#he just tripped with a jar of jam is all

[the1trueanon]

The doodles I did on my test stream yesterday! (small tw for blood!!)

I've gotta figure out how to fix my lagging issue -- it might be the program I'm using, plus my poor lil baby laptop lol -- cause it was definitely enough to mess with my style a bit. But! We adapt, we conquer :D!! And I still really like these sketches 🥰 (Reboot with glowing eyes my beloved 😍)

I should be able to start streaming a lot more soon, so keep an eye out for that! Hopefully I'll get a schedule in order (and a good voice/audio system too!) and we'll be in business! You guys can now find me on twitch: that1trueanon!

As always, Welcome Home belongs to Clown (partycoffin), and Reboot Wally belongs to @bloodrediscream! 💖💖💖

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

dave mustaine realizing how strong he is compared to the reader, and always displays this during sex, especially while fucking her against the wall or using his big hands to do whatever he wants with her body

A/n: I can’t even count how many times I tried writing this and just couldn’t think of anything, I still feel like I could’ve written it better but I hope you like it nonetheless <3

Warnings: smut, size kink, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

It all started when you needed help opening a jar.

It was jam, the lid was stuck and you were tired. Dave was home so after a few seconds of trying you gave up and called him over for help. He opened it with ease and you moved on with your day, but Dave didn't.

He grew this obsession with proving how weak you were, or rather how strong he was. Can't reach the top shelf? Don't worry, Dave's right around the corner to lift you up. Need help carrying the groceries in? Not a problem, he can take them with ease, carrying more bags in fewer trips.

You didn't mind it, he was always looking for more ways to help you so why would it be a bad thing?

You were making dinner and Dave was sitting not far away watching you. He wasn't saying anything, not talking about his day or asking about yours. He was just staring at you with a wonky smile.

You were looking at the ingredients. "Hey, Dave, can you get the milk for me, please?" You asked, not taking your eyes off the cookbook.

Dave got up and got the milk, bringing it over to you, though he didn't go back to his seat. Instead he wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on your shoulder. "You're adorable, you know that?" He asked, placing a few soft kisses against your neck.

You paused for a moment and looked at him. "Yeah? Why's that?"

Dave gave your waist a gentle squeeze. He hid his face in the crook of your neck a moment, deeply inhaling your scent. “Your so tiny.” He said. “Could just pick you up and fuck you wherever I want.”

Your cheeks flushed a deep red and you tried to stay focused on the food.

A few minutes passed and Dave didn’t let go of you, still holding you close, kissing you occasionally.

“Think about it.” He said suddenly. “I could fold you in half right now, pin you against the wall and have my way with you.” You couldn’t deny the heat pooling at your cunt, the way your thighs pushed together in search of any amount of friction. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being used like my own fucktoy?”

You took a deep breath in an attempt to clear your mind. You took the knife off the counter and started cutting a carrot before Dave stopped you and took the knife from your hand. “Enough with the hypothetical.” You turned your head to look at him and in an instant his lips were on yours, kissing, biting, tongue slipping past your lips to explore your mouth.

He picked you up just like he said he would and carried you to the bedroom, ignoring your weak attempts to protest. He got you out of your clothes, quite literally ripping your panties off and tossing them off somewhere.

He kissed down your body, starting at your neck and working his way down, playing close attention to your reactions, which spots were most sensitive, what felt best for you.

You twitched and moaned underneath him, heavy breaths leaving you as his big hands trailed over you. He dwarfed you. Everything about him made you small. From his hands around your neck to that bulge in your gut every time he has you to himself.

He moved back over you, kissing you sweetly before getting out of his own clothes.

“You’re so perfect, sweetheart.” He said as he crawled back over you. “All hot and ready for me, hm?” You let out a soft whine and Dave took it as an invitation to spread your legs.

He had a hand on either of your knees, slowly moving them up to your chest. “Look at that.” He mused. “Don’t even need any prep, hm?” You smiled proudly up at him. "Good girl." He mused as he lined himself up and pushed into you.

You let out a drawn out moan at the feeling, how he stretched you out so good. He gave you a second to adjust to his girth before he started rolling his hips to meet yours.

"Oh, fuck, Dave, just like that." You moaned out. Your hands moved to his back, lightly clawing at his shoulders. He let out a low growl as his hips snapped into yours.

You couldn’t take your mind off of his dick and how each vein dragged against your gummy walls. “Fuck, you’re so small, so fucking tight.” He groaned, leaning down and biting your earlobe.

He sat back, holding your hips in place on his lap, your legs still hooked over his shoulders as he pounded into you.

Your eyes crossed and your tongue lulled out, your body bouncing up and down the bed with every thrust.

Dave’s hand came down hard on your ass and you squealed in pleasure. His hand moved from your hip to your abdomen, he pushed down and you gasped softly. “Look at that, sweetheart,” he mused, “can see just how big I am inside you.” You looked down, eyes narrowing on where a bulge came and went, showing just how deep he was hitting inside you.

He kept pushing on your stomach and your eyes rolled back, a loud moan ripping from your throat. “Oh, fuck, squeezing me so good.” His own head fell back.

Dave’s movements stopped for a moment and he wrapped his arms around you. He lifted you up and carried you off the bed. “Look at that, I can fuck my perfect doll just like this, huh?” He asked, still snapping his hips into your as he stood.

You clung to him like a koala, moaning out in his ear how good he made you feel. “Davie-! Ngh, Davie, please.” His hands gripped your hips, guiding you on his dick.

“Please, what, sweetheart? ‘Oh, please, daddy, make me cum on your big cock’?” He asked in a mocking tone.

“Yes, daddy, please!” You whined. Your mind was racing with his cock, the bulge it made. His big hands over your body, carrying most of your weight, the way he bounced you on his length.

“Be good for me then and cum.” You didn’t need to be told twice, his words resonating in your body and pushing you over the edge. “Oh-oh, fuck!” Dave groaned. “Oh, god, you feel so good when you cum.” With a few more thrusts he was spilling into you, groaning in your ear.

He sat back on the bed and lifted you off of him, watching his own cum drip out of you. “Hmph, fuck.” You breathed.

“Don’t think we’re done yet, do you?” You chuckled and shook your head. “Good girl,” Dave hummed, “not done until my doll can’t walk.” He pushed back into you, your mind racing all over again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I just wanted to show this bc I thought it was funny

[glitterinmyveinss]

Hey er ive never done requests before and I don’t really know how to work tumblr at all so I hope I’m doing this right but anyways I saw your post about wanting someone to request Reese Wilkerson stuff and I just wanted to ask if you could make a post just for headcannons about him? I haven’t seen too many on here and I need them so bad 😭

ofc i can! tysm for requesting and ik a lot of other people sent requests for reese too n i'll get to them soon it's just i have an irl crush rn so the delusions aren't really delusioning apologies <3

Reese Wilkerson Hc's

ok i noticed that in the halloween episode in season 7 i believe he's wearing a misfits shirt !! so i think he would like punk, grunge, pop punk, and nu metal. like misfits, descendants, nirvana, limp bizkit, blink 182, sum 41, sublime, beastie boys, really anything punk related

definitely watches wwe and if you're over you're watching it too

he loves watching his favorite scary movies w you and he loves how you like them too!

if you don't like scary movies he dosent mind either bc that just means you'll be hiding in his arms the whole time so he wins either way

i feel like when he first met you he definitely played a prank on you to get your attention or just annoyed you but once you sorted that all out, you join him on his pranks and he swears he's never liked a girl more

if you're smarter than him and you offer to tutor him he'll only do it under one condition: he gets a kiss everytime he gets something right

might be self projecting but he's def a boob guy.

everyone has this image of him as some psycho tough guy but play with his hair and he'll just melt. especially if you have acrylic nails! his head will be in your lap while you guys are watching tv n you'll be playing with his hair and he'll be as quiet as a mouse and malcolm will just be like "how did you do that."

loves it when you borrow his clothes. especially his hoodies. it just does something to him

tbh i feel like he could go for someone with either a more edgier look ( think avril lavigne or bill kaulitz) or someone with the girly 2000s look ( think britney spears or any of the playboy bunny girls )

once you guys have an established relationship he'll spend all his time with you! at first he wasn't sure if it was ok but now that he knows you really like him he's so happy!

i don't think he's big on pda i think hand holding is as far as hell go but i don't think he minds if you kiss him on the cheek

but once you guys are alone omg

cant keep his hands off you!

he's either super horny or super cuddly no in between

you and him always get stuck babysitting jamie and he'll be doing the most normal thing like putting jamie's shoe on or feeding him and youre just stuck staring at him bc he looks so cute!

dates usually consist of movie marathons, him cooking something for you guys, concerts, theater trips, or something really spontaneous like taking a trip to another city just bc you guys were bored.

walks you to all of your classes <3

malcom n dewey really like you and think you keep reese sane

ties your shoes

if you guys have a class together he's always doodling in your notebook whether it's something cute or raunchy

i think he struggles with self image so he needs a lot of reassurance

if you have pets he somehow has an immediate bond with them. they just love him!

he try's really hard to remember things you like for future gifts/dates

i feel like he gives oddly specific compliments, but he has good intentions

"you smell like a slutty fairy"

"is that supposed to be a good thing?"

"duh."

the same way he secretly loves watching soap operas with his mom, is the same way he loves watching all of your shows. like the oc, dawsons creek, whatever you're into!

he would give the best and most thoughtful homemade gifts. tb to when he gave lois little jars of jam! he'd probally do something similar but according to your taste <3

gets jealous easily

it's hot/ cute tho

memorized all your favorite pastries/baked goods n makes them for you when he's feeling nice/ as an apology if he messes up

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 69

Part 1 Part 68

Eddie leans against the bumper of his van, legs crossed at the ankles as he smokes a cigarette. Bodies are flooding out of the school, but none of them are Steve’s so he holds his pose, hoping the way the smoke curls around his face makes him look cool.

He straightens his spine, elongating his legs and keeps his wrist artificially limp, posing like one of those cool guys in the cheesy action flicks Steve seems to like so much. No one looks his way, but it doesn’t matter – none of them are Steve Harrington.

Eddie looks around the parking lot, subtly looking for Steve. Steve who’d been so quiet during lunch. He’s been disappearing into himself for days, ever since that last trip to the lab. He’s been shrinking ever since, fading even when he’s right beside Eddie.

He's worried, obsessively cracking his knuckles enough that his fucked-up pinky has swollen in its socket. Jeff’s going to give him shit for it at next band practice when it jams up on another rift.

Eddie closes his eyes, grasping for the line connecting him and Steve. He can feel Steve heading toward the parking lot, creeping toward the edge of the school and out into the parking lot. Eddie straightens his posture from where he’d slumped into himself, taking a quick drag from the forgotten cigarette in his hand.

The smoke gets caught in his throat when he realizes it isn’t one bright spot converging on him, but two. Steve moving steadily from the school, and Will moving alarmingly fast toward him from the middle school. He drops the pose, turning to stare out across the parking lot and down the street, like he’ll be able to see the kid, even from this distance.

Even at his sedate pace, Steve beats him. He forgets the kid entirely when he comes into view. Steve’s nose is swollen, turning a ruby red, purple toward the edges of his eyes. There’s blood crusted beneath one of his nostrils.

He hasn’t seen Steve banged up like this since the hospital trip. Since Steve was lying on the ground, not breathing. Eddie moves without conscious thought – cradling Steve’s cheeks in his hands, uncaring of who sees and the consequences of them seeing it. He runs his left hand up, trailing it over the raised scar disappearing into his hair. Checking that it’s still there and closed. Checking when and where they are.

“What happened?” he asks, so beyond shaky that his voice comes out furious, even as his fingertips tremble.

Steve rolls his eyes, wincing and closing them when the movement jars his face. He takes a deep breath, in and out, before opening his eyes and taking a tiny step back with a wry quirk to his lips.

Eddie’s hands trail after him before falling, clenching on the nothing they hold, feeling bereft.

“Hargrove and Hagan in the gym, with a basketball.”

Eddie chews on the way Steve said Hagan’s name. Even after the year of silent treatment and checked shoulders, it was always Tommy. In their bed late at night, when Steve would clutch his teddy bear to his chest, it was always, always, always Tommy. No matter how bittersweet the stories he told got, Tommy was Tommy.

