#hunter addresses the air

[initial-lime]

Never in a million years did i think tumblr would try to sell me I mean it’s just absurd, who sells And online too?? Unbelievable

[initial-lime]

I can’t fucking WAIt for snow!!!!!! Dude!!! My late night walks are absolutely FIRE when it’s snowing out!! 3am snowstorm walk is the time I was made to be alive in, pure bliss, fixes all my problems!!!

I love winter <3

I love snow <3

I don’t care that it’s cold I’m Scandinavian <3

Dark and cold and nice and oppressive air <3

Also!!!!!!!!! Also!!!!!!!! When it’s snowing like a WHOLE BUNCH at once and you put on all your warm clothes and then you go outside and lie on the ground and let the snow slowly bury you as you stare into the whirlwind of white frost!

I love letting the world slowly bury me, there is no one to disturb my silence as I am slowly engulfed by the earths blessings <3 a dream come true <3

Did I mention I really love when it snows?

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

everyone knows dr. zayne is cool as a cucumber, and it's a given for him that you're known as his wife, but when a fresh-faced new resident seemingly makes a move on you... what will he do?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, jealousy (a very jealous zayne, in fact), making out in his office, crack, fluff, hunter!reader, you and zayne have a daughter

note: inspired by that one kim min-kyu scene in business proposal :D this is actually an extension for nocturne of twilight and dawn's first light but can also be read as standalone

You hadn't seen your husband for two weeks.

There was a spring on your step when you entered Akso Hospital right after your long intercity mission. You had acquired some bruises and they weren't anything serious, so you figured you’d just have Greyson treat them. Besides, it gave you the perfect excuse to hand him some cookies as a souvenir.

And, of course, ask him to ring for Zayne to meet you once he had the time.

"Miss, do you need help?"

But a curious voice addressed you when you loitered around in the lobby, and you turned around to find a bright-faced young man with red hair and wearing doctor's coat.

"Ah, yes, I want to meet Dr. Zayne," you smiled. "Or Dr. Greyson will do."

The young doctor perked up at the names you mentioned. "Oh, are you a patient? Do you have an appointment already?"

"Hmm, no, actually I am—"

You halted mid-sentence before the words his wife slipped out, rethinking your choice. You knew of Zayne's infamous reputation in the hospital, and while almost everyone in his floor knew you, this new doctor didn't, and you thought it was best to leave it that way.

"Yeah, I already have an appointment," you nodded, plastering an thin smile. "Just tell Dr. Greyson that Y/N wants to meet him."

"Right, right, I'll page him now..." he mumbled, pulling out his pager and his phone. "I'll text him too..."

"Thank you."

"O-oh, Miss! Wait!" the young man called after you in a hurry when you turned around. "I've noticed it for a while, you have a cut on the side of your lips..."

"Ah, this..." Your fingers instinctively brushed the dried blood on your lips. You hadn’t thought the small cut was noticeable. "Yes, it’s from earlier—"

"Actually, I’m an ER resident!" he interrupted with a bright grin. "Let me treat you first!"

Caught off guard by his enthusiasm, you barely had time to react as he gently but firmly guided you towards the emergency room.

"Dr. Zayne! Dr. Zayne! Your wife is here~!"

Zayne had barely stepped into his office after a grueling surgery when Greyson barged in, all too casually, delivering the news with a grin. "She’s waiting in the lobby!"

He blinked, slightly taken aback. "Oh?"

You're back? He pulled out his muted phone, checking the notifications. Sure enough, you’d sent him a message an hour ago, letting him know you’d safely landed in Linkon.

His little, snarky wife. For the past two weeks you had been away, the house had felt lonelier. Sure, his daughter—who resembled you in personality, no less—was a bundle of sunshine and adorable beyond words, but without you, there was always that subtle void in the air.

Or maybe it wasn’t the house at all? Maybe it was just him—utterly, hopelessly whipped.

"Why isn’t she coming up to my office?" he asked suddenly, noticing the odd detail.

"Hmm, yeah, and it’s weird... why did the new resident say she’s asking for me?" Greyson mused, turning toward Zayne. "Don’t you want to meet her instead? Whatever she needs me for, I’m sure you could handle it."

Zayne promptly left his office and took long strides toward the elevator. As the doors started to close, he even half-sprinted, calling out to the person inside to hold it for him.

Okay, maybe he was a little too eager, but was it really so wrong to be this excited to see his wife again when the two of you had been apart for two weeks?

...then again, you didn't need to know. You would roast him to bits should you know he missed you this much.

Zayne got off at the lobby, expecting to find you there— only to find the usual flow of hospital staff and visitors. He was about to call you when he wandered past the emergency room and turned the corner—and that’s when he got his shock of the day.

There you were. But not alone.

With a guy.

Whose hand is touching your lips.

"It must be tough being a hunter, huh?"

The red-haired resident carefully tended to your bruised arm, wrapping it in a fresh bandage as you sighed, thinking back to the mission. "Yeah, there are definitely some hard days..."

"But despite all that, you still keep yourself in shape!" he remarked, eyeing your toned arms with a hint of admiration.

You let out a sheepish laugh, remembering those pull-ups sessions with Zayne. "Haha, that's because my husband makes sure I'm getting enough exercise..."

"You're married?!" His voice was filled with disbelief, and it caught you off guard, yet he grinned afterwards. "Wow! Is he a hunter too?"

You would've never guessed, boy. This resident doctor was cute, you thought, ever so curious at everything. You could only imagine the look on his face if you told him that the Dr. Zayne was your husband.

You were about to refute it when his fingers brushed against your lips. "Oh, sorry, let me apply some ointment here first..."

His touch felt cool to your lips and you were momentarily stunned at the contact— but then a gruff cough startled you so much you almost jumped.

The towering figure of your husband behind him. Zayne's dark gaze was fixed on the man in front of you, like he could murder the poor guy with just a look.

"Z-Zayne...?" you squeaked against the ointment on your lips, and the resident quickly turned behind him in surprise, hastily greeting him, "Oh, Dr. Zayne!"

Zayne shot the poor man a single, pointed look before his gaze shifted to you, clearly unamused.

He suddenly grabbed your hand and, without sparing the resident another glance, swiftly pulled you away. The other guy was left standing there, speechless, as Zayne led you off, leaving him in the dust.

. . .

"Zayne!"

Oh, how he actually missed his name coming out from your lips.

"Are you done with your schedule?" you asked as he pulled you into the elevator, confusion evident in the way you tilted your head. But when he didn’t answer, you glanced down at his firm grip on your arm, suddenly realizing something. "Wait, no... are you angry?"

Sigