“I've had a rough week. Actually, it'd be cool if you didn't tell anyone you saw me here. I'm kind of not supposed to be here.”

He doesn't elaborate.

Blurr is a civilian. In his mind, a rough week is rude people or an exam or bad weather. Swindle's bad week is strap marks on his wrists and double vision. It's nausea from injections and sleepless nights because Vortex won't stop screaming in his sleep.

Blurr doesn't know that. With him, Swindle can pretend to be somewhat normal.

-----------

“Heeeeey�� says Blurr ‘I haven't seen you in a long time~"

“That” thinks Swindle ”is a pretty standard phrase for both of them.

Blurr looks older. Taller too. He was taller than Swindle before, but now that difference is starting to look almost comical. He's also flaunting a cast on his arm.

“Did you get hurt?”

“Didn't make a turn at training” waves Blurr off “It's no big deal. Wanna go find something to eat?”

Blurr is always trying to feed him, Swindle notices over time. Offers him drinks or snacks or whatever.

“ I like your uh..cap?”

“I got a promotion” Swindle smiles proudly “Me and the guys were made a special group...actually you're not allowed to know more than that, so you'll have to take my word for it when I say we are officially cool.”

He purposely adjusts his cap by the brim so Blurr can get a good look at it.

Blurr makes a delighted sound. Something between a “wow” and a giggle. He generally makes a lot of sounds all the time. Tapping his fingers on every hard surface, stomping in place like he's always late for something, laughing, whistling, clicking his tongue. A human orchestra.

__________

Onslaught sits down next to Swindle and clutches his hands in his lap in front of him. This makes the bed legs squeak pitifully. Onslaught has grown surprisingly large. He can almost rival Brawl in height already. Most people find that intimidating, but Swindle just thinks Onslaught is like a wall. A big, solid concrete wall that's so good to hide behind.

“Be careful with what you tell this guy.”

“Don't worry” says Swindle ”He's not the type of friend you tell secrets to. He's just a fun dude who's great to hang out with.”

Onslaught hums.

“And who feeds you for free.”

“If that's how you're trying to ask me to share, you're not doing a very good job.”

Vortex snaps his fingers as he walks past them

“Hey Swindler, the lab is closed for today. It's your day off.”

“Wha...”

Onslaught tilts his head.

“Vortex. What did you do?”

“I spat in their dna sample vault” proudly proclaims Vortex “and didn't tell them exactly where.”

-----———————-

Blurr frowns.

“Hey...are you okay?”

“No” thinks Swindle.

“My friend died” he says instead.

He's not okay. He feels like an animal caught in a beartrap, trying to chew off its own paw to get free.

Except the trap is closed around Swindle's head and it's not a body part he can afford to lose.

There's been a lot of talk. Even more rumors. Swindle listened but tried not to believe.

And then one of pilots, Shockwave… was taken to the lab and brought back a different damn man and it felt like Swindle had the rug pulled out from under his feet with hot coals underneath.

Because Swindle's boss, with his stupid, rehearsed smile, started writing reports about how “human personality flaws are something that can be fixed. That challenging behavior is something that can be repaired with tools.

Blurr freezes.

“Who?”

“Vortex.”

Because of course it's Vortex. Talented but difficult to handle. Powerful but uncontrollable.

They wanted a pilot who would be a beast on the battlefield and a loyal dog on base. And who else would be a more ideal test subject than him?

Vortex was being very rude that day, even by Vortex standards. Yelling and swearing and throwing things around. Kept saying that no shitty lab could make him “a fucking puppet.”

Scratching the stitches on his head until he started leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He went on a mission.

And never came back.

The reports said it was all the monsters' fault. That Vortex was unstable. That the accident had nothing to do with the new technology. But it was nevertheless suspended.

Swindle is both bitter and amused by this. Vortex would eat the same monsters for breakfast any other day. The bastard was unkillable.

“Oh my god” says Blurr “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

He says something else. Probably comforting. About how Vortex died protecting people, maybe. About Vortex being a hero.

“Vortex,” thinks Swindle, ”loved life. He loved adrenaline and danger and pain and thrill and fear, but he never wanted to die. They did something to him. Something that made him go over the edge.”

Vortex got his head in the trap and ripped it off to escape it.

Swindle knows him and the others are next. And knows that no one but themselves can help them.

---------------------------

Blast Off seems...very quiet. He could never stop complaining about Vortex before. Yelling about the garbage. Resenting the unmade bed and the cigarette ashes.

Vortex's bed remains unmade.

Blast Off regularly cleans everything up, but never wipes away the little circles of ash from the places where Vortex used to put out cigarettes on the furniture.

Onslaught puts his hand on Swindle's shoulder and squeezes. Not hard. Just enough for Swindle to register the gesture as important.

Standing nearby, Blast Off lights a cigarette and leans on Onslaught.

“Ons told me about your plan. I want to join in.”

“What kind of plan? Can I get involved?” inquires Brawl.

Onslaught sighs.

“Repeat after me - I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“Good job” nods Onslaught “From now on, every time they ask you any - listen. Any! Question about us, you will answer them with this phrase.”

“Got it,” grins Brawl.

Swindle smiles.

“Gentlemen, it's time to violate all that is written, and rewrite all that is violated.”

__________________

Blurr lazily takes his eyes off the phone. He's wearing a racing suit and tons of hairspray. He's shiny and gleaming like a fine collectible figurine that should be on the shelf of an expensive exhibit. He's also bored.

“Sorry buddy, the interview is long over, if you have any questions you'll have to pay for the session.”

Swindle smiles.

“How about one tiny little question?”

Blurr makes funny big eyes.

“SWINDLE!!! I haven't seen you in a thousand years! You...oh I didn't recognize you haha sorry. Nice coat. You quit being a pilot?”

Swindle proudly adjusts his glasses. He's wearing a brand-new, ironed shirt that's exactly his size. Nice neat tie, expensive coat. Swindle isn't surprised Blurr didn't recognize him immediately. Sometimes he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize himself. After all those years of wearing the pilot's uniform, he felt almost attached to it. And yet here he is.

“You could say I moved.” he winks snarkily, “Up. All the Mechs you see on the streets now are my Mechs~”

Blurr completely forgets about his phone.

“REALLY?? Oh man congrats to you!”

“Thanks” nods Swindle ”You want something to drink? I'm buying.”

———————-

Onslaught adjusts his tie. It's still, years later, a little strange to see him in a uniform instead of a pilot's suit.

“You do realize it's going to be hard to find a person like that, right? We need someone famous enough to be effective and dumb enough to want to save mankind instead of sunbathing on a yacht.”

Swindle adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair.

Someone outgoing so they can quickly befriend all the right people. Handsome enough to have their face printed on a poster. Smart just enough not to say too much. And not associated with Mecha program so they can't be accused of trying to get promoted through their acquaintances.

Someone who already has everything but still willing to put themselves at risk for the cause.

“You know, I think I have a possible candidate.”

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x stripper fem!reader

Mini-series summary: When Tangerine opened an underground strip-club to cover for his murder-for-hire business operation, he wasn't expecting to become so easily distracted by one girl in particular.