He says Hagan like it’s a bad word. Eddie wants to know what he did to make Steve sound like that. He clenches his fists against it, can almost feel Hagan’s cheekbone breaking beneath his knuckles.

But Steve’s curling into himself in the high school parking lot, so he pushes that all down and says, “oh, baby, you want to play Clue?” Eddie keeps his voice light and goading, the way it goes just before they find themselves wrestling on the living room couch before Wayne makes them break it up. “You could’ve just asked.”

Steve looks at him quizzically, clearly puzzled by the comment, but he’s stopped curling into himself like a potato bug, so it’s a win in his book. “What the hell are you—”

He’s interrupted by Will Byers stumbling into him, failing to stop in time from a full-tilt run. He gasps in the way only a nerdy kid can after being forced to run for their life. He’s hunched over, hands on his knees absolutely wheezing.

Steve reaches over, running his palm up and down Will’s back. “Stand up, dude,” he says, grabbing Will’s collar and forcing him upright. “That’s just restricting your lungs more.”

Will glares halfheartedly up at Steve before finally seeming to catch sight of his mangled face. He gasps, reaching up toward Steve’s face just like Eddie had before coming back to himself and looking around the parking lot furtively and pulling his hand back to his side.

“Dustin found something,” he says quietly, looking around himself suspiciously, like men in suits might jump out and black bag him at any moment. Although that’s not as big of a stretch as it should be. Not for them. “I think it’s from the Upside-Down.”

“Shit,” Steve says, turning and immediately hauling ass toward the middle school.

Eddie and Will stumble along behind him, far less athletically, barely dodging all the kids and cars clogging the parking lot.

“Where is it?” Eddie asks. “What is it?”

Will, still breathless from the last mad dash, wheezes out, “brought it to school,” and “escaped,” between pants.

Eddie stops, just for a second, too shocked to move, before he notices Steve’s figure disappearing around the bend and kicks it back into gear.

“He brought it to school?” he demands, shocked. But it’s Dustin, so of course he did. Eddie only hopes they get there before anything eats the damn kid.

Part 70

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect

[websterss]

CERTAIN — ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

REQUEST: Hello, I was wondering if I could request a Anthony Lockwood x reader where the reader is his best friend but they have feelings for each other and don’t realize it until they notice how different they treat each other compared to everyone else (if that makes sense-)? Just fluff please!

WARNING(S): just fluff

WORD COUNT: 3,106

PAIRING: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader    

A/N: Hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

Lucy and George had halted their chewing. Watching as you and Anthony worked in synchronization. The pair of you oddly knowing what the other one wanted, without question, without hesitation in any reform. It was undoubtedly so as you spread strawberry jam over Anthony’s toasted bread, whereas he had taken notice of the lack of liquid in your favorite green cup. He reached across you and poured you a good amount of orange juice. Never one for coffee or tea. You liked to drink it with pulp too. You had stopped talking, silently thanking him with a smile before you went back to conversing with Lucy, though she was hardly listening. Not really tuning into your ramble about a bloke who cut you off at Arif’s the other day. Unaware of her eyes flickering back and forth from Anthony placing and taking something in front of you, and you subconsciously making his plate. 

“You’re seeing it too right?” Lucy muttered under her breath, just enough for George to hear. He hummed as he bit down on his biscuit. 

Anthony had immediately taken the toast in front of him, cutting it triangularly with the butter knife. He bit into his own piece then held out his right hand for you to take the other half. Like second nature, you took it and began devouring. His head turned to confirm if you were okay and enjoying it. You hummed, your mouth full of food. You frantically pointed to your mouth and the rest of the piece in your hand. 

“Is it lacking jam...” He nodded. Though not needing another second before he wiped the knife clean on a napkin, and dipped it into the jar again. He gestured to hand it over to him, you mustered a muffled thank you. As you chewed faster. He clicked his tongue at you.

“Slower, you’ll choke.” He shook his head before handing you the rest to finish. You reached forward with your hand, but he tutted you with a stern raise of his eyebrow. You rolled your eyes, but obliged. You slowed your chewing, then finally swallowed it all down. “Wash it down.” He gestured to your orange juice. 

“No, I will not wash it down, give it to me!” You reached for it again, but he held it further from your grasp. “Anthony Lockwood, you dare deprive me of my breakfast.”

“I’d hardly call this breakfast, love. You could do a whole lot better with some eggs, or better yet pancakes. George, do we still have some batter left?” George flinched. Not expecting for the attention to be directed onto him.

“I-I’m not sure. I’ll have to check the pantry.” 

“Well, let me know if we’re out. I can make a quick trip into town for groceries again.”

“You already shopped for groceries though?” You raised a brow at him.

“I know...” He shrugged. “You’re out of those mini pretzel bites though.” The information he inquired was news to you. Your eyes widened, mouth agape. 

“No, I’m not, the bag was still half full the other day!” You could not believe your ears.

“I’m aware...” He slowly grimaced. The look of realization painting over your features made him stand out of his seat. The further the distance he set amongst you the safer he was. “But the thing is...I ate them you see.” He winced watching your face contort into anger. A frown dawning on your lips now.

“You ate them?” You slowly rose from your seat. George and Lucy reached for another biscuit, breaking the rule to only eat one at a time as they watched the scene unfold before them. This was reality tv at its finest. They both bit into their biscuits at the same time, eyes widened, wondering what would happen next. “You ate my bag of mini pretzel bites…”

“Now Y/n, lets not do anything irrational...” He held his hands out, slowly backing away from your approaching steps towards him. “I’m gonna go and get you some more. Swear on it.” He promised, hoping he could bribe his way from your death stare.

“Killing you seems rather rational to me.” He gulped nervously. “Better yet, it’s been long overdue!” You lunged forward but he veered left to flee your grabbing hands.

“Please.” The softness in his eyes almost made you grant him his life…almost. As soon as you mouthed for Lockwood to run, he high tailed it out of the kitchen. Struggling to open the kitchen door and make a break for his bedroom. Though he’d obviously have had a better chance to run out the front door and head to Arif’s. Surely you wouldn’t make a scene in a public place? Right?

Though he wasn’t as smart with his exit escape as he climbed up to the second landing. He tripped over his feet as you reached for his ankles. He let out a squeak of surprise. Lightly kicking you away, but also not trying to cause you any harm. 

Back in the kitchen, Lucy and Geroge strained their ears, wanting to hear the upstairs commotion. 

“Get back here, Anthony!” A loud slam of a door made them jump in their seats. George nimbles on his biscuit then turns to Lucy.

“How long you think till he realizes she can pick a lock?” 

“Lockwood has no clue she can. It might take him a minute for him to register it.” Lucy mindlessly eyed the side you two sat on. She reached forward for the piece of bread you didn’t eat.

“I told him not to do it.” George chimed. “He never listens though now does he. It’s like he enjoys making her chase him.”

“He’s in love, Georgie. He’d get himself ghostlocked just to get her attention.” Lucy grabs your cup of orange juice while taking a sip. 

“You’d think he would tell her by now…” George shakes his head. 

“You’d think she would!” Lucy looks at him with bewilderment. “Those two are as blind as Mrs. Chester’s cat.” 

“Her cat’s blind?” George narrows his eyes. Not yet registering. 

“Scuzzle? Yeah poor kitty…She says he walks into things. Leaves him with dizzy spells, but it’s the only way she ever finds him.” 

“Oh god…” George winces, imaging the poor woman following the sounds of thumps against surfaces.

“Yeah…” 

“How did you- Wait, wait!” Lucy and George shift their heads towards the hallway. 

“That didn’t take long.” Lucy grabs another biscuit. 

“Her best yet.” George stops the stopwatch that appeared out of nowhere. He shows it to Lucy who hums. Very impressed. 

“A minute and thirty. She’s outdone herself!” She laughs. 

“I said I was sorry-“ Lockwood’s cackles echo throughout the house. The lack of beatings told them that you weren’t really out for his head, just out for the common assault of tickling him. “I-I’m sorry. Stop, stop, stop!” 

The two snicker, amused by the whole ordeal. 

“Twenty bucks says he’ll finally cave and tells her.” Lucy turns in her seat, elbow rested on the tabletop to face George.

“Keep your money George. He’s going to tell her at the Fittes ball, especially after Kipps asks her to dance. As a matter of fact, they’ll both realize how blind they’ve been.”

“Why would Kipps ask her to- Oh!” George reels in on her implication.

“Yeah!” Lucy’s eyes bug out. A smirk present of her face.

“You’re gonna make them…” George makes two puppet hands and smashes the tips of his fingertips together to form a kiss. “I get it now.”

“Now all I need…is a plan.”

-

Once you all had made it to the party. You had imagined it like any other highly rich organization would throw a party. Many important people dressed to the nines. You’re formal attire nowhere near as luxurious as everyone else.

“Stop that now.” Lockwood looked around the room. You whip your head up at him, stoping the tug of your dress. 

“I’m not doing anything.” You furrow your brows and shake your head. 

“You’re fussing. You look beautiful...”

You roll your eyes, but the mark of his words leave your knees almost buckling.

“Y-You’re just saying that...” You tug down your dress again. The fabric insufferable against your skin.

“I say a lot of things, but l’d never lie to you.” His charming smile paints his face.

“Now you’re just being annoying.” You huff and fetch a glass from one of the trays going around. 

“I’d prefer the term honest.” He grabbed your glass and took a sip.

“Doesn’t suit you very well...” You take back the glass. 

“Well what does suit me-”

“What a pleasant surprise?” Your smiles slowly fades as the familiar voice appears from the sides of you.

“Wouldn’t really refer it to pleasantry. Rather more so unfortunate.” Lockwood smirked at Kipp.

“Lockwood.” Kipp cleared his throat and then shifted his attention to you. You frowned at your attire before your eyes met his own. “Y-Y/n you…you look magnificent.”

“Ugh!” You rolled your eyes and walked away from the two insufferable men in your life.

Kipp haven been taken back by your leave turns to Lockwood confused. “Was it something I said?” Lockwood looks your way with a sigh.

“Luckily for you…not this time dear friend.” He smirks and clasps a firm hand on his shoulder. “She’s been questioning her appearance since the moment we’ve left the cab.”

“Why on earth would she? She looks wonderful…” Kipps furrows his brows together. "I've just the trick.” He pats Lockwood’s shoulder this time and walks off after you.

You had barely gotten to the staircases when Kipps tapped your shoulder. “Let me speak with you for just a minute, please.” You glance down at your dress before looking up at him. The expression on your face says enough for him to charm you with a smile.

“What’s wrong with it?” He asks. With a scoff, you tug on your dress and try to straighten yourself.

"Everything. The dress feels short, these heels are uncomfortable, and my face has never felt more heavy. I look foolish."

“No, that’s not at all true.” His eyebrows knit together and a small smile plays the corner of his lips. “You, Miss,” He nods to your dress, “Look…beautiful.” He lets the word linger in the air. “You’re quite simply the most stunning woman in the room.”

"Alright sap, what do you want?" You look away as heat grows in your cheeks. "You're being more annoying than usual."

Kipps smirks a bit before stepping even closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “I need to know,” He leans in, “if you can dance.” Without waiting for an answer he places one finger on your chin and tilts your head up to his, his voice drops and becomes raspy. “Because I’d really like to ask.” He trails off letting his words hang in the air.

"You're being charismatic...because you fancy a dance?"

Kipps chuckles as you catch him in his attempts to sway you. "Would you turn me down if that is the case?" He extends his hand out to you.

"Lucy turn you down?" You tease.

The corners of his mouth twitch up at your taunt. "Never really bothered to ask? Shall we?"

"I don't know...I quite like my toes." You glance down at your heels.

"You'll get to keep your toes." He chuckles and extends his hand again. "Just a dance? Or are you afraid Tony will get mad?" Kipps looks back over to where Anthony is looking your way with a glass in his hand.

"Anthony? Why would his opinion decide my choices?"

"I don't know. You're always worried about his opinion. Why, I'm starting to think you like him, and he likes you." He gives a sly grin. "Given the way he looks at you and vice versa."

"I like him now, do I? What other assumptions have you conjured about what Anthony and I are to each other?"

"I just know that you act differently around him." He smiles slyly. "And he acts differently around you. Love, I've known him longer than you have, he doesn't just let anyone share a glass with him." He smirks as you realize he caught you and Anthony sipping from the same glass.

"You saw that- But that doesn't mean anything…" You exclaim.

"Oh, but it does." He chuckles as you turn away. "Or do you not notice how he always looks at you…how he can't help but stay close when he's around you? I've never seen Lockwood like this with anyone before. Anyone. The lads in love."

"N-No he's not." You glance over to where Anthony is still peering at the two of you. He notices your turmoil before he straightens up and begins making his way over.

Kipps lets out an amused cough. "See? There he is now. He cares more than you tend to realize, Y/n." He watches you and how you look away from Anthony. "I do quite envy him…" You look up with softened eyes.

"Kipps…" You sigh.

Kipps laughs, seeing you sigh. "I suppose you don't see it as that though. I won't pry anymore. But," He glances at your appearance again and then smiles as he lowers his voice. "I do stand by what I said before. You look magnificent tonight. I couldn't take my eyes off you the entire evening." His eyes dart around before settling back on yours. You look down at your shoes. "He holds your heart and you don't even realize the half of it..." He watches Anthony grow closer with interest, then turns back to you. He leans over and presses a kiss to your cheek. You close your eyes with guilt as he pulls away with a smile. "Perhaps our dance can wait another time. I'll see you around, Y/n." You watch him walk away, and look to your right as soon as you feel Anthony's arm brush against yours.

"What did he want?"

You smile at Anthony's eyes on you. "Eavesdropping now?" You tease, trying to hide the fact that Kipps had managed to catch you off guard with an unexpected compliment. To be completely honest, it pleased you. "He asked me to dance." You brush it off.

"S'not the trick I expected," Anthony mutters to himself. "I take it his walk of shame was you turning him down." He smirks.

"Maybe," You roll your eyes. "You jealous?" You snicker.

"Off Kipps. Please…" He shakes his head.

"Right. Of course not." You snicker again and give him a small kick. "You're such a liar, Tony." You look away, avoiding his smile.

"Tony now?" Anthony can't fight off the shit-eating grin on his face. "Oh, I sense trouble. What secrets did he spill now? You never call me Tony."

You bite back a giggle as he chuckles at the nickname. This wasn't the first time you had called him this though. "Shut up." You smirk at him as you glance away.

"I'm intrigued now. What did he say to you?" You groan and look back at him, smiling as you roll your eyes.

"It wasn't anything bad, swear." You fiddle with your ring. "He complimented me. More than once."

"And..." He extended.

"He said some things, but it's not important. You know how Kipps is." You gesture to the crowd around you. "All charm, no bite..." You cut yourself off as you grow timid under his watchful gaze. His teasing smile slowly vanishes when you continue to gaze at him with a new glint in your eyes, he knows that look all too well because he gives you the same one when you're not looking.

You nod, biting your lip as you wait for a response. You don't speak as you stare at him, searching for a sign that your feelings are reciprocated. He looks away, he's seen that look before, he's given that look before.

You notice his eyes glance from you to the crowds before looking back at you. You wait for his answer, it's what you've been waiting months to hear. Your heart beats fast in your chest as you anticipate a final judgment from him. You felt like you were going to explode.

"He mentioned that you…that you…" You start fidgeting with your ring again, twirling it between your fingers. "Hold strong feelings for me." Anthony closes his eyes, not thinking he'd ever have to admit his emotions to you in such a public scene. You glance over his shoulder, catching sight of Kipps tipping his full glass toward the two of you. You couldn't believe that Kipps would've said something like that, but you can't deny your excitement and the butterflies swirling in your stomach. The anticipation was overwhelming you.

His eyes shift from the crowds to you, and back again. You can feel your heartbeat picking up at the sight of his lips and how they're parted.

"He said you love me, that you've felt this way for a while…that you're certain of your love for me." You feel a surge of adrenaline run through your body as you stare at him in silence, anticipating his response.

"I am certain." He nods.

Your entire body felt like it was about to erupt. A jolt of excitement surges through you as your knees buckle slightly, and you start trembling. "So…you do?" You ask although it's completely obvious by the way he's gazing at you.

It seems impossible, you've dreamed of this moment for as long as you can remember, and here it is- right before you. Right here and right now. You felt like you could burst.

Anthony takes a step towards you. "Are you sure it wasn't just Kipps being his usual charming self?" He leans in, taking in a deep breath to smell your sweet scent. "I'm not sure I trust him to tell the truth about such a delicate matter…and-" You cut him off with a sweet kiss. He sighs and relaxes into the kiss. His arms snake their way around your waist to tug you closer.

You felt the electricity running through your veins, you could feel a smile plastered on your lips. Your whole body felt warm and tingly, all the while you couldn't take your eyes off of him. You knew what this meant. This whole night, the entire agency, your job, and all the ghosts you had hunted. None of it mattered as long as he was beside you. He holds you, the heat between the two of you radiates and you feel at home with him. You feel whole.

"I'm sure. I've never been more sure in my life than right now."

[brellafaun]

assorted small town au ramblings

all the hargreeves kids grew up in different houses with their birth moms but still went to the same schools together. lila was a transplant from the burbs and she was dying of boredom her first year there

a small mountain town just feels right. lots of woods to explore, plenty of places to hike- small enough that everyone is close, but spacious enough that it's not suffocating

i can picture some of the boys going hunting when the season comes around. diego would probably get really into it and five would be the best with a crossbow. everyone is down for fishing and screwing around at the local lake, though

speak of, hargreeves family cookouts monthly. everyone brings something and the kids run around while the adults just chill. either hosted by diego and lila's place or at the lake's shitty park tables

Luther is a math teacher at the local middle school (he is so smart. i will die on this hill) and adores his job. all the kids think he's the coolest person they've ever met. Sloane is the geography/history teacher down the hall. they make lunches for each other and spend their prep periods together. their students FREAKED OUT when they found out they were married. he works with the local scout troops over the summers and likes canoeing the best

Diego works with the local fire department (i can't make him a cop i'm sorry) and loves it. got really into axe throwing and wanted to teach Stanley, Grace, and the twins how to do it before Lila vetoed it. deer hunts in the fall, fishes as often as possible. epitome of girl dad, those kids have him wrapped around their little fingers. best bass player in town and avid enjoyer of the local bars' battle of the bands

Allison works with local government. amazing public speaker. lives in the heart of town with Ray and Claire, happier than ever. always the first to volunteer for Claire's school events- coaches for the high school volleyball team and is the best drama coach they've ever seen. surprisingly, loves camping the most out of anyone in the group. points out every constellation (she and Luther compete to see who can name the most) when they're outdoors and makes the best s'mores

Klaus sells the crochet and knit goods they make at local markets/the town festivals. has immaculate reviews on his etsy store. somehow pulls the best thrifting hauls with Allison and Claire. goes to the lake the most out of the group- loves to swim out and relax in the water. doesn't go on the hunting or fishing trips but does know all of the edible plant species they can forage locally. roomies with Ben and has a cat named Tango. keeps picking up DIYs in order to have excuses to visit Dave down at the hardware store

Five is the group cryptid. has a cabin in the woods somewhere. almost a full-on survivalist, bound to actually go feral someday. works with the town's historical society and archives. gets lunch with Herb and Dot semi-regularly. Mr. Pennycrumb accompanies him everywhere, and nobody argues with it. cans his own food and has bees on his property (he regularly leaves jam and honey jars on the others' porches and denies doing so). either the best dressed one at the function or wearing an awful fishing/hunting pun hoodie, no in-between

Ben is a librarian, and a kickass one at that. the best at story hour (his puppeteering skills with the octopus are immaculate) and incredible with multitasking. handles a bunch of finance stuff behind the scenes (diego and klaus are hopeless with taxes, five has almost been arrested for evasion). works on his motorcycle when he has free time and rides down to the valley to visit his girlfriend. presses wildflowers and helps at the community garden

Viktor works at the local music shop, Icarus Records. Luther is his most frequent customer and has probably bought at least half of their stock at this point. he's got more music knowledge than anyone else in town. loves going out on the hiking trails to play at the peaks- it brings him a sense of peace like nothing else. volunteers with the schools to teach music. still in his teenage band with Diego and Lila. visits his mom every week and sits out on the porch with her drinking sweet tea. budding romance with the newest transplant- a recently divorced woman from texas. (her son adores him already)

Lila also works with the historical society, but as the chaotic social media/marketing manager. she gets paid to meme and that's probably her dream career. attends every PTA meeting purely to psych out the other moms. drums whenever she gets the chance, absolutely demolishing everyone at the battle of the bands. chaotic evil driver- she learned with city traffic and assumes it makes her immune to the super windy roads. steals Diego's flannels and denies it

might make a separate post about their teenage years,,,

[3-2-whump]

The Morgue

<prev

Dear Readers,

Yep. This is it. Eternal's last chapter (at least for now). Thank you for sticking around for so long, I appreciated each and every one of you for reading this story and interacting with it! And thank you beta readers @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for reading draft after freaking draft of this story for months now; I look forward to collaborating with you in the future.

The ending is kind of open ended, and I acknowledge this may frustrate some people, but I promise I'm not gonna pull a Netflix and drop this series on a cliffhanger (looks passive-aggressively at Netflix). Whatever happens next is for tomorrow; today, without further ado, here is the conclusion to Eternal!

TW/CW: death of a major character, aftermath of death of a major character, gore /graphic descriptions of a corpse, blood, emotional angst (I think?), nonconsensual nudity, slave whump /transfer of ownership, defiant whumpee, creepy whumper

Khaled was more than a little concerned when he woke up the next morning and his master’s bedroom was still empty. He was downright worried that he had not heard even a word from him by midday. This is so unlike him, Khaled thought as he checked the spare phone for any text messages he might’ve missed in the night. No new messages. Where is he?

He went to his room and retrieved his hidden cellphone from the place he had hidden it. There was one new message from Julio, but Khaled quickly swiped past it to text the one other contact he had on this illicit device.

To: Nic-Nac Have you seen the Boss today? He didn’t come home last night.

The subtle click of the door unlocking made his heart jump into his throat. Khaled quickly hid the phone away, bolted into the living room, chucked off the blanket, and assumed a perfect kneeling positon by the entrance, back straight, chest out, palms down on thighs, just as he’d been trained. His heart sank as the door opened and a man who was definitely not his master entered the apartment.

“Throw a coat on and-” Underboss Luca dropped his gaze down at Khaled once he realized he was not at eye-level. “Oh, right,” he groaned, punctuating his comment with a dismissive eye roll. “Should’ve known you’d be on your knees.” Khaled’s cheeks flushed bright red. “Get up and put some clothes on, we need to go to the morgue and identify a body!”

The last part of that command jolted Khaled out of his conditioning as abruptly as a kick in the teeth. “Wait, what?!” he asked, straightening up from his kneeling position.

“Just get dressed and come with me!” Luca said. He fumbled around his pockets until he found a small key. “You know where the safe is; get your clothes, and let’s go,” he instructed, tossing it to Khaled.

The young man caught it and dashed to the safe in the master bedroom, unlocking it and sprinting with the pile of clothes in his arms to change in his own bedroom. As he quickly dressed, he had an unshakeable feeling of dread. Thomas not coming home at all last night, no communication this morning, Luca coming over, and now this trip to the morgue –it was all adding up. If his master was truly dead, then he had no idea if or when he would be back at the apartment.

Khaled saw the designated hiding space for his cash jar out of the corner of his eye. He yanked it out and emptied it onto the bed, quickly folding and stuffing the dollar bills into every pocket, fold, and crevice of his outfit he could manage. Lastly, he grabbed his forbidden cellphone from its hiding place and jammed it into his pants pocket as he sprinted out to meet his foreboding feeling head-on.

Luca filled him in on the details as they drove to the morgue. A little after six in the morning, a bloodied and mangled body had been found hanging upside down from a crane at the dockyard. The ID in the dead man’s coat pocket had identified him as Thomas J Costa, but his face was barely recognizable beneath the blood and gore. The forensic pathologist would need a positive ID on the dead man’s corpse before they could tell the coroner to issue the death certificate for Don Costa, hence the need for Luca and Khaled to come down to the morgue.