Chapter summary: Tension only intensifies after Tangerine's proposal and you and him grow much closer... (5k)

Warnings: SMUT (mdni), mentions of sex w*rk and slut shaming, pinv, insecure!reader, passionate sex, dom!tangerine and sub!reader undertones, praise, oral sex (f receiving), reader is kinda traumatized but tan is very sweet to her.

credit : my love @little-miss-dilf-lover 🤍

BAD FOR BUSINESS MASTERLIST

"She did what?" Lemon asks, his arms crossed, as he watches his brother finish counting the cash he always hands out on Sunday.

Tangerine doesn't look up, rounding up the envelopes quickly as he puts the cash inside. "She kissed my cheek," he says and sits up, running a hand in his hair. He looks exhausted. 

Lemon smirks, sounding scandalized. "And you're only telling me this now? Is this why she's been hovering around you since Monday?" 

"I don't know, Lem," Tangerine sighs.

"Well, aren't ya gonna elaborate on why she kissed you?"

"Kissed my cheek," Tangerine groans, shutting his eyes as he drops his head into his hands, "And I don't know why, I guess just because I drove her home. As a thank you, I suppose. Not a big deal, really—I don't know why I even mentioned it—" 

"Bullshit," Lemon sing-songs. "You're dancing around your feelings, as ya always do. You mentioned it because you want me to validate them, as per-fuckin-usual! To spell it out for you, as one says, as I have always fuckin' done. " 

"My feelings—or yours— aren't what's important here. It's hers and I don't know what she's feeling or thinking," Tangerine says and stands, taking the envelopes in his hand. "And anyway, I'm her boss. It's an abuse of power, innit?"

Lemon pauses for a moment and then shrugs, "Who cares if she has feelings for you too?" 

Tangerine narrows his eyes, very unsure, "I care. It still sounds scummy," he says and then hands Lemon the envelopes. "Drop these in the mailbox would ya?" He pauses and then he takes back the one with your name scribbled on the front. "Could you tell Y/n to come up here? I need to tell her something."

Lemon sends him a knowing look and a smile curls his lips. 

"Not like that," Tangerine deadpans, clearly unamused as he fiddles with the envelop anxiously, "She needs more money and she wants more shifts. I don't want that for her, you know she doesn't deserve that, not after what happened, so I'm just gonna give her a little extra cash—" 

Lemon's smile fades instantly. He looks at his brother with concern, "Mate, Leo won't like that—you really should be careful with—" 

Tangerine cuts him off, his expression serious. "I can handle Leo, Lemon, will you please just ask 'er to come up here?"

Lemon doesn't seem convinced but he nods. Tangerine looks down, gripping his desk and he collapses onto his chair again, holding his head in his hands. Why does Lemon have to question him all the fuckin' time? His jaw tenses, trying to shake the thought that his brother could have a point. 

He's lost in his thoughts when he hears your sneakers squeak up the stairs and then a knock on his office door. Instantly, he stands, trying to hide his smile as he calls out, "Come in, darlin'." When you do and he sees you, you're dressed in a blue dress that ends mid-thigh, a jacket, and laced-knee-high white socks. You really do look like anyone's wet dream, even when you aren't trying. Tangerine's cheeks burn and he represses the feeling. 

"Hi," you say, walking up to him.

Since the night he'd driven you home, you'd been less on edge with him. You've both had longer conversations and more stolen glances than you've ever had. Hell, he's even been spending some of your breaks with you. And he knows using the smoking excuse won't last forever.

He knows it and so do you, but neither of you mention it. 

"Hi," Tangerine says. He leans against his desk, his eyes roaming over you. His thumb swipes over the envelope and he clears his head, handing it to you, "Here's your pay." 

You look confused when you take it. Usually, he just puts those in the common mailbox. He has never handed one out personally. "Oh, thanks," you say and smile up at him. You open the bag that's hanging from your shoulder and tuck the envelope inside. 

Tangerine's eyebrows crease and he walks behind his desk again, looking for something in the drawer. 

You watch him curiously. "Tan, are you okay?" 

The nickname rolls off your tongue easily and an involuntary shiver runs up his spine. He almost regrets telling you you can call him that, if only because it makes him lose his mind just a little more than he usually does when he's around you.

Tangerine pauses as he thinks for a moment. He looks up, his expression still neutral as he walks back over and hands you a wad of bills. Your heart thumps as you take the money, even more confused. You flick your thumb over the paper, approximately counting how much it is. 

"What is this?" you ask, realizing there is almost four times the amount you make in a night in your hands. 

"A bonus," Tangerine says calmly as if this is nothing. "You said you're tryin' to save up for school and I don' want you workin' here any more than ya have to." He looks away, straightening himself. If he looks at you any longer, he'll break. "It's really nothin'," he adds.

"Nothing? This is a lot of money," you whisper, pushing the bills out to him again, "I can't accept this for no reason." 

Tangerine looks down at you, his eyes darkening a little as he shakes his head. His hands clasp around your wrists, his skin cold against yours, as he pushes your hands into your chest again. "You can."

"No, I- I really can't," you squeak, a little panicked. You don't know what this means. If this is really unconditional or if it will somehow bite you back in the ass. You trust him, sure, but he is still a man. You look down at the cash and then up into his eyes, your cheeks feeling unbearably warm. "D-do you want something in return?"

You're unsure about the question, but it wouldn't be the first time someone who is your boss has asked you for some extra services. 

Tangerine's cheeks immediately turn crimson and he drops your hands as if you'd burned him. "No!" he says hoarsely like he can't believe you'd even ask him that. "Bloody hell, no. That is not what I want!" He sounds almost scandalized and you panic. 

"Sorry! I assumed—"

"Well, don't! God, angel, you deserve so much better than that," Tangerine says breathlessly as if the words escape him in a rush. You pause, staring up at him as he says this, and those familiar butterflies you only feel when he's around burst in your stomach.

He always speaks so softly when you're around, always calling you darling or angel—it's seriously beginning to mess with your brain. 

"Just, take the money, please," Tangerine insists, "no strings attached."

You nod, adding the cash to your bag without another word. You pause and look up at him. You want to ask why he's doing this? What makes you so special? But instead, you ask something else; 

"What do I deserve?" 

Tangerine is a little taken aback by the question, his body going taut as he stares at you. "Pardon?"

Your chest tightens as you walk closer to him. You have no clue what you're doing. Men are usually so easy to read, so easy to seduce, and so very easy to fool.

With one look, you can have them wrapped around your little finger. But with Tangerine, it's completely new. You have no clue what works with him or what you even want from him. All you know is, you've never felt like this with anyone. Tangerine backs up. He inhales, clutching the edge of the desk as his breath hitches and his gaze stays on yours. 

"You said I deserve better," you whisper, dropping your bag to the ground. As if on cue, the lights from the lounge suddenly dim and you realize everyone else has gone home for the night. What are you even doing? You pause in front of him, your chest rising and falling as you lift your hand to press your palm on his chest. 

"What is better?"

Tangerine looks at you. His eyes are dark. He's not a stupid man. He knows what you're doing. He knows what you want. He just doesn't know if you even understand exactly what it is you're asking of him.

He's not used to feeling powerless so he stands up straighter and cups your jaw with his hand. He's still gentle with you; his fingers touching your skin reverently and loosening when you gasp in surprise.