“You know, if it is Tommy-boy on that slab, all of his assets will immediately be transferred to my control,” Luca reminded him, snaking an arm around the young man in a feigned gesture of comfort as they walked to the entrance of the morgue. “All of them,” he whispered. Khaled bristled under the other man’s touch as Luca moved his hand downwards. He did not miss the hidden meaning of those words. He jumped a little as Luca experimentally groped his ass on the way through the entrance.

The forensic pathologist met the men, their androgynous face set into a grim expression. “Next of kin for Mr. Thomas J Costa?” they asked. Both men nodded. The pathologist waved at them to follow them. “I gotta warn you though, he’s not a pretty picture. I cleaned him up as best I could, but just be prepared.”

No forewarning could’ve prepared Khaled for what he saw when the sheet was lifted from the corpse on that autopsy table. He recognized the cold gray eyes that now stared unseeingly up at him, the telltale scar at the man’s left temple, and what remained of the skull and snake tattoo on the man’s left pec, but that was about it. The rest of his master’s body looked as if wild animals had gotten to it. His usual dirty-blond hair was stained a coppery red, matted in places with clotted blood. There were cuts, bruises, and even burns scattered around his face, disfiguring it into something near unrecognizable. A long, jagged cut ran from his jugular down to his sternum, deep crimson with coagulated blood that had long since stopped bubbling from its schism. Deep gashes of a knife punctured his upper body and torso. His privates were…gone… and his legs from upper thighs to ankles were littered in cuts and bruises. The soles of his feet looked as if they had been burned away. Merely looking at his feet made Khaled feel faint, so he let his eyes travel back to Thomas’ face. The man’s dull gray eyes stared up at him.

“Well, is this him?”

“Yes,” Luca answered solemnly. He quickly swiped a hand over his eyes and took a breath to compose himself before turning to Khaled.

No matter how much he wanted to, he could not tear his gaze from the man’s dead eyes. He gave a small nod, at a complete loss for words otherwise. The pathologist merely answered a quiet “okay” before draping the sheet back onto Don Costa’s mutilated body, shielding Khaled from those steel gray eyes forever.

It’s finally happened, he thought. Master is dead… Instead of hope, or sorrow, or anger, or even a sick sense of satisfaction from witnessing this karmic justice, Khaled searched within himself and found nothing. He felt nothing, and then he questioned what kind of person he was, to feel nothing.

“Khaled, hey, Khaled…” a faint voice called out to him through the fog of his mind. Khaled stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move as he stared down at the veiled corpse.

“Khaled, sweetie, it’s time to go.”

He’s dead now, which means…which means what? The feeling of Luca roughly pulling him away from the autopsy table and dragging him back the way they came answered his own question for him. All the while, Khaled took shelter in his thoughts, not even fighting back as he tried to process what he just saw and what it meant for him. The man who had fed me, clothed me, given me everything is dead, and now, what am I?

“Well, it looks like you’re mine now,” Luca announced, pulling on his leather gloves as they exited the morgue and stepped into the parking lot.

That snapped Khaled out of his mind quick. The man who had once openly said he would’ve taken him while he was still a minor flashed him a small, sad smile. “Of all the ways I could’ve gotten you, this is the last one I wanted,” he admitted. He raised a gloved hand to Khaled’s face, gently caressing his cheek with leather-clad fingers. “But maybe, together, we can help each other process our loss.”

No. Khaled shook his head. Luca’s soft caresses quickly hardened into a crushing grip on his face. He drew him in closer until their faces were mere inches apart. “You’re mine now, Khaled,” he growled, glaring into the young man’s eyes. “I never approved of the erratic, unpredictable way Tommy treated you, and I promised myself that when it was my turn, I would be better.” Khaled’s hands scratched at Luca’s arm, which only served to tighten the hand around his jaw. “But not if you’re going to fight me the entire time!” He drew Khaled in closer, too close for comfort, as he maintained that crushing grip on his face. “So, what’s it gonna be? You gonna be a good boy for Master, or are you gonna make me hurt you?”

Letting go of Khaled’s face to allow him to answer was the greatest mistake Luca would make. With a fierce desperation to die rather than be owned by someone far worse than Thomas, Khaled drew his head back and collided their skulls with a crushing force. Both men withdrew from each other, each groaning in pain as they held their heads, but Khaled recovered from the head-butt first, and used the ten-second head start to make a run for it out the parking lot.

“You bitch! Get back here, you stupid little slut!” and various threats of bodily harm were shouted at him as he ran. He kept running, even when he rounded the corner and an exposed piece of chain-link fence grazed his thigh, nipping the skin enough to draw blood. He kept running, even when he wasn’t sure which streets he was running down as he single-mindedly sprinted ahead, most definitely lost. He kept running, even as the tears blurred his vision and the cold air stung his throat and lungs, and every time he tried to blink back his tears all he saw were those cold, dead eyes staring up lifelessly back at him. He kept running.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire

[tossawary]

I'm going to rewatch "Revenge of the Sith" later and I don't remember the original trilogy all that well either, but... both "The Phantom Menace" and "Attack of the Clones" seem to suffer tremendously during their final battles because the films keep cutting away from the potentially dramatically and emotionally rich sequences to... the childish physical comedy adventures of sidekick characters.

I'm not going to pretend that "Star Wars" isn't incredibly silly at times. "Return of the Jedi" has the Empire being murdered by teddy bears with sticks at one point, and I am personally incredibly fond of this sequence and the Ewoks generally for no good reason I can name. But, from what I remember, that movie was better editing-wise about letting more dramatic sequences like Luke versus Vader breathe emotionally. We had some time to settle into these fights, to feel Luke's fear and anger, to see Luke's resolve, you know?

And in "A New Hope", the climatic dogfights involve people dying and it's treated quite seriously. A lot of lives are on the line with the Death Star's destruction. The characters go into the battle knowing that some of them won't make it back. And in "The Empire Strikes Back"... as far as I vaguely remember, there's not very much silliness at all at the end of that movie, the protagonists "lose" and all of the characters are in a lot of pain. The camera stays with them to show us their agony and grief and strength.

But in "The Phantom Menace", the film keeps cutting away from Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan versus Maul in favor of Jar-Jar Binks tripping over droids. Jar-Jar Binks fighting to defend his homeworld against an invading army, as his people die around him, is treated as an utter joke. Pure comedic relief with no substance at an utterly inappropriate time. They are undercutting the "war" in "Star Wars" that was a big part of its tone. The film doesn't bother to treat anyone like they or their lives matter in that sequence. And Anakin is in a ship he's struggling to pilot against an entire army, but we never get any real sense of him being afraid of dying in space or being at risk, as he almost accidentally saves the day. Padmé is just... fighting down hallways and it's kind of boring, both action-wise and emotionally. I spent most of the time wishing that the camera would just cut back to Maul again because that fight had actual, like, substance.

And in "Attack of the Clones", the film keeps wasting time cutting back to Threepio with his head accidentally stuck on a battle droid's body, when it's not even clear why he and Artoo are even there beyond just jamming them in as iconic figures from the original trilogy. They shouldn't be there!!! This is blatant shoehorning!!! This is valuable screentime that the Battle of Geonosis could use to focus on the Jedi who are being killed, on the separatists who are being invaded, or on the clones who have just entered the war. Mace Windu or Obi-Wan Kenobi reacting emotionally to the nameless Jedi being cut down around them would have been nice. The confrontations with Dooku could have dug deeper into the emotional and physical pain of his betrayal.

Mace Windu's fight with Jango could have been longer, instead, seeing as the hardest emotional beat we actually get in this film confronting the death of this battle is probably Boba picking up Jango's helmet. A kid has lost his dad!!! We could have seen any of the clones reacting to this, maybe? We could have seen Mace Windu telling Obi-Wan about Jango's death and then Obi-Wan belatedly realizing that they don't know what happened to Jango's child in the chaos. "The Clone Wars" television show ended up doing so much heavy lifting emotionally for this trilogy, because these movies are way too busy with unnecessary Jar-Jar Binks and Threepio physical comedy in all the wrong places.

"Revenge of the Sith" as far as I remember is at least too busy finally focusing on everything going to hell and the tragedy to fit in a jarring sidekick comedy sequence during any final battle. Can you even imagine? Anakin is murdering younglings and the movie keeps cutting back to Threepio and Jar-Jar tripping over droids and shrieking trying to escape Coruscant? I don't remember the movie that well. If there actually is a sidekick physical comedy sequence through the end of the fights in "Revenge of the Sith" that I have blocked from my memory, then I am going to scream into a pillow.

[yuu--dachi]

a joy to be hidden, a disaster to not be found

hewwo! it's my first fic in a while and also the first fic on this blog. wahoo!! and it's.... an x reader fic which i've also never done before!! and also for genshin!! wahoo!!

ships: alhaitham x reader / you (gender neutral)

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, lowkey pining from alhaitham, reader experiences a panic attack, written in reader's pov but switches to alhaitham for a bit at the end, alhaitham says Sorry cus i like to make him do that 😎

words: 4k (help girl how did i let it get this long...)

synopsis: in which a haravatat scholar realises that everything is not as simple as it is, our body betrays us at every second of every hour, and the three times alhaitham finds you, no matter what.

this reader is for all the babygirls (gender neutral) out there who feel things so deeply and we are all crybabies. i see you, i hear you, and i love you!! we're all bad bitches who are easily moved and touched by the world around us and that's lovely!! keep shining your light on this world, friends!

i'm taking requests for drabbles and quick fics or poetry! whatever inspo strikes me 😴

---

the first time he finds you, alhaitham says:

“the solution is quite simple.” 

and you find your fist in wanting of purchase in his face. 

“this wouldn't be a problem had you realised your limits before your entire body broke down. surely, i don't have to cite research papers for you to understand that it is important to take note of one's mental health accordingly, as an adult with agency in your own life? then you don't have to find comfort in the mouth of a beer mug.”

he was surprisingly chatty today, and at any other time you would have loved to relish in making him speak for so much for so long. getting him to talk so much was like trying to scrape the bottom of the jar for the last smidgens of berry jam, and you savoured it just as well. 

but not today.

“alhaitham, you're not in my shoes, so stop trying to make me walk down the same path you do.”

he tipped his head, confused. “what's wrong with my path? i have no relationship problems—”

“because you don't maintain any.”

“—no financial burdens—”

“because you don't spend it on anything.”

“—and no personal problems.”

“because you don't bother with anything you don't care for,” you sighed out. 

“if i didn't maintain any relationships, then why am i here? and if i didn't spend any money, then why is the bill under my name? and if i didn't bother with anything i don't care for, then why am i with you, right now, instead of reading at home?”

he flicks your nose; you sniffle in response and bury your face into the hard table, slightly damp from your tears.

“i don't know,” you whispered, the words leaving you without a thought. “why are you here, alhaitham?”

“if i follow your reasoning, it's because i'm bored, have money, and don't care to be anywhere else. does that answer satisfy you?”

a silence between both of you, even though the tavern was filled with the sound of chatter and the tinkling of dishes and cutlery. “...no.”

“then why upset yourself?”

you remove your face from the table and look at him, despite your eyes red and puffy from crying, nosy runny, and a wood grain pattern imprinted on your cheek and forehead. “i just wanted to hear you say it.���

he hums, thoughtful.

(despite his demeanour, he was rarely thoughtless about anything. even if he didn't make decisions you would've done.)

“because i care about you,” he let the words out slowly, like testing how they roll off the tongue. like learning a new language. “is that alright?”

you plant your face back into the table, all too-aware of your red eyes that must've sparkled, your lips that wanted to become a songbird in return for such simple words. “mm-hmm. thank you.”

“you're very welcome.”

***

the second time alhaitham finds you, you are under a table. 

“go away for a bit,” the words come out of your mouth clumsily, like tripping over your own feet in haste. “this one's t-taken.”

your humour probably didn't land as well as you hoped. the stuttering of the heart in your chest beating like a butterfly's wings in flight, like it had ambitions of flying out of your chest instead of remaining behind your ribcage where it belonged. to your credit, it was hard to think of a joke in the middle of everything that was happening in your body. you would've rated yourself fairly well, all things considered.

alhaitham didn't seem to agree, although he didn't frown at you. he tends to voice out his disagreements vocally rather than through things like body language—you know, like a machine would when you press the wrong button? 

if he knew what i'm thinking right now, he would probably say that it's one of the virtues of studying under haravatat—classic alhaitham!

instead of saying anything immediately though, he sat cross-legged in front of you, his eyes wandering, seemingly…. observing? what was he looking at? you're sure you could've tell if your mind was clearer, but you couldn't at the moment.