"Why do ya do this?" He counters, his voice raspy. He pushes his body even closer to yours until he's so close he can smell you and fuck, you smell divine. 

"Do what?" you ask. 

Tangerine tilts his head, smirking, "You know what," he whispers and leans down so his lips hover near the shell of your ear, "Entertain men for money—bring them into that filthy little room," he pulls his head away a moment and glances towards the glass where he has an easy view of the door to one of the club's sex rooms, "and drain their fuckin' pockets. Hm?" 

Your stomach flips and your skin feels burning hot. Is he making fun of you? You try to shift your face from his hold but Tangerine doesn't let you. He looks at you and reads you like a book. "'M not making fun of you or calling you a slut, angel. I don't think you are one, you know that. Which is why I'm confused. I'm real fuckin' confused about why the sweetest and the smartest girl I've ever met hides behind some string of lingerie and flirty touches. Ya need validation that badly?"

You frown, his words hurting a little. But, you've started this so you have to take it from him. You can. You've taken much worse from men. You look into his eyes and keep your voice level. "You have no damn clue about my life, Tangerine, so you should stop assuming you know me."  

He frowns. "Yeah, you're right. I don't know a damn thing about your life," he pauses, searching your face. His mind is spinning and his gaze drifts to your lips. "But I want to." He isn't lying. He does want to know and some primal part of him wants to help. He wants to provide for you, and take you far far away from this life. 

It's not safe and you deserve so much more. 

"Let me guess, you want to 'take care' of me?" You say behind a mocking voice, your face still in his hand. "You're not the first man who's said that to me."

Tangerine's frown deepens and he strokes his thumb over your cheek. "Well, I know damn well I'm the first one who fuckin' means it," he growls, and the pull he's been feeling finally works because he's leaning in and kissing you.

You're a little surprised but you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing yourself up against him as you return the kiss.

He's kissing you passionately, his hands sliding down your cheeks and sides until he's gripping your hips. You've kissed many men but none have felt like this. It feels both overwhelming and wonderful. You run your hands in his hair, pulling on his curls. 

Tangerine spins you around, sitting you on his desk as he continues to kiss you. He's well aware this is very much fucked, but he can't help himself. The sounds you make against his lips are making him lose his mind. He cups your cheeks again, kissing along your jaw gently. The kisses last until he feels your hand slide down his torso to the zipper of his trousers and he hisses, disconnecting his lips from your skin. 

He stops your hand, fingers curling around your wrist, and you gasp, eyes shooting open. "I'm so sorry," you whisper, your voice small. Tangerine pauses as he calms his breathing. He looks into your eyes, his gaze softening as he shakes his head.

"You don't need to do that," is all he says as you drop your hand back to your lap. 

"But I do want to," you interject. Tangerine just shakes his head, caressing your cheek. 

"No, angel, I can't," he tries to explain. 

"Is it because you think I'm dirty?" 

Tangerine frowns, looking at you seriously now. "What?"

"Because I've been with other men—because you must think I'm easy—" you say, your voice shaky, "I- I'm not. I haven't had sex for money in a while, I promise I don't do it anymore and—and I was always safe. Please– I'm not dirty—" 

Tangerine can hear your panic and he tightens his hold on your face, gently shushing you. "Angel, I don't think you're dirty. I know ya take precautions. I know how this industry works, remember? I fuckin' own the place," he says with some disdain and then sighs, "which is exactly the problem. Kissing you was already a boundary I shouldn't have crossed. I'm your boss. I'm supposed to be better than this."

You look at him, relaxing a little as you begin to understand. "Tangerine, I don't care. No one has to know." 

He frowns, sending you a warning look. 

"I'm serious," you say and play with his tie a little, squeezing your thighs. His kisses have turned you on and now he wants to pretend it never happened? 

No fucking way. 

"I won't tell anyone. Please, I want you. Show me what I deserve," you whisper, pulling him closer so he's leaning over you as you kiss along his jaw.

Tangerine groans, his eyes closing as he enjoys the sensation of your lips. He's slowly losing control. This feels so right and he desperately wants to show you how a man is supposed to touch you. How he's supposed to love and care for you. His hands grip your hips, pressing his nose in your hair as he inhales.

"Fuck, angel, you're gonna be the death of me," he whispers, his resolve finally breaking. Still, he pulls away and lifts you onto your feet. "But, not here. I'm taking you home, if you'd like," Tangerine questions and you nod, your heart pounding. He smiles and takes your hand, squeezing it to reassure you as he picks up your bag and guides you towards the door. 

During the drive to his apartment, the tension is palpable. You shift in your seat, your cheeks warm, hooking your fingers under your panties as you pull them down your legs. You bite your lip, hearing the small inhale from Tangerine as his hands clench around the steering wheel. He's desperately trying to stay focused on the road.

You look at him, smiling, as you wrap your panties around the gear shift of his car. The faint, delicate, smell of your arousal fills the air and Tangerine curses underneath his breath.

"You naughty fuckin' girl," he mutters in your ear as soon you arrive in his apartment, his large hands palming your waist. He kisses you up against the wall of his living room for a moment until he swiftly hoists you up into his arms, your legs wrapped around his torso and he walks you to his bedroom. "'M gonna have to teach ya a lesson, hmm."

You expect something rough and dirty. You're used to rough and dirty. But, with Tangerine it's different. It's always different. When he lays you on the mattress and slowly kisses every inch of your kiss as he undresses you, your head spins. No one you've ever been with has been this slow and gentle. He's touching you like he's worshiping you and can't help but feel a little self-conscious when he finally has you naked. You lift your arms to cover your chest. 

"Tsk, none of that," Tangerine scolds as he lifts his head from where he was kissing your stomach and takes your wrists in his hands, pushing them away so he can admire you. "Fuck, you're the prettiest girl I have ever seen." 

You turn your head, hiding a moan in his pillow. He'll deal with that later, he thinks, as he looks down at your bare pussy. "Can ya open your legs for me, my angel? Can I make you feel good? Is that okay?" 

Your head is spinning and you nod, parting your legs. Tangerine pushes your thighs up and apart, kissing your inner thigh. He sucks some hickies for good measure as you moan, your hands fisting in his silk sheets.

"Oh, T-Tan," you whisper when you feel his breath hit your clit, your legs trembling. 

"I'm gonna take such good care of you," he whispers hoarsely and kisses your pussy, attaching his mouth to your clit. He takes his time with you, kissing and sucking. He listens to your cues, adjusting his position as much as you need him to. His mustache tickles your skin and you're a moaning mess.

You keep hiding the sounds you make out of embarrassment, either turning your head or biting your lip, and he's not having it. After tasting you, he climbs up over you and captures your lips in his. 

He wants you to taste yourself on his lips. You arch your back, unclenching your hands from the sheets as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. Tangerine's hand slides up your inner thigh as he slides his fingers up and down over your slit, occasionally teasing your entrance. "Can I?" He asks for permission and when you nod, he pushes one finger into you. 

You gasp, your mind going hazy. "I- I want to make you feel g-good," you whimper, your eyes teary as you try to keep them open and keep being good for him.

You're usually so good at this. At sex. You're so good at being exactly what the man wants you to be but Tangerine doesn't seem to want anything for himself and it's confusing and all you can do is let him lead you. He smiles, kissing your cheeks.

"You already are," he whispers, adding another finger as he opens you up for him. There is no way in hell you're giving him head, not when he guesses that's how you've had to pleasure the men that come into his lounge. He shivers with disgust.

This is for you and he can enjoy himself without forcing his dick down your poor throat. 

He continues whispering sweet nothings in your ear as your nails drag along his back. Once you're wet enough and he's lost most of his clothing and slid on a condom he keeps in his dresser drawer, he presses his cock against your pussy.

Your small wanton moans are music to his ears and he's definitely enjoying himself as he slowly pushes into you, keeping his gaze on yours for any sign of reluctance or discomfort. He's taking his time with you, wanting to memorize every position he has you in as he tells you he wants to hear you.

"D-do you want me on top?" you suddenly ask out of habit, still determined to please him. Tangerine shakes his head, keeping his arm behind your head as he caresses your hair. He's balls deep inside you now, the sound of flesh against flesh ringing in your ears, and your voice is breathless. Your head hits the pillows with every thrust he makes as you struggle to keep your eyes on him.

"No," he says sternly, "Just keep your eyes on me. There, good girl. Enjoy yourself," his voice is thick and raspy. He keeps a steady rhythm, teasing you and watching you fall apart. The sound of the city from outside becomes white noise and Tangerine isn't sure how long he's been fucking you but the sky is slowly becoming lighter. 

"Tan," you whimper as you pull him closer, shutting your eyes as his forehead rests on yours. "'M close," you tell him, wrapping one leg around his hip as you bury your face in his neck, you keep suppressing your moans even when he's told you he wants to hear you. 

"You can come but I want to hear you, angel," Tangerine groans, feeling close himself. "Can you do that for me?" 

You whimper, catching his gaze as you nod. You arch up into him, breasts pressed to his chest as you moan. You barely even recognize yourself. You're so used to the fake moans that the real ones sound so foreign. 

"Fuck me," Tangerine curses, holding you close as one of his hands grips the headboard tightly. The sound of his bed creaking and hitting the wall fills his ears. He can feel you clench around him, moaning as you finish, which triggers his own release and he squeezes his eyes shut.

Your hands relax on his back, your moans subsiding as your chest heaves. Suddenly, everything is silent and he's not sure what to do. He doesn't want to scare you and he himself has never really had sex with anyone he cared about as much as he does you. This is all new and he feels like if he makes a mistake, he could lose you forever. 

"You okay?" he whispers, his voice shaky. 

You nod and he pulls out, pulling off the condom and quickly leaning over his bed to discard it in the trash not far from his bed. When he pulls himself back up, he adjusts the blanket��so it covers himself. You do the same, sitting up and pulling as much of the blanket over you as you can. 

Neither of you speaks for a moment. You're both simply staring at each other. You can't believe you just had sex with your boss and what might be worse is that you don't regret it. You know you should, but you don't. You can't bring yourself to.

"Can I get you anything? Water?"

You shake your head, swinging your legs over the side of the bed as you stand. Tangerine hands you his shirt he'd thrown beside the bed and you wrap it around yourself. "'M just gonna pee," you whisper.

You don't wait for an answer as you walk past him. You wander to the bathroom you'd seen in the hall. As you button up the shirt, you have a strange feeling someone is watching you so you look up.

You let out a sharp scream when you see Lemon standing in the hallway, clearly half-asleep. Hearing your scream he jumps and screams too and rubs his eyes.

You hear stumbling and then Tangerine, only wearing his boxers now, practically throws himself past the doorway. He slides next to you, pushing you behind him on instinct. He's on edge until he sees it's just his brother and his shoulders relax. You finish up the buttons of the shirt, your cheeks burning hot as you are unable to speak or ask the questions you so desperately want to ask. 

"Well, this is a lovely surprise," Lemon sighs, rubbing his eyes as he yawns. "Ya both know it's almost 5 am, yeah?"

"Yes, thank you," Tangerine retorts, his voice strained as he glares at Lemon, "You can go back to sleep now." 

Lemon smirks, his eyes locking with yours. "Hi, Angel," he waves with a smirk.

Embarrassment washes over you.

You like Lemon, you've always liked Lemon. He was one of your favorite bodyguards. He always made you and the other girls laugh when situations became tense. You had no clue he lived with Tangerine. 

"Piss off," Tangerine hisses in a whisper you can clearly hear and Lemon raises his hand in surrender, using the bathroom first. Once the door shuts, Tangerine turns to you and you look completely mortified. "Hey, it's okay, he's my brother," he explains. 

"Your brother?" you whisper back, a little frazzled now. 

Tangerine nods, his hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear on instinct as he caresses your cheek. Thankfully, you don't flinch away from him as you're comforted by his touch. "Yeah, he's harmless."

You shake your head, moving past the brother's information to something more important. "Tan, he probably thinks you paid me! Oh god, this is horrible!" you whisper-shout, lowering your head in your hands. "He's gonna think I'm a whore and then he's gonna tell everyone at the club a-and–"

"Woah, darlin', shhh," Tangerine grips your shoulders, his voice still low so Lemon doesn't hear the conversation through the bathroom. "He definitely won't think that, okay? Trust me. And anyway, Lem isn't a gossip. He won't tell a soul."

"Ya, he's right, I ain't a snitch. My lips are sealed," Lemon interrupts, leaning against the bathroom door, zipping his mouth shut with an invisible zipper and Tangerine straightens up, turning back around to look at his brother.

Tangerine sends Lemon a don't scare her look and Lemon smirks. He looks at you and his gaze softens. "You better invite yer bird for breakfast, T." That is all Lemon says before he disappears back into his room down the hall.  

And so, an hour later, after neither you nor Tangerine could fall asleep, you're sitting at the small dining room table. Lemon is nursing a cup of warm tea while Tangerine butters up his toast. The air feels thick as you pick at the crumbs of your own, slightly burnt, toast, staring at the pink and yellow-checkered tablecloth on their living room table.

"It was our mums'," Lemon pipes up, watching you. "It's quite cheesy. Tangerine hates it." 

"I don't hate it. It was mums'," Tangerine interrupts, glaring at Lemon for a second but then his gaze returns to you and he clears his throat. You look up, smiling. Something in your chest flutters and you want to know more about them.

Lemon reads your mind. "Our foster mum was a gem," he says and looks at Tangerine and the latter nods, still quiet. He doesn't add on to the conversation and you don't want to pry. There is a sadness about Tangerine when Lemon speaks of their mum.

"My mum was a real piece of shit," you interrupt, unsure how to add to the conversation. You pause, chewing on the inside of your cheek for a moment. It probably wasn't the best segment considering both of them are looking at you with confusion. You take a mouthful of your toast, feeling a little embarrassed. 

"So, why'd you become a stripper?"

Tangerine frowns, jabbing his elbow into Lemon's side as he hisses; "What is wrong with you?!"

You laugh, shaking your head, "It's okay, it's just a question." You drop your toast, avoiding their gazes. "It was to save up money for uni, and now well, to keep up with the cost—" your laugh becomes dry, "and it's harder to leave this business than it is to start."