“does it not hurt?” he asked, then, from your face dipped over your hunched knees, you heard two raps of a knock on the desk. “this is the desk made with athel wood, isn't it? it's very durable, but it's difficult for the city craftsmen to make full use of them right now because of how hard it is. the edges don't look sanded enough.”

“i-it's fine,” you choke out, and then breathed in and out for a proper response. “i don't mind it so much.”

he raised a brow in return. oh, you think, so now he's going to use body language, is he? 

too bad you couldn't savour it this time too. 

“as long as it's pressing against me, i'm… okay.”

you hear him hum in understanding, like he does when he reads a well written proposal. 

“is that why you chose this desk in particular? the others were too high and wide and you couldn't make contact with the wood?”

before you realised it, it was easier for you to speak now, even though your heart was still pounding, and your skin felt raw. you didn't usually try to talk when you were experiencing… whatever this is. 

“yeah. i just need… to feel safe.”

before you realised it, your face was no longer tucked between your knees, but instead resting on them as you avoided looking him in the eyes. 

“i see,” he said, and he paused before saying: “would you mind if i tried something?”

you hesitated, and your eyes finally meet. “i don't know, what are you going to do?”

“i'm going to hold you in my arms,” he said, and switched from sitting cross legged to having his knees tucked under him, arms open and his hands stretching for yours. “if you don't mind.”

in any other situation, you wouldn't have minded. you'd say: maybe it'll start snowing in the desert today! should we start preparing for the oncoming winter?

but now….

you were a mess—just like you were in the tavern that night, too. red ringed on your puffed-up eyes, sweat drenching your clothes and making your back feel as humid as the rainforests at night, and you could barely eke out a word before seemingly using up every bit of air in your lungs, like a newborn babe that only knew how to cry.

you didn't know how to tell all of this to alhaitham. sorry, can i go change into better clothes first? can i save this hug for another time when i'm completely sane and sober to take full advantage of it? can you wait till i ice my eyes so i can look at you properly?

instead, what came out of your mouth was: “i'm disgusting right now.”

he hummed, and you weren't sure if it was his i'm-considering-how-to-reply-to-this-idiotic-situation hum or i-see-where-you're-coming-from hum.

“i can see why you'd think that, but that's irrelevant.”

ah. so it was both.

“why do you want to hold me?”

“i want to see if i can do a better job than a desk,” he says, and you feel a smile ghost your face, only because you see him wearing one too. a small smile, simple like him. 

“i probably smell really bad. i'm sweating so much right now.”

“that's fine. i'll stop breathing through my nose.”

“my eyes are really red too. it's not that i don't want to look at you, it's that i'm too embarrassed to.”

“i can just close my eyes.”

“my heart is pounding really painfully right now, and it's hard to talk.”

“i'll ask questions that are easy to answer then.”

finally, you relented. “...is it really okay?”

“yes.”

after you confirmed that he couldn't smell you and couldn't see you, you slowly inch from under the desk and into his lap, where he then wrapped his arms around you. not tightly or passionately, but a sort of reassuring grip—like he wouldn't let you fall.

“how does it feel?”

“you're probably better than my desk,” you laughed out, and the sound felt strange to your ears, just moments after you were alone and crying and hyperventilating under a desk in a room by yourself.

“glad to be of service.”

you laughed again. “i don't think even the other sages from the akademiya can ever get you to say those words.”

“because they can't. if any of them leapt into my arms asking for a hug, i'd redirect them to doctor zakariya.”

you laughed again, and you were glad you made him promise to close his eyes. the sight of alhaitham smiling slightly at you, and the sight of your smile looking at him would've convinced anyone that you were starstruck by him. you didn't feel up to being publicly humiliated at the moment. 

the two of you spent the next few minutes—which felt like hours—in each other's embrace (well, yours in his, mostly), and soon your breathing steadied. from the high tides and low crests of your chest rising and falling asynchronously, it returned to the rhythm of the afternoon tides of port ormos.

although it was a difficult question to ask, you asked anyways. “are you not going to ask me what happened?”

“one of the six sins of any scholar under the akademiya is to interfere in human evolution,” he began, and you felt a smile coming before he even finished. “i assume it was your body's way of protecting you against a threat. although—” 

he opened his eyes, and you would've tried to stop your smiling by any means before he could see you, but he was wearing a smile of his own, and you couldn't help but dig your fingers deeper into his arms. 

“—the nature of the threat and it's scale remains unknown to me still. you have a way with handling problems, after all.”

you gave him a big smack on his chest, fists closed for maximum impact. “ouch!”

how did that hurt you instead of him?

“a good rule of self defense is hard parts against soft targets, and soft parts on hard targets. you shouldn't have closed your hand. a slap would work better.”

“how was i going to know your chest was literally rock hard?!”

“i thought you might have some inkling. i've noticed your stare a few times before.”

you wanted to throw yourself into the abyss.

you couldn't, so instead, you took his hand and bit his fingers as the next best thing. 

a small ouch sounded from him, though you couldn't tell if it was genuine or for the sake of making you feel better. you laid your head back against his chest, arms now wrapped around him in return.

“thanks, alhaitham.”

“you're very welcome,” he muttered in response, and you almost didn’t hear him.

“you’re not going to tell me that the solution is simple, or that i was the one that caused this thing in myself?”

he hummed.

“no,” he started, and you wanted to collapse in relief. “i am a scholar of haravatat, not amurta. i don’t understand the subject matter enough to say in any confidence or plausibility that the way your—or anyone’s—body works is simple. if it was that simple, then we wouldn’t have an entire field dedicated to it. and i do wish it were that simple, sometimes. then perhaps so many scholars wouldn’t have written audacious sounding proposals that i’d have to read thoroughly just to reject.”

you snickered. “what does haravatat’s wisdom has to say about me?”

for a moment, you see his eyes soften, straying away from yours.

“that your body failing you is not a moral or intellectual inadequacy on your part. that we do not have full control of ourselves, even if we would like to. that, perhaps…”

“perhaps?”

his gaze returns to you. “...perhaps, we are all more fallible than we see ourselves.”

“only you see yourself as infallible. i know very well how my body betrays me every second of every day. it’s one of the things that comes with being in touch with my own emotions, don’t you know?”

the teasing was meant to be lighthearted, as you knew he didn’t mean anything he said before in a dogged way. his words was not thorny on purpose like a bramble bush, just rough to the touch like a tongue’s cat. there were days where his words striked too much like an arrow through you, and days where the coarseness only brushed your ankles like standing in sand. you loved and cared for him despite that.

suddenly, he pulled you tighter against him, and you squeaked. “alhaitham? Is everything okay?”

no answer. you shifted in your position to make yourself more comfortable, and with whatever left strength you could muster, you rub your hands over his back in calm, soothing circles. “there, there.” 

your voice reverberated through your body, and you continued to hold him reassuringly, hoping that enough exposure to having him be so close to you would cure your racing heart and your voice, almost crumbling at his touch.

it was good how self conscious of yourself you were. then, you wouldn’t be able to tell that his heart was racing, too. 

***

the third time he finds you, it was not so much being found as it was being chased.

it was just one of those days that went wrong in every way it could’ve gone wrong. you stubbed your toe after getting out of the shower, your research project was going nowhere despite your multiple reminders to your groupmates, and even the way the sticky-sweet baklava clung to your teeth annoyed you.

worst of all, you had a fight with alhaitham.

now that you think of it, it could hardly be called a fight. you’ve seen full-grown adults in akademiya gowns act pettier in a structured debate, and you were sure that if you had asked alhaitham—truly asked, with no contempt or malice—he would’ve presented to you a perfectly reasonable explanation why he didn’t act like an asshole and moreso sounded like one.

right. the only person that was taking things too seriously was you. it had always been you.

it wasn’t that you wanted to be less emotional. you had spent too much time in your formative younger years denying the fact that you simply felt things more deeply, more quickly, than others. it was difficult to accept that you simply had thinner skin than most people—that, on a bad day, the veil of privacy that stood between your emotions and the outside world was nothing but sheer silk that fluttered all too easily with an evening breeze. 

the ‘fight’ was nothing spectacular, either. It wasn’t as if you two were having an intellectual discussion as two scholars, rigorously going through peer review on a research paper. it wasn’t as if neither of you would come out of it having respected each other a little less.

but, like the person that you are, so tethered to the heart that it kept your feet frozen sometimes, it had hurt you deeply.

it truly was nothing spectacular. you simply wanted to vent about your terrible groupmates, and you thought that it would be nothing more than a venting session over drinks, getting sober, and then buckling down to do the job once you were ready again in the morning.

but it escalated. he, also seemingly irritable that night, kept bringing up questions, solutions, to your dismay. at any other time, you would’ve let it slide and shelved it as simply alhaitham being alhaitham—a man who wanted life to be simple and easy, fixing problems before they sprung. however, what you needed that night was not a fixer or a tinkerer with all his haravatat wisdom. you needed alhaitham the drinking buddy, the one that would foot the bill, the one that held you in his arms and wanted to be of more comfort than the desk you hid under.

“i just wish you would just—listen!”

“i am listening. it’s just that it’s difficult to keep my words to myself, seeing as this problem can be easily fixed, if you weren’t so fixated on unnecessary things.”

“unnecessary? i don’t like them, but it doesn’t mean that i want to snitch on them!”

“what’s stopping you? they clearly don’t respect you. who else can they blame but themselves as the logical consequence of their actions if you do tell on them? they are adults in their own capacity, and the akademiya is not a place for people to loiter around, seeking for forgiveness for one’s own incompetence. their lesson is theirs to learn.”

“i have my own way of fixing things, alhaitham. you may not care about other people’s feelings, but i do! and i’d rather work it out clearly with them rather than resort to underhanded tactics just to have my life go a little smoother.”

“then tell me, why hasn’t your way of fixing problems worked? only an idiot would employ the same methods over and over again, hoping it’ll work the next time.”

he didn’t call you an idiot directly, but he didn’t have to. the insult found its way to you just the same. 

even if you did, you couldn’t fully deny it either. in the perspective of alhaitham, perhaps everyone else other than him was a dimwit full of hot air. the thought that the same applied to you, who you thought had a pretty close relationship with him, stung the most. 

he had tried to talk to you and reach out multiple times (although, by your estimates, his attempts were somewhat weak and clumsy), and you kept him out of your house with a badly made sign that said ‘TRESPASSERS BEWARE’ above an aranara carving that looked—in your opinion—pretty scary.

on these days, it was difficult. you couldn’t touch yourself, feeling so raw that you feared that wherever your hand brushed, you would come away bleeding. 

there were at least some good news though: your groupmates finally decided to cooperate with you for the project, and you were extremely thankful for it. it turns out that they all had personal issues that made it difficult to speak out on, and now that they realised that you wouldn’t judge them for whatever excuse they may have, they confided in you, and everything went as smoothly as you could hope for.

the four of you celebrated at the tavern, drinks in hand at 3 p.m. in the afternoon. the boss, seeing this particular group of inebriated students, simply shook his head and smiled defeatedly. by the time the sky changed colours, only you were left sitting alone at your table after having escorted the other three to their homes to get some well-earned rest. you would have left soon after, if not only for the fact that you had ‘bumped’ into alhaitham and he ordered a drink to have at your table.

“i was right,” was the first thing you said to him, and you enjoyed the look on his face when the words left your mouth. “i was right. everything turned out like i hoped it would.”

he tilted his head. “surely you can’t expect for luck and fortunate circumstances to befall you every time?”

“i don’t. i don’t, but… i’ll keep doing what i’m doing. i like it when everyone is happy. things won’t always go the way i want them to, but i’ll keep doing it, because it’s important to me that i try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, that i don’t walk the easy road if it means i’ve passed by something meaningful just to suffer a little less in my own life.”

“you sound like kaveh.”

you chuckled. “that sounds like a compliment to me. thank you.”

when his drink arrived, alhaitham nudged it your way across the table. you raised a brow. “what’s this for?”

“to say i’m sorry.”

“words aren’t enough for you?”