Tangerine is quiet and his stomach twists. He feels an immense guilt as you talk.

"What are you studying?" Lemon asks, beating his brother to the question. 

"Criminology," you say, sipping your drink, "I want to go into law."

Both Lemon and Tangerine sneak a glance you don't see and the conversation continues to flow. Lemon clears his throat and makes a joke while Tangerine remains quiet as he watches you finish your food. He likes watching you laugh with Lemon, he'll take any opportunity to see your smile.

He glances at the clock, secretly praying the hand stops so he can spend more time with you but once you see the time, you're excusing yourself. 

"At least let the bastard drive you home," Lemon eventually calls from the sink as he finishes the few dishes, and Tangerine hands you your jacket as you stand in the entrance. "Tis the least he can do after shagging you." 

"Lemon!" Tangerine hisses angrily.

"My mouth is shut, I remember!"

You laugh again, smiling at their banter. "I won't say no to that," you quip with a smile and Tangerine's shoulders relax.

Once you're both in his car again, he glances down and sees your panties on his gear shift. A deep blush settles on his cheeks. "You can keep them," you say nonchalantly, not seeming bothered by your missing undergarment "as a souvenir." You wink. You're clearly joking. 

Tangerine pauses, hesitating, and then takes the panties stuffs them in his pocket and clears his throat. 

"I didn't know you and Lemon were brothers," you say, looking out the window for a second before he starts the car, "You never talk at work."

Tangerine nods, keeping his eyes on the road. "We do, sometimes, but we mostly keep it hushed. It usually isn't good to mix family and business, but we make it work."

You nod, smiling. "I understand. I think it's wonderful how close you are."

"Thank you," Tangerine says and looks at you from the corner of his eye, smiling too. Without another word, you lean over and kiss him. It's quick, your lips gliding over his as your hand touches his cheek. Tangerine hums against the kiss as you pull away and his eyes open to look into yours. 

"Is this okay?" you ask softly. 

Tangerine's head screams at him that no, this is indeed not okay, that this is dangerous and you should be as far away from him as possible, but his heart yearns for you and for once in his life, he doesn't want to ignore his heart.

He nods, kissing you again as he leans his forehead on yours. "Yeah, this is okay. More than okay." 

You smile, squeezing his hand. You feel like nothing could ruin this moment.

Suddenly, Tangerine's phone rings in the center console and he picks it up. The caller ID reads Leo and his jaw tenses. You settle in your seat, looking at him curiously. "Who is it?" you ask innocently, catching on to Tangerine's sour expression. 

Tangerine turns off his phone and stuffs it in his pocket. 

"No one. No one you need to worry about," he says, focusing on the road as he starts the car.

You hum, not wanting to pry but you can't shake the weird feeling bubbles in your stomach.

[kirby-derb]

im a big fan of Au's LIKE huge fan of the like college au's, coffee shop au's and all of that

and recently my brother dragged, n yeah I mean dragged, into the call of duty little world

So: College Au and you can fight me this is real I've seen it

John Price: now i put some thought into it but I strongly believe his major is either something like political science or history. He's probably one of the older ones on campus, (28) but he lives in his own apartment a good five minutes walk away. He's not the best student, but he sits in the second row in lecture halls and he IS the one someone would go to for notes because he somehow remembers everything?? His free time is either filled with taking his sister's dog (she lives with him) for a walk or he's volunteering at the local history museum as a tour guide/kids party guide. Ahem now just like everyone else in the world he needs shcoalship money and he found that he's relatively okay at debate, so he tried oug and by the end of the semester he was the captain. It works out.

Kyle Garrick: DONT GET ME WRONG, Kyle is a genuis. However I think journalism with maybe a minor in pre-law is his speed. He started a semester late so many people assumed he wasn't thr brightest, which was wrong, he's currently head of the school paper and has an internship with the cities main news outlet. He's the golden child, right up front, hand raised with a question whenever he was confused (and the whole class was too but he had the guts to actually ask) with his free time he is either working out, or is at the school coffee shop, if there are no seats he WILL sit on the floor, headphones on and furiously typing away- he's writing a memoir.

Simon Riley: Psychology. I'm SORRY but you cannot look me dead and in the eyes and say that poor baby that was traumatized wouldn't wanna know how the brain worked so he could fix himself. And that's why he chose it too, so he could fix himself and maybe like a friend or two. He's a solid B, rarely an A or rarely a C student. He sits in the back, sometimes he looks asleep but no? Now he and his roommate are both nocturnal otherwise he would have a small light clipped onto his text book and study there, instead he will go study in the lecture rooms till the security guard will come- his name is Jim, he and Simon are buds. For free time he likes walking down to the boxing gym that's not too far away, it's attached to some apartment complex. Now for his extracurricular, which he very hesitantly did- but he was cornered by some nerd in engineering so- ugh, well he's apart of the unofficial rugby team.

Johnny MacTavish: said nerd in engineering. He's technically double majoring in mechanical and chemical, how he's alive no one knows. He does spend about 99% of his time in the lab/workshop, or if someone's TV breaks down he's there is about two shakes. When he isn't studying, building, fixing, playing rugby with the psych dude who totally isn't his type he's asleep. Hate to say it but he doesn't have any free time, nd he perfers it that way. He does play rugby, and he's trying to make an official team- however till then he's also a prime member in the robotics club, his professions are trying to become president but that's just...so much time, time he doesn't have.

Um yeah? This is my first post so if you find anything wrong with it or if you see i did something wrong please please let me know!

[typicalopposite]

🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼 Which isn't much of a surprise I guess. ;) Also congrats! You deserve every single follower and all the love, because you're one of the kindest and best people ever!

LP!! NO YOU ARE! 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 you have no ideas how much that means me, thank you! Here you go!!! 500+ words for Look What Love Has Done To Me ch. 11

🫶🫶🫶🫶

Tommy loads everything— that he has probably spent way too much money on— into the back of his truck. (He knows he could have spent ten times the amount and he wouldn’t have really cared… It’s for the twins’ birthday.) He stares at the bags filled with table cloths, party hats, paper plates, streamers, plus so much more, and it really starts to hit him… he has been a papa— Evan has been a daddy— for a whole year. He sees the bag with the two number one candles in it and that does enough heartstring tugging he needs to pull out his phone and call his husband. 

“I was just thinking about you,” Evan laughs, answering the call. 

“Are you at the station?”

“Y- Yeah… are you— is everything okay?” 

Tommy wipes his eyes and climbs into the driver seat. “I just need to see you…” he says softly. 

Evan is waiting for him outside the 118 when he pulls up and parks; his arms opening to him before he’s even out of the truck. Tommy practically melts into Evan’s embrace. They go inside for more privacy. “Talk to me,” Evan says as he shuts the door behind them. It has taken time… but Tommy has finally begun coming straight to Evan with his feelings. 

“It’s so stupid,” he says, as Evan pulls him back into his arms— Tommy rests his head against Evan’s shoulder. 

Tender lips press kisses to his temple and gentle hands rub circles into his back. “Now that’s not true,” he says. 

“You don’t even know what it is,” Tommy quips back. 

“Hmm… doesn’t matter. I know it’s not stupid. But still tell me, please?”

“Just… a lot hit me at one time, I guess,” Tommy whispers, thinking about the bag with the candles. “There’s so much going on… Our babies are really about to be one!” He can feel tears welling up again, and sighs; he can feel Evan smile against his temple, and it helps. “And— And now you’re captain…“ 

“W- Well… I’m not really captain,” Evan quickly corrects. Bobby is recovering from a minor injury— not work related, although Tommy is sure he wishes it was. (He took a baby head to the nose effectively breaking it, and lightly traumatizing both twins in the process— he is currently trying to win them back over, by babysitting them while Tommy got his shopping taken care of.) This is the very first time he has chosen Evan as acting Captain— Tommy knows what this means to him. Plus—

“Not yet, you mean…” Tommy says proudly; he turns to press a kiss to Evan’s cheek. Bobby has dropped more than a few hints that he is truly ready to retire. Tommy knows he is letting Evan get the feel of the responsibility… he knows that Bobby knows Evan is ready. 

“You really think so?” 

“I’m sure of it,” Tommy says with another kiss. 

Evan hums against his lips, holding him tight. “Might be a family of five by then.” He pulls back and gives Tommy a knowing look and Tommy thinks about the bag again. Dropped in it, along with the candles, is a multipack box of pregnancy test strips. 

Make me Write <3

[aurenturley]

the fact the IC deliberately turned a blind eye to Nesta's suffering around the fire at solstice right in front of them. It's ok for Cassian to sleep around and get drunk and for Morrigan to be at Rita's nightly leaving with new flesh every night for her own fun. Armen had multiple lovers too. They were just a bunch of hypocrites because Nesta who was literally remade and didn't even recognize herself couldn't recover quick enough. Feyre was instantly moulded and brainwashed when she got into Rhys's hands. The fact he said he would have "Let" her marry Tamlin,LET!! Like she was literally his to decide what to do with, it makes you wonder how much he influenced her before helping her with her mental shield. He saw in Nesta's mind her trauma and was horrified by it all yet he was still an ass to her, only because her couldn't control her like Feyre and Elain and she defied him, and she only gave back what she received from him, but she's the one in the wrong. Morrigan wants Feyre to be "happy" but would happily have her sister killed in Hewn City, for just what? Sleeping around and drinking, something she does daily and yet Nesta deserves to be abused and traumatized for it???? Amren saying she's a waste of space, because she didn't heal herself after only a few months, and of these months she spent nursing Elain to the living again, and while all her friends did the same shit after their traumas , Morrigan not even being able to be in the same room as Eris, and yet Nesta is in the wrong for the way she's acting???

Nesta in anger told Feyre the truth after Rhys, who told her he would never lie to her again, said no more secrets, about the baby, his responsibility to share something vital to his partner, She may have gone the wrong way about it but she was the only truly honest one, Nesta was the one that had to do it or else Feyre would have died without ever knowing her precious IC kept lying to her, she was devastated she hurt Feyre seconds after it happened and even tho the IC was the ones in the wrong they had the audacity to blame the situation on Nesta???? But again she's the bad guy and Rhys wants her dead for outing the truth and not bowing to her, It's overly horrible, and it's even worse that Feyre thinks she has any say in things and was so brainwashed she believes everything the IC does is good and now she is stuck in a relationship just as bad as she started. It's like Feyre doesn't even have her own opinions anymore.

The only good thing that came out of ACOSF is you finally see everyone without the rose tinted glasses Feyre wears and even is Feyre's perspective you could see how the IC was not what Feyre wanted them to be.

[matrixbearer2024]

Okay, so- I was talking to my cousin as I normally would during a new year's family gathering and she pointed out to me how jarringly different Stan and Ford's takes on learning is in my modernity AU. It probably doesn't seem all that clear without context and honestly I didn't notice it myself until I was talking to her but here's two situations that I think should encapsulate things pretty well.

Stanley would purposefully say the wrong thing to get a rise out of people(which he often does to Ford) or at the very least a correction. He doesn't waltz into something completely blind but most of what he figures out are through trial by fire.

Ford would scour anything and everything he could about a certain topic to make sure he has his bases covered and is often the one correcting instead of being corrected. He walks into things with an expectation in mind and almost certainly panics afterwards when things don't go to plan.

They're both learning but in completely different ways.

Stanley uses experience more as his teacher whereas Ford is often stuck in the books. Practice vs Theory essentially.

Stanley's philosophy is mostly hinged on Murphy's law, you don't do the "correct" thing with the idea that someone will tell you what it is and that's how you learn. He's gotten in trouble a whole lot for this growing up but it's nothing too substantial or traumatizing. He just learns through trial by fire and experience.

Stanford's philosophy is that you should know or at least do your best to know 110% about the topic so you don't make any fundamental mistakes and look foolish. He doesn't think there's anything wrong with asking questions, but looking dumb because of sheer ignorance is something he's genuinely terrified of. It has a lot to do with his own standards in academics that nearly borders on perfectionism but that's something else entirely.

I wouldn't say either are objectively balanced considering they're actually two far sides of the pendulum when it comes to how you'd approach or view the debate on theory vs practice- but I do think it's a very interesting view into their minds that I hadn't intentionally intended and simply realized after somebody told me.

It's also why I say in this AU if they're both separated, the Stan twins aren't really special, just average joes in a sea of talents; diamonds in the rough. It's when they're banded together that you'll actually see those gemstones shine.

Not to say that they're not independent of each other, trust me they really are because they would probably go insane from being together all the time and have their own strengths which they play up. It just so happens that in this day and age, you really have to stand out to be somebody and sometimes being simply talented isn't always enough.

I could probably talk more about Fidds and Bill if I'm asked but my cousin has an insane hyperfix on Stanley in particular and it's how I end up stuck with this LOL

[foundnthestars]

For the things we lost au, has there ever been times where Stan tells stories to Dipper to calm him down after a traumatic experience or just before bed or just in general?

I know currently Dipper’s and Stan’s relationship hasn’t gotten to that point yet but I’m curious!

Also what other tricks besides teaching Dipper how to use a gun and stealing does Stan ingrain in Dipper? Does he teach him all the tricks he knew from his days of the street?

And since Dipper’s still growing does Stan teach Dipper how to conserve their money, how to shave, how to barter with people/ being okay with talking with crowds or how to do certain math problems (because Stan has worked on the portal for a long time you can’t tell me that he didn’t pick up some things even if begrudgingly)

Does Stan teach Dipper all of his best Uncle Jokes/funny stories, and despite saying he (Dipper) hates all of them does Dipper secretly appreciate them ever once in a while?

Does Dipper help Stan with stuff too? Like does Dipper learn to read different Alien languages just so he can help Stan read stuff or does he steal a little bit of extra food because he knows if Stan doesn’t get enough for the both of them, all that food will be put towards him sl Dipper gets more to help Stan?

I know that Dipper had helped Stan with his hearing aids but what other things does he do for Stan?

DO DIPPER AND STANLEY EVENTUALLY GET A PIRATE ADVENTURE?! Please say they get a space pirate adventure!!!