“words are only enough for people who trust others to tell the truth,” he paused, then added: “and i don’t.”

you hummed, then leaned back in your chair. “pretend, then, that we are two people who trust each other to tell the truth, and that we would believe in each other no matter what. what would you say?”

his green-red eyes flickered, and you didn’t know from what. if it was with other people, you could hazard a guess, sure—but alhaitham was different from the people you’ve met, and you did not want to presume what his heart feels.

(even if he claims that it’s only there to keep him alive.)

“when i couldn’t see you, i still thought of you, and i didn’t know what to do. i want to apologise for insulting you with my words, even if i didn’t mean to. i failed to calculate the exact way they had sounded until it reached my own ears and i saw how hurt you were.”

you said nothing, but nodded slightly as a go-on.

“i like it when things are simple, but that didn’t mean i wanted you to be simple. i just wanted things to be simple for you, and i unreasonably tried to force my perspective onto yours and ended up hurting you in the process. and for that…” he seemed to have trouble wrangling the words out of his throat, and you would’ve laughed if he didn’t look so pained. you reached out for his hand on the table, resting yours atop his. “...and for that, i am deeply sorry.”

you hummed. another moment to savour. 

there  was still one more thing you needed to clear up, though.

“...do you think i’m an idiot?”

unlike mere moments ago, the words shot out of his mouth before he even tried to rein them in. “no. not at all. i’ve never once thought you were.”

you smiled at him, somewhat self-deprecatingly. “but you don’t like how emotional i am.”

“it’s not a matter of liking or disliking. your emotions serve a purpose in your decision-making. it’s simply that… i do not like the experience of having to see you go through things that hurt you, even if you’re willing to do so.”

ah, so that’s what it is.

“alhaitham, do you care about me?”

his eyes, previously unfocused, darted back to meet your unflinching gaze. “have my actions indicated otherwise?”

you couldn’t help it. you snorted. “alhaitham, the line between caring for a person’s wellbeing out of courtesy rather than concern is a very thin line. at least, for the rest of us who you might call ‘drama queens’ and ‘fake socialites’.”

maybe he didn’t realise it, but his brows scrunched under your scrutiny, and you couldn’t help but feel joy at the fact that you made alhaitham, someone so aloof and disenchanted, truly perplexed.

“do you not know the answer already?”

“i do,” you say, and you were sure that your smile was infuriating him now. “i just wanted to hear you say it.”

a silence between both of you, even though the tavern was filled with the sound of chatter and the tinkling of dishes and cutlery. 

“i do care for you. deeply. does this answer satisfy you?”

“yep!” you smiled, and alhaitham wasn’t one to offer prayers of gratitude to the sevens above, but he was glad that you were so self-conscious of yourself to be blind to the way he leaned forward in his seat, his one hand tightly clutched under the table, and the way he wished he could bottle your smile and indulge in it on a rainy day, if he could.

ah well, alhaitham thought, tomorrow is another day without them realising. 

[tainted-liquor]

'Kick The Radio!

Hobie Brown x BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: Sugar, kisses, and a lil bit of smiles! TWs: Chaotic Hobie, Cockney slang LMFAOO, cussin' W/C: 1.3k A/N: British ppl please correct the slang tyvm

"For the last time, I'm a good driver! Swear it!" Hobie reassured as he threw a smaller size suitcase in the backseat of his van. You had reluctantly agreed to go on a road trip with him across the country just a few days prior, but you weren't sure if you wanted Hobie to drive on account of him not having an actual license. "Babes, I can drive. I jus' don't 'ave an official card that says so!" he giggled, grinning ear to ear as if he wasn't just confessing to putting both your lives at risk. "'M not so sure I want you driving, Hobie..." You muttered, throwing your small suitcase in the back alongside his as you climbed into the passenger seat. "Relax, dollface! We'll be alright, jus' need'ta find my daisy roots..." he said, diving in the back seat for his extra pair of chunky black boots and blue laces.

He emerged a couple seconds later, a small grin on his face as he showed you his 'nature boots', the ones he only used for trails or hiking. "Baby, why are all your laces blue?" You asked, tilting your head to the side as Hobie started up the car. "Why do you think I don't have a license?" he 'answered', patting the side of your face gently as he backed out of his parking spot just a few feet away from the dock. You hummed to yourself as you got out on the road, mumbling song lyrics occasionally as you tapped away on your phone. "...I get my kicks on and I wanna start a rager..." you murmured, quickly shutting up when you heard an "Oi! No green day nonsense in my jam jar!" from Hobie.

"Damn nigga, well then turn on the radio!" You giggled, attempting to change the station and turn up the volume. "Y'gotta kick it" Hobie stated as normally as ever. "Huh?" you asked, eyes widening as a confused smile grew on your face. Hobie laughed, shaking his head as he gave the firmest kick to the car radio you'd ever seen him give. The car shook with the force of his boot, eyes widening as music suddenly began to play out of the speakers.

You both erupted in giggles, fighting for your life as you both realized just how bad Hobie's car was. He could always fix it anytime he wanted, he just chose not to. Spewing something along the lines of how it 'gives the car personality' and he doesn't feel like spending time on fixing something when it still...'works'. You let the music invade your ears, feeling your body vibrate slightly with each bass thump. Hobie used one hand to guide himself through the road, and another to drum his finger against your thigh as he found his natural comfort with the music.

"Chain-gang chainmail, I DON'T THINK AT ALL!" he sang, clearly in his own little world as you giggled at his cute self. You nodded your head to the music, staring at the cars and trees passing by through the window. "Hey, Hobie?" You began, slowly facing him as you realized you had no idea where he was going. "Yea, luv?" He answered, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him as he turned down the radio to hear you better. "Where we goin'?" You asked as you reached back awkwardly into the backseat, snatching the fuzzy blanket Hobie purposefully kept back there for you and throwing it across your body.'

"No idea." He laughed, clearly driving around with no real goal. "We'll find out when we get there!" He smiled, turning up the heat in the car slightly as you nodded in disbelief. You both vibed to the music flowing from the radio, talking about various topics that appeared in your head. "Think 'm just a cat person, luvvie. Dogs get acclimated to a schedule, cats do whatever they fuckin' want, yea?" he explained while he made a sharp right, finding himself parking next to a random city you'd never even seen in your life. "Hobie...how the fuck did you know this was here" you gawked, becoming utterly confused as you cautiously climbed out of the car. "Didn't!" he shrugged, gently grabbing your hand and pretending to help you out of a carriage.

You set off down the unfamiliar city, purchasing various sweets and snacks from small businesses and thrift stores. "Hobie, look!" You squealed as you held up the rabbit plushie, a massive grin on your face as you displayed one of its floppy ears. "Look at tha'! Put it in the trolley n we'll get it, right?" he said as you handed him the small bunny, skipping off to hopefully find more of its variants in a further section. Unfortunately, you didn't find another version. So you made your way over to the counter, paid for your items, and left the store clutching a stitched and stuffed bunny. "Y'gonna name him?" Hobie asked, raising his shoulder as a form of pointing to the stuffed animal.

"Like a baby?" you giggled, rolling your eyes jokingly. "Yeah sure, I'll name our son. Hoppart Jr." You laughed, in danger of losing your footing as you stumbled due to your violent giggles. Hobie gave you a small look of disapproval before bursting out into laughter beside you. "Alright, alright. Your son, you can name him whatever" he shrugged with a toothy grin. "OUR son" you corrected as Hobie opened your car door, chuckling and snorting as he shook his head. "OUR son" he echoed as he dove into the driver seat.

You set off on the road again, conversing and joking about everything under the sun while holding your 'son' on your lap, examining the new plush you'd add to your collection. "I think we should give him piercings" Hobie commented as he drove with...one hand yet again. "WHAAAT!? You wanna give your baby piercings!" You joked, pretending to gasp and cover Hoppart Jr's ears. "People do it all the time! Plus, you can't tell me it wouldn't look cool on that plush" he explained as a smile crept up onto his features. "Yeah, you're right I think I'll put some on him when we get home" You nodded, turning the plush to face you as you mapped out what areas you'd pierce. You rested the plush back on your lap, covering the both of you with the fluffy blanket as you stared out the window.

The sky was turning a sugary shade of pink, the sun hanging low to your left, tucked in between fluffy clouds as you felt yourself mellow out. "Y'alright, luvvie?' Hobie asked, glancing over to see you leaning on the car window, staring at seemingly nothing as you got quiet. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, babe. Just a lil tired..." you answered, voice sounding softer and lower than usual. "Ah, Okay. Can you stay up for me a lil longer? Wanna show you something later" He cooed, gently rubbing your shoulder as you nodded. "Y'can sleep all you want after, dove I swear" he added as he sped up slightly.

You battled sleep for roughly 30 minutes, watching as the sky transformed from pink and orange to dark and blue. "C'mon, luv let's go" Hobie whispered as he scooped you up from the passenger side, parking the car in a random field. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning your head against his shoulder as he raised himself out of the van's sunroof. He found purchase on the roof of his car, turning you around on his lap so you could see the breathtaking view of the night sky with little to no light pollution. You watched in awe as the stars illuminated the night sky, finding refuge perfectly in every speck of empty space around the moon.

"Damn...'s fuckin' amazing, Bee. Can't tell me this wasn't planned" You smiled, staring up at the speckled inky black sky, grinning tiredly as Hobie wrapped both arms around your waist and rested his chin on your head. "This bit was, yeah. I wanted to show you since I know you love staring at the moon...for whatever reason" he sniggered. "Wow! Such a gentleman" you joked, pushing back on his chest to shove him without moving your arms.

"Thank you, my love."

"Ya welcome, lil Dove"

TAGLIST FORM HERE!! NEEDED TO ORGANIZE SOME SHIT MY BADDD

©Talia's Ish! Pls don't be a trifling thief !

[espresso-lessdepresso]

r9

fluff

t/w: none

a/n: haha...im like 5 months late but I'm here^^ [covered in blood and sweat, beaten and bruised, eyes red and burning from the seething smoke from the 7th ring of hell]

The evening had darkened by the time the two of you met. Your busy lives had kept you apart most of the day. The February winds were still cold as you walked alongside your tall lover. His jacket had already been placed around your shoulders before the chilly weather could bite.

“I didn’t take you for being all sweet and romantic like this.” You said. In one hand was a tall bouquet of red flowers and in the other would have been Schlatt’s hand if he hadn’t covered your eyes. 

“You’re ruining it.” He spoke as he tried to guide you, making sure you didn’t trip on anything. 

“I’m just saying-” You tried to argue.

He huffed, “'saying' ruins it.” 

“...This is just very unexpected,” The feeling of your hand reaching up and closing over his made Schlatt’s face warm, distracting him from his task of leading you. “and very lovely.”

The sky was painted with deep shades of purple and blue. The little clouds in the sky let the moon shine gracefully below and the stars twinkled. You did not know where you were nor did you know where Schlatt was taking you. Not being able to see made you focus on the sounds you were hearing and the earthy fragrance. The ambience of the city and the sound of traffic were entirely gone. Instead, it was replaced by the ruffle of trees swaying by the wind and the occasional low murmuring of people. You felt the ground beneath you sink a little as you stepped off what you assumed to be a stone path and onto the grass. 

“Okay...” Schlatt whispered, more to himself than to you. He was biting the inside of his cheek, a little nervous since this would be the first time doing something like ‘this’. He was even slightly embarrassed, but he wanted to do this. For you. You deserve nice things like this.

Standing behind you, Schlatt’s hands fell from your face and rested on your shoulders. The wind picked up your hair, twirling it around your face. Your eyes did not need to adjust to the light as the evening was already dark. When your eyes were drawn to the sight in front of you, you felt your heart truly swell.

Who cares if it was a bit cliché, you loved it. 

Fairy lights lit up the area, glowing around the large red and white chequered sheet. You didn’t know what to look at first. Two wine glasses stood on a wooden tray next to the bottle of wine. A charcuterie board was lined and filled with cured meats and various cheeses, olives, nuts, and small slices of bread which had little jars of jam beside it. When you look over at the pizza boxes, you can feel a smile curling your lips; is this possibly why he got all frustrated when you couldn’t choose what was your favourite food? Well, pizza is always a safe bet. 