Also do both Stan and Dipper pick on some alien languages because with Stanley picking up Spanish and Dipper’s interest in learning new languages I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch for them to learn

wow, HELLO! :) you literally made my entire morning when i had to peel myself out of bed at 5am to make it to my shift, and i've been thinking about these asks like all day. thank you anon!!! thank you for giving me an opportunity to rant about this wonderful, beautiful, tragic au. i'm so glad you're enjoying it!!

first off, yes, 100%. there's actually quite a bit of that in the next chapter. as dipper's walls begin to come down and his anger toward stan slowly but surely ebbs away, so too will stan's walls. in canon, stan doesn't share really any of his childhood (at least from what we see) with the kids until atots. in ttwl, it's implied that stan tells dipper more or less the same story we got in that episode (just minus ford's perspective/part of the story), but he will be sharing a lot more of his backstory, life advice, and stories with dipper as the fic progresses. this will help dipper understand stan's motives and will help move the healing process along for them. a lot, if not most, of dipper's anger toward stan is just resentment for being left in the dark (dipper famously hates not knowing stuff). and stan wants so badly to regain dipper's trust. he also wants to protect him from the things he feels he's failed him on this summer already (read: bill). 100% we will see stan rambling about this or that or this to a traumatized and or terrified dipper just to keep him out of his own head and to reinforce in the kid's head that he has someone beside him that he can trust.

side note: stan (and ford's) struggle will be in trying to maintain the kids' childhood and trying not too force them to grow up too fast. but they aren't perfect people and the circumstances are obviously awful and not conducive to helping maintain the kids' innocence. they'll fail and fuck up and they'll get some things right, too. but i can definitely see stan trying to lighten the mood/share stories as i can see ford taking mabel on light-hearted, low stakes adventures when things with the portal become too intense and her mental health begins to fall by the wayside.

SECOND, there's so many things stan will teach dipper! but, i'm willing to bet that stan didn't exactly take the best care of himself during those years he spent on the road. so there will be a lot of things he will have to learn himself! like, where stan spent weeks and weeks skipping meals because he had to, he can't stand seeing dipper do the same. he won't allow it. he'll have to push himself even harder to make ends meet than he did during those years. he wants better for dipper.

as for the things he teaches dip, i'll just list some of them out. you'll definitely see these things play out in ttwl but this question is fun and it's a fun sneak-peak:

stealing (pickpocketing and petty theft both)

how to put on a half-way decent con (in journal 3, ford mentions having to talk his way into food and shelter, and stan and dipper will 100% have to do the same. i imagine he'll actually catch on pretty quick but he'll absolutely hate doing it.)

how to read a face (i.e. is this person full of shit. everyone knows a good con man can spot a con right back)

how to drive (later)

how to shave DEFINITELY. dipper will start growing a little stache or goatee and stan will practically shove a razor in his direction the second it starts coming in.

how to be a ladies man (they'd have their roadside attraction arc and dip would learn basically that confidence is in himself and not in stan's fake womanizing "skills")

things dipper should be learning in school. stan clearly wasn't at the top of his class but you're right in saying that he learned a lot of things when he was building the portal. and dipper's a curious kid, they'll both seek out ways to help him keep on his education in some shape or form.

life experience/advice/etc. stan has 58 some years of life under his belt and he'll share whatever wisdom he has. can't promise all of it will be good lol

there's definitely more that's slipping my mind at the moment, but yes to all of these. and yes to the horrible uncle jokes. none of that stops. and once dipper starts being able to bear him a bit more, he'll secretly love hearing them. he'll love them for the normalcy they help him feel and because if stan is able to laugh and make jokes then maybe everything will be okay. maybe it's okay for him to laugh too, even if everything is so shitty.

as for reading alien languages, there's actually some plot explanations regarding translators that will be explored next chapter. as a resident guardians of the galaxy fic writer, i know all about writing about sci-fi translators and the like. i'm keeping the same explanation for how translators work in this fic too. meaning, dipper and stan will be able to read most alien languages really soon. though, because i like the idea of stan and dipper being able to speak some of the languages they learned during their time across the portal when they get home, they'll probably still try learning some alien languages without the need for translators. i imagine they'll get home and just start speaking, i don't know, like Galactic Standard with each other and ford will pop in and chime into the conversation without missing a beat and mabel will just be standing there wide-eyed and entirely lost for words.

AND YEAH. dipper will do lots of things for stan! besides the unintentional things that dipper does that he doesn't know about — like giving stan a reason to get up in the morning and filling him with happiness and purpose — he'll do his best to reciprocate favors! like, 100% if dipper noticed stan was skipping meals so he could eat more he'd steal something on the side for stan or lie and say he isn't hungry. they'd also both do little things for each other like steal or buy little trinkets or items the other person might like. stan'll buy dipper a notebook to chronicle their adventures and dipper will steal these chocolates he knows stan likes or a funny little doodad or whatever. maybe a gun or a knife if he's feeling crazy.

dipper will also sacrifice his own sleep a lot in order to take watch. the kid's an insomniac already, and stan is older and needs more sleep to recover from brawls with giant alien creatures or running from the law, so dip will do a lot of selfless things like that for stan. both of these guys tend not to think of themselves much so they'll probably both try to sacrifice stuff equally as much. of course, stan wont really let dipper most of the time.

and, i'm not opposed to a space pirate adventure. inquiring minds want to know more.

[witch-ren]

This post is brought to you by our occasional brainstorming with @i-havent-the-balls !

Curly visits Jimmy in prison (White Swan AU)

Basic info here!

A little note: one of my recent headcanons was that Curly, being discharged from the hospital, asked everyone to refer to him as Grant — it's his first name. Curly sounds like a silly nickname you give to a child or a dog, but not to a grown man who's a burn survivor and, more important, is traumatized by his best friend.

I will now refer to post-crash Curly in this AU as Grant. And you'll need this information as I will tell you the story.

Jimmy will be imprisoned for about ten years. As time passes, Grant think that it would be rude to leave his friend alone in prison. He should see Jimmy himself and check on his — does it worth it to consider him a friend or he's completely doomed?

So Grant takes a day off and goes to the prison to visit Jimmy.

Jimmy, actually, did feel guilty being in the courtroom. But seeing his friend, who was like a role model for him, on prosthetics limbs, using an electrolarynx, looking sick and devastated, being cold to him, saddened by him and disappointed in him, was a gut wrenching experience.

Jimmy tried to start the conversation himself.

"Curly..." he called in a meek voice.

"No", said Grant with an electrolarynx.

There was a few seconds of heavy silence.

"I'm not Curly anymore", he said. "There's nothing of him. My name is Grant, as always was. And I want to know what you feel about this now, James".

And these words were like a knife to Jimmy's heart. He never goes by James because it was his father's name. And since his father was a bad person, Jimmy never wanted to associate himself with him.

So calling him James is basically deadnaming him. Just as he did to Grant several second ago.

They talk for a while, discussing, thinking, answering questions. After that conversation they both realize, that they understand each other's mistakes, but what's more important — they understand their own mistakes and guilt. Which means that no matter what they feel for each other...

...they will always be akin. Not friends by heart, but brothers by trauma.

***

The next visit Jimmy, thinking about that, accepts his guilt. He starts going by James, as if surrending to it. And the first thing he does — asking Grant to forgive him, bursting into tears.

Grant's first thought was pushing James away or hitting him, but he remembered: no matter what, they're still akin. He immediately changed his mind and embraced him.

James realized what he's done. Grant feels it. He can give James one last chance.

And James will get the most of it.

When the visiting time ends and Grant turns his back to James, he suddenly calls him.

"Hey, Grant".

Grant looks at James with a silent question.

"How soon you will see Anya?"

"Tomorrow, I think".

"Please tell her... tell her that I'm deeply sorry".

"I will".

James gives him a sad, but so familiar smile.

"And tell her that she has all the right to beat me up when I'm back".

Grant snorts.

"Jeez, James. You're still the same".

He leaves the prison with a light, wholesome feeling of a new dawn in his chest.

[demon-country]

Reblogging this again, because literally one episode after I posted this (meaning Sinsmas, because I posted this after Mastermind) Blitz proved me right, like the wonderful, fantastic man that he is.

Because Blitz stepped the fuck up. As soon as Stolas needed his care more than ever, Blitz provided it in spades. He's been kind, patient, and understanding with Stolas, who is mentally very fragile right now. He has seen three times now that Stolas was serious about his declaration of love, and now that he really believes it he's been putting in some serious effort to do right by Stolas and help him in every way that he can.

They have also now both shown that they love each other unconditionally. Stolas risked his life to save Blitz, threw himself under the bus without hesitation, and has admitted that he doesn't regret it even though it cost him almost everything and has left him hated by most of hell (he just regrets some of the stuff that led up to it), all in spite of the fact that their last few encounters ended in disaster and left Stolas wholeheartedly believing that Blitz never cared about him. Meanwhile, Blitz was ready and willing to fully support Stolas, even when he learned that Stolas has a few different dietary needs and when Stolas was experiencing wild mood swings. He also risked his life to go save Stolas', proving that he's willing to fight for Stolas physically as well as emotionally.

Stolas isn't yet in the right mental state to enthusiastically root for Blitz, but I was spot on that Blitz would be all over Stolas as soon as Stolas showed him that he still wants him. He was already very touchy with Stolas after Mastermind - he often holds his hand, which Stolas never pushes him away for, thereby encouraging Blitz to keep doing it - but after their passionate kiss Blitz was cuddling him for hours and shared a very sweet dance and hug with him. Blitz has officially unleashed his inner velcro tendencies upon Stolas, and Stolas does love it, even though he's still kind of fucked up and not really in a good place to show that in any other way than not rejecting it. Well, except for at the end, when he was leaning into Blitz on the couch, and the dance, where he was demonstrably appreciative of it by eagerly participating and really lighting up for the first time in a long time, even being playful and letting out a genuine laugh.

They're not fully on the same page yet, but they're really close, and the closer they get the more they've opened up. Their trauma is still there and they both still need to heal from and address it, but they're really working on fixing their biases and hangups. It'll be a hard road to get there, because healing and unlearning biases isn't simple or easy or swift, but they're both clearly in this together and are willing to stay for the long-haul.

Anyway, I stand by my assertion that they're not toxic and never have been. And I hate that I still see people saying they are, even after Sinsmas. Please learn what that actually means before throwing around buzzwords. Complicated and messy relationships do not always mean toxic, and in this case they're just two traumatized individuals who don't know how to communicate or express themselves very well, and who have biases like literally everyone in the entire world does in both real life and in the show. They hurt each other, but not on purpose and stemming from genuine misunderstandings, and as soon as they realized they were hurting each other they made tremendous efforts to fix their mistakes and do better.

[mikakuna]

are we ready to face the truth that is bruce did not love jason as much as jason loved bruce?

[autisticaradiamegido]

thoughts on dave and aradia (<>)?

day 356

BIG fan tbh. in this house we love and respect timerails

truly yall read this log and tell me theyre not cute

[prapaiwife]

My heart reading that just shattered. Po had gone through such a tumultuous relationship that was literally nothing but toxic emotional abuse. And the sad part is he didn't get the closure!! where did all of this come from for him to start treating him that poorly that horribly. He helped him willingly. He didn't want anything in return, but this is the thanks that he gets. I think it's only fair for Po to get that closure to know that it wasn't his fault as to why the relationship went downhill the way that it did. His ex needs to admit to himself that he completely threw the relationship away and admit that he's the one at fault. Po did nothing but stand by his side when he wasn't even at the top, but the moment he gets there, po is right there to congratulate him, and he just ignores his existence. Everything people have been saying to him in these last four episodes knowing what he went through is so traumatizing truly. Which is why when he does get into this relationship with thame I think he knows there's a lot of things at stake and it's sad to say that he might have to be the one to make the hard decision. At least he can say he finally got the relationship he deserved. All he wanted was to be treated with love and respect, compassion, and empathy! and thame is going beyond that and more as we see, and it's so good to see him just believe in love for him again it doesn't end there because of his horrible past relationship.

With GMMTV series I always have a clear distinction. When it's a adaptation of a popular novel, I'm quite aware while watching that the script was completely rewritten by the different team, and in most cases it was for the better (it took a lot of effort to make on screen a green flag characters for My School President and Star in My Mind characters and I really mean it, I hope all the scriptwriters got a bonus for how much effort they put into making the couples' relationships in these series healthy - unlike the novel). So yes, I quite clearly separate the characters from the series from those written in the novel. For my sanity and faith in my favorite characters. They're are two completely different people for me.

But there are series where they wrote the script and the novel appeared as an addition and based on the script and team's notes (NLMG, Kidnap, ThamePo). In this case, I perceive the novel as an addition to what the director does not have time to tell about on the screen due to reasons. So this is just something canon about characters for me but unseen in the series.

And with ThamePo? Oh God, my heart cries for Po.

source

I assumed from the first few episodes that he was in a toxic relationship, but I didn't realize how abusive it was. And how much it destroyed Po as a person and now I feel like I looked at him with new eyes.

What hurts even more now is how much Po hasn't lost faith in people and how much his bright naive soul wants to help Thame reunite the group, even if it means he might end up getting hurt again, especially after such a big betrayal from his ex. And that scene where Po remembers Jun's words about how Thame would forget about him once the group reunites? Now it hits me in a completely different way because at that exactly moment Po in his mind was trying to deny the fact that he had met someone like Earn again. Because he had faith in Thame. May sound stupid, but it's just so inherent in his character. And because he and Thame aren't that close at this moment, it wasn't the pain for him, no. It was disappointment. And not so much in Thame but in people in general. I understand him, I experienced it once too.

And that's why the moment when Po decides to enter into a relationship with Thame will be so precious to him. Not only because he decided to start relationship with an idol knowing that it would be hidden and it would be a secret relationship again (like with ex). For him it was also a matter of trust, fear of the situation repeating itself, the question of what he is worth and what he has achieved as an independent human being and how he cannot lose this with new relationship again. Because it will destroys him.

And I can't even begin to write how angry I am about everything involving Earn now. I hate people like him. Uncle Joei and Baifern's words about him make so much sense now after knowing all of this, and yes, that asshole at least needs to go bankrupt in the finale. It's not enough for me to think that Thame is going to punch Earn in the face one day, to protect Po I need a gun.