Everything was so scenic. Too scenic even. Schlatt had picked a spot in the park which wasn’t too secluded from the main area, but a fair distance away for the both of you to have some privacy. Where behind you was the path back to the centre of the park, to the right was a garden of freshly bloomed flowers, their sweet and earthy scent lingering in the air. And ahead of you, the view if you will, was the park’s quiet and still lake. You’d never thought you’d be able to experience something like this- straight out of a movie or novel. 

Schlatt’s hands moved lower from your shoulders to your waist. You’re pulled back from the astonishment as he brings you into a hug. Still chewing on the inside of his cheek, he waits for you to say something. 

With your back against his chest, you look up. Your boyfriend. Your sweet boyfriend. Schlatt’s face is framed by his beautiful brown curls and eyes glittering from the fairy lights. He was illuminated by the dark purple sky behind him. Seeing your smile, he couldn’t help but mirror you. 

His brows lift up, still looking at you, asking without having to speak, Well?

It was only then you realised how long it had been since you were like this. Together. Very much wrapped up in each other with no space between you two to keep you apart. No office calls interrupting you and no busy schedules keeping you from seeing one another. “You put so much work into this Schlatt, I love it.” Your voice feels incredibly warm and sweet to his ears. Schlatt had a smile that stretched across his face, making his eyes crease into the shape of half-moons. “...I love you.” 

A beat passed. 

Schlatts face shifted to a surprised expression, his eyes wide and mouth open, as he let his head fall back. He chuckled, ”Finally!” You looked at him with confusion. “I thought...Ah, I thought I was the one who’d have to say the ‘three magical words’ first.” 

“YOU! HOW DARE-!” He cackled as you fake-fought with him, landing punches on his chest and arm that didn't really do much harm. He pretended to be in pain from the punches as he tumbled down onto the picnic blanket, pulling you down with him. 

Schlatt has his arms around you once again, just unable to ever let go of you it seemed. With one hand, he helped fix your ruffled hair, “I love you too doll.” 

Schlatt won’t say it, but he knows he did Valentine's Day right, just for you.

++++++

Engage and let me know if/how you like the writing. Reblogging/Sharing is much appreciated.

master list

[bwabys-scenarios]

Hi hi it’s your favorite sleepy fic advisor/Kurapika stan!!! I’m playing hooky to go to the lake today fuck a minimum wage job in a capitalistic hell world heehoo

What do you think Kurapika’s love language(s) is/are? He’s a thoughtful dude, so I feel like gift giving is his time to shine, but at the same time acts of service when you’re overworking yourself- ugh he’s such a sweetheart lich rally the perfect man 😫💗

My own bf just snagged me a record player at a garage sale yesterday after years of having his own record collection and begging me to start one as well. The first thing I did was order Hozier’s new album. I could see Kurapika doing something similar, especially with how they both share an mbti type :’) cozy nights spent listening to vinyl music. He gets a gift that you’d love, not expect, and could enjoy for a long time together. He checks off the Perfect Gift Trifecta every time.

I’m all over the place here, it’s earlier than I normally wake up and my ADHD meds haven’t quite kicked in yet I apologize. Brainstorming with you and helping on Fixer Upper has been the highlight of my summer, seeing ideas we collaborate on come to life in real time is just *chefs kiss*

I gotta pack my bags now before I go but just thought I’d drop in here, pet the cats for me and hang in there, the weather will cool down soon enough!

-K.A.

How Kurapika shows his love:

Acts of service

Kurapika hasn’t always been there for you when you really needed him, meaning now that he is, he would do next to anything for you. He’ll run to the store to grab your favorite snacks when you aren’t feeling well, gently massages all your sore spots, accompanies you on shopping trips.

He wants to do things for you, even if it’s as simple as opening a jar of pickles, he feels so in love when he’s able to do little things that are of service to you.

Gift Giving

Kurapika is a gift giver, through and through. He has trouble holding himself back from buying every little thing that reminds him of you. That keychain with your favorite character on it, those shoes that would go nice with your favorite dress, and flowers of all kinds.

He also enjoys making you gifts, mostly consisting of clothing. He’s really good at sewing, and you taught him to knit, so he’s always making you new dresses that fit you perfectly. He’s weak for a good sundress, and when you’re wearing something he made you it’s hard for him to keep his hands to himself.

Words of Affirmation

Kurapika wants you to know how much he adores you, so compliments and little words of adoration are commonplace in your shared home.

It’s like he can’t go one second without telling you how amazing you are, and how in love with you he is. You’re his angel, his princess, the love of his life. He’ll plant kisses on your neck as he coos about how beautiful you are.

What he wants from his partner:

Physical Touch

As I’ve said before, Kurapika is TOUCH STARVED!! Before you, he hadn’t been held by another person since he was a child, so once he gets a taste of your touch he craves it.

His favorite thing is to lay his head in your lap, face buried in your tummy as you run your fingers through his hair. Kurapika could stay like this forever if you let him.

When he gets you pregnant, all he wants is to nuzzle against your baby bump, leaving kisses against your skin. He loves you so much!

He also enjoys just being held in your arms, with you rubbing soothing circles into his back. Kurapika can be a bit of a clinger once he gets comfortable around you, so he prepared!

Quality Time

Once Kurapika comes around to his feelings for you, all he wants is to spend more and more time with you. He needs you to hold him, to want to do fun things with HIM!

His favorite thing is when you have him sit at the kitchen table while you bake, feeding him bits of frosting or jam. He also likes cuddling up with you on the couch, watching some random movie. He enjoys accompanying anywhere you wish to go, as long as he gets to spend time with you he’s happy!

Words of Affirmation

It may not seem like it, but Kurapika is actually pretty insecure about his body. He struggles with believing you’re attracted to him, even if you’re always heating up when he’s around you.

Praise him, tell him how pretty and handsome he is. He needs to know you find him attractive. There are many other men in your life that he thinks look way better than him, so reassure him that he’s the only one for you. It makes him swoon!

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 11

This chapter seems to have picked up immediately where the last one ended. Laios hasn't even finished his bread with jam.

Now that I think about it, this story tries to come up with biological explanations for various types of monsters but it doesn't care to explain zombies and ghosts. Zombies are reanimated corpses while ghosts are spirits of the dead. And there's nothing more to them.

I guess zombies are created when a ghost inhabits a corpse.

This chapter demonstrates how Marcille does not fulfill the same role that Falin did. It's easy to forget since she hasn't used magic much, but Marcille is not a cleric. She knows some basic healing spells, but she uses attack magic. Marcille can blow up a ghost, but she can't actually deal with them in the same way a cleric is specially trained to.

Is this the first time Senshi's been told who Falin is? Chilchuck paused to tell Senshi about her.

I wanna say the incantation Falin made uses the same runes as the one Marcille used to cast magic. The font is different, but some of the characters look the same.

The chapter gives us our first proper glimpse at what Falin is like. It paints her as a very gentle and caring person. She also seems to get worn out easily. She was sweating after she exorcised the ghost.

I kind of feel that she's using her role as a cleric to offer compassion to the dead more than help to the living. She cast wards on the party so they wouldn't have to fight and hurt any ghosts and she apologized for exorcising the ghoul they found.

Since Laios has such an obsessive interest in monsters, I wouldn't be surprised if Falin has an equal obsession with ghosts and undead.

I didn't see the samurai guy in any panels in the flashback so I'm gonna guess he was a newer member of the party and that flashback wasn't during the trip that got Falin killed.

Halfway through Senshi's attempt to make Holy Water, I started to think he was actually trying to make soup. I think it was when he started adding sugar to it.

Love how the jar and rope are listed as ingredients to make the sorbet.

My question is how did this get the consistency of sorbet? It's made from water, jam (which was made from insect eggs and larvae), some alcohol, salt, and sugar. I would imagine it would have a consistency more like shaved ice.

Laios really rolled a 1 on the diplomacy check at the end. When Senshi was using the holy water to bludgeon the ghosts, Laios commented on how they were previously bemoaning how only Falin could handle fighting ghosts. I think Laios was kind of having his own version of that "easy vs convenient" conversation Marcille and Senshi had in chapter 8. Having Falin around made fighting ghosts easy. But when she was gone, no one knew how to handle the situation. So it would be better to think of a cleric as a convenient option while still knowing how to do things when there isn't one around.

And I think what Laios was trying to convey is them relying on her all the time made the party clueless about how to find other ways to handle situations she was capable of dealing with, and they wouldn't have discovered how to make that sorbet if she was around and just having her deal with the ghosts.

back

[twst-drabbles]

Since we just had the piece about naughty naga Jamil stealing the surprise fuzzy. I was wondering do the house pets have favourite foods?

Alright, time to ramble about cute shenanigans!

The funny ones I can think of are that Lilia likes having his tomato juice frozen into a popsicle. Well he likes tomato juice in any form but when it's a popsicle, he pounces on it and licks it like crazy, like it'll evaporate into air if he doesn't. Because of that, he got his tongue stuck on it a number of times.

One time Riddle got himself stuck in a strawberry jam jar one time but was so lost in the sauce that he didn't make a peep until he passed out with a belly full of jam. Caretaker found him with his feet sticking out of the jar, snoring the day away. Ace never lets him live it down. Cater likes to play a game of stacking himself on his clones like a ladder as he slurps up the longest noodle the Caretaker can find. Ace like to pretend that his cherry concentrate is the finest wine with his tiny doll size cups.

Leona's favorite food is literally anything the Caretaker is having at the moment until the moment he gets it. He'll eat anything meaty but anything they have he's staring and glaring like his food was stolen, but then he'll turn up his nose when he actually gets it. Ruggie likes to wear a donut around his neck like those cones of shame and just bite into them like that. No need to worry if he trips and falls backwards, his tail is wagging like no tomorrow and he's munching. And sweet sweet Jack can and will share his pear compote with the Caretaker no matter the time of day or night when the craving hits. He tried to eat it alone in secret, but it just wasn't the same. So yeah, 3 am eating where it sounds like Jack is eating from a bowl of mac and cheese.

That's all the funny ones off the top of head. Can probably come up with more but that's about all the brain spat out.

[lazybutsmexy]

Rotten Apple

Ghost x fem!Reader (Canary) x Soap

A/N: This is set after the events in Bird Hunting, but is mostly centered around Canary (here [Name] due to her being in a civilian setting) and her parents. Just a lil' bit of lore for BH fans :)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, referenced past child neglect, narcissistic/abusive parents.

Summary: Sweetened apples turn sour when rotten apples are around.

Word count: 2100~

“...Yae think we should’ve brought a leash?” Johnny pondered, and Simon had no choice but to consider his opinion for the next time they went to the farmers’ market with [Name]. Only ten minutes had passed from the moment they arrived, and it only took her catching a whiff of sweetened apples for her to zoom away into the crowd. 

And it was crowded today, with a congregation of people, alone, in couples, or entire families that had decided to brave the unusually sunny weather to stock up on organically harvested seasonal fruits and vegetables, animal products, and other produce made by the same people that sold them in cute little stands. 

[Name] absolutely loved the farmers’ market - Simon wasn’t that keen on crowds, but both him and Johnny were easily swayed by her excitement. The initial plan was for them to stock up on groceries before spending a long-awaited long weekend at Johnny’s cabin in the north. But now she had disappeared to who-knows-where. 

Her stealth had been an important skill during missions, but now it was a problem. Is this how their enemies felt, knowing that she was around there but being unable to find her?, Simon thought, his eyes scanning the crowd from above - luckily, there weren't many people even close to his size. 

“There!” Johnny exclaimed, and took off in a random direction. Simon was hot behind his heels, refusing to lose another one of his partners today. Both men had to struggle to part the crows around them without shoving them aside, and not tripping into distracted kids that wandered around their parents. 

Finally, Simon saw her, but there was something off about her. He couldn’t quite place it before Johnny got to her, his hand brushing her arm. 

“[Na-]! Oh, sorry,” Johnny quickly retracted his hand with a sheepish grin, “I thought you were my girlfriend, you look a lot like her.”

The girl eyed him up and down and quirked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, “That’s the most awful pick-up line I’ve heard,” she sneered at him, and Johnny couldn’t help but notice that she really looked eerily similar to [Name], from the color of her hair, the shape of her lips, to the scrunch on her nose when she looked at him in displeasure. “And by the way,” she continued dismissively, crossing her arms over her chest, “I already have a fiance, and you can’t afford me anyway.”

Both Simon and Johnny blinked at the woman, who was looking at both of them up and down. Johnny was getting rightfully annoyed at her choice of tone, and was about to turn around when she saw the woman’s face shift into surprise as her eye caught something behind them. “...[Name]?”

[Name] had been about to grab Simon’s shoulder, excited to show him her newly purchased jars of jams while munching away at a caramel apple, but the moment she noticed who was speaking to them, she turned around and shifted through the crowds again. 

Her heart was pounding in her ears and she felt her lungs constrict against her ribs for oxygen. The soles of her feet stung - although her burns were healed, the new skin was still sensitive. She had lost her treat somewhere, but she paid it no mind, eager to find the exit, and wait for Johnny and Simon by the truck. 

However, and she should already know this by heart, Lady luck sometimes is a bitch. 

“...[Name]? Is that you?” The voice made her freeze on the spot, right outside the parking lot, and she felt like a child all over again as she slowly turned around, her eyes meeting her mother’s. 

“...Hi, mom,” she sighed dejectedly, resigning herself to her fate as she saw her father turn around to face her, regarding her with an unimpressed stare, “Hi, dad.”

“Haven’t seen you in years, darling,” the woman spoke sweetly and smiled politely, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It never does when it’s for me, [Name] thought bitterly. It was no different than when she spoke to a stranger at the grocery store, definitely not how one would speak to a daughter. 

“Have you finally come to your senses?” her father was less subtle, crossing his arms over his chest, “Are you finally coming back home?”

“Ah, no, I’m actually on medical leave,” she cleared her throat and straightened her back, finally remembering she was not a teenager anymore, “I have my own place, had it for a while now, actually.”

“Really now?” her mother cooed, “When are you going to get the rest of your stuff from home, then?”

[Name] blinked at her, tilting her head a little in confusion, “you told me you were getting rid of my things years ago, you said you were going to use my bedroom for an office for Trish or something.”

“Oh, we did repurpose your old bedroom, silly girl,” the woman laughed, then shrugged condescendingly, “what we couldn’t give away is in a couple of small boxes in the attic, mostly your childhood photos.” [Name] said nothing - she had already expected her parents to get rid of all traces of her the moment she joined the military, she was only mildly puzzled about them keeping anything. “I'm sure you’ll want those, at least.”

“...You don’t want them?” she asked, although she already had an inkling of what the answer would be. 

“Well, it would be embarrassing to have people asking about you, you know?” her mother sighed, shaking her head, “What would we tell them? It was easier to pretend your sister was an only child.”

“You could tell them the truth,” [Name] retorted, and her father seemed to tense up at her answer.

“Tell people that we have a daughter who whores herself out for a living?” He grumbled, while her mother looked around to see if anyone heard, “what do they call them, barrack bunnies?” 

[Name] bit her lip, her mind unhelpfully replaying the disastrous argument that resulted from her enlisting years prior. “I thought you didn’t care if I died, anyway.”

“But you’re alive, and you owe us,” her mother chastised, her pitch dropping a few tones, “we raised you-”

“Grandma and Grandpa raised me, you were too busy raising Trish.”

“We kept you fed and clothed even though you always rebelled against us,” her mother hissed, stepping closer, “you turned our family against us!” 

“You did that yourself,” [Name] kept her voice down, calm, knowing from experience that getting herself fired up would only give them more power, “you’re the one who started pretending I didn’t exist when I turned ten, saying you wished Trish was your only daughter.”

Her mother huffed and turned her face away indignantly, “and I stand by that.” 

“...I know, you find it easier to pretend I don’t exist than to check whether I’m alive or not.”

“We should’ve left you at the hospital when we had the chance.” 

[Name] rolled her eyes at that. After so many years living away from her parents, the usual quips and threats from her mother hurt less than when she was a teenager. It was a small comfort, to know that she’d grown out of her parents' shadow. “Yeah, that wasn’t very smart of you-” she was stopped by a sound slap, her face turning from the impact. She slowly raised her hand to cup her stinging cheek, and eyed her father, whose hand was still raised.

“You will not speak to your mother in that manner, young lady,” he growled, and [Name] just blinked at him, unsure of how to react without getting herself arrested. 

“And you will not raise your hand against my corporal again, unless you’re ready to lose it,” Simon’s voice was low, dangerously low, and it sent shivers down both [Name]’s and her parents’ spines, although for entirely different reasons. She glanced over her shoulder, finding herself eye-level with Simon’s chest. Johnny stood by his side with a severe expression in his face, one she had seldom seen before. 

Her parents warily stepped back, taking in the two large men who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. “W-who are you?” Her father stammered - although he would later deny he did. 

“Lieutenant Riley, and this is your last warning,” he grumbled, although he didn’t need to do anything else to intimidate them. They already looked as if they were trying to find somewhere to hide. 

Knowing that her parents were - for once - the ones cowering in fear stirred a newfound sense of power in [Name]’s heart - what was it that Gaz called it? Ah, yeah, scary dog privilege. She found it easier to look at the people in front of them and realize that nothing had tied her to them for a long time. 

The branches of the genealogy tree can also be snipped to one’s content, her Grandma had told her on her twelfth birthday, when she couldn’t grasp the concept of her parents choosing to celebrate one kid’s birthday and not the other’s. 

She had found herself being dropped off at her Grandparents’ early in the morning, while her parents boasted about taking Trish to an amusement park for the day. Little [Name] was heartbroken, and had begged her mom to forgive her for whatever she had done to not deserve a birthday party. But alas, they were relentless, and a lot of screaming from her mom and a backhanded slap from her dad had broken her pleas and made her silent, just like many other times. 

At that time, [Name] couldn’t grasp the meaning of her Grandma’s words, but now that she had grown up, and disappointment had settled in a long time ago, those words rang truer than ever in her mind. 

Even when she was on the brink of death in the forest, seeing them again never crossed her mind, for she knew they wouldn’t care even to visit her grave. 

Keep up with that attitude, and you will die alone, because no one will ever love you, her mother had told her at thirteen, when she started openly questioning the difference in treatment with her twin. 

How wrong she was, she thought. She was far from alone, and she was very well loved. Although her Grandparents were long gone, she had Simon and Johnny right here with her, and Gaz was her chosen brother, and Price was a better father figure than the man in front of her had ever been.

“Burn those photos, for all I care,” she smiled at her mother. It was a calm, detached smile - a polite smile you give to a stranger at the grocery store, not to a parent. “Make it real, that I do not exist for you.” 

And with that she turned around, tugging on Simon's long sleeve as discreetly as she could. Johnny did notice, however, and smirked to himself as he followed after them - Simon would’ve gladly squared up to those two for hours if needed, but he easily relented to her touch. 

Simon opened the truck’s passenger door for [Name] and she sat in silence, still mulling over her thoughts. A warm hand rested on her knee and she looked up to see her favorite pair of blue eyes staring back at her. They looked at each other in silence - there was an unsaid question in his lips, but she could almost taste it. 

“...Let’s go home, okay?” She whispered, her hand stroking his knuckles. He simply nodded and shut the door before climbing in himself. Johnny was already sitting behind her, his lips pressed in a pout as he caught her reflection on the side view mirror, staring out of the window at the pair of strangers that once held her heart in their hands.

After a few silent moments as they pulled out of the parking lot, Johnny reached over, presenting [Name] with a fresh candy apple with sprinkles on top. She took it from his fingers, chuckling to herself at how easy it was for them to draw a smile from here, even though her heart still stung a little.

"Thanks, love," she hummed, pressing a kiss to his wrist and knowing that Johnny was grinning proudly to himself. Simon's hand was warm on her thigh, a welcome weight that grounded her in the present.

She could grow her own tree, if she so wanted, with the people she loved the most.

A/N: poor bby Canary deserved better parents :(

[object-headed-characters-yes]

Day 4- Spiral, Day 5- Thinking, Day 6- Glitch (writing snippets):

Spiral: (literal self-loathing, rescue, hugs)

RGB got trapped in an unseen quicksand that, while slowly pulling him down, sent him into self-loathing, which paralyzed him in place and prevented him from trying to escape.

Before RGB became too trapped within the sand or the self-loathing (that was only getting worse), Hero used the cane to fish RGB out. It was tricky, but Hero was able to drag RGB along the sand to a patch of highly convenient grass to hastily smack the horseshoes back in place that had somehow come off.

RGB was able to continue on due to this but he was in a daze of sorts, eerily quiet for someone who talked so often.

The silence stretched on.

The self-loathing from within lingered for quite a while.

When the two sides if them stopped for the night, Hero went over to RGB once he���d slumped down to rest.

A hug isn’t unwelcome, per se, but RGB was unable to return it or even really notice the aforementioned embrace. Eventually, RGB’s television screen switched the amount of certain colors that dripped down. Then, he eventually sagged into the hug from Hero, RGB’s shoulders slumped and antenna drooping backward as a crackly sigh emitted.

Thinking: (fluff and humor)

Hero has some thoughts that came to her while walking along. This thinking gave RGB the equivalent of a headache when the thoughts Hero was having formed into plot bunnies that were either attempting to hide in his suit coat or eat it; whichever the menaces decides to do first, and there seemed to be neither rhyme nor reason to it.

Hero played with the bunnies as more gathered around her, at least until RGB is forced to scoop Hero up. After tucking her under his arm, RGB made a run for it as the plot bunnies begin to multiply, faster and faster, as some of the plot bunnies began to show signs of becoming an idea.

Dangerous.

Hero must have vaguely remembered what happened with an idea the last time, because there was no protest from her to be set down.

Thankfully, the two new ideas that had formed began to eat the multiplying plot bunnies, the ideas growing bigger, only for the ideas (and the last few plot bunnies) to become transfixed by a puddle of water.

RGB kept on running; a problem for another day.

Glitch: (some action, negative shows up, interaction, humor)

RGB panicked as Fears chased after him and Hero, many more than was reasonably feasible to deal with.

Only to trip and fall, tumbling over and over, even as RGB held Hero within the protective cage of his arms, against his chest, despite all that panic until they came to the edge of a cliff.

And fell, after being rammed into by the Fears that had been in pursuit, the Fears flailing as they, too, fell down the cliff.

Seeing as Hero was already crying. She swiftly swiped a finger to the corner of her eye before slapping it hastily to r the television vent.

RGB let out an exasperated noise even as his arms held tight to Hero.

Silence, then static.

Negative.

Hero clung to Negative around the shoulder and beneath an arm in the event that he let go of her. To her surprise, Negative kept one arm wrapped around her back as his other hand snapped out to seize a Fear’s head, and snapped it off, lashing out at the other Fears attempted to fall toward them. Once done with that, Negative jammed the Fear’s fears head into the cliff wall, and slowed their descent, even if it was a little jarring. Silence, and with a firmer hold around Hero’s back, as Negative’s head tilted back.

Hero’s face pressed into his shoulder.

There was the sensation of gravity being displaced.

When Hero peeked to the side, she and Negative were suddenly back at the top of the cliff.

There were no other Fears about.

Safe, for now.

Hero trembled as Negative, cane in hand (had he used it to help them back up?) began to walk. Hero’s whole body shook too much to think to switch Negative back to RGB, so she just clung to him until he stopped walking. Gentler than Hero thought possible, based off previous times seeing him, Negative was careful as he pried her off his person to set her down, kneeling as he did so.

The two stared at one another.

Hero studied the eye on the monochrome screen, as Negative stared at her in return without much of a change in expression.

At least until he sat down and the eye flattened itself as if in displeasure.

Hero cracked up immediately upon seeing the reason why; he’d sat in a shallow paddle. What Hero didn’t see was the single eye on the screen softening a tad when the gaze went to her, before it curved beneath in mischief.

A splash of water at Hero, whose laughter grew louder.

Unfortunately, entertaining a child meant the child would have their revenge; Negative did not see the splash coming until it was too late to block it, but he did at least see the humor in it.

Hero’s laughter slipped into an alarmed gasp.

Once RGB’s body stopped glitching out, he spluttered aloud a proclamation, with a grandiose wave of his hand in the air. “Fiddlesticks! What in the-what did I say about water and electricity not mixing?! Do not do that again!”

Hero burst out laughing again when a lie scooted out from behind RGB not a moment later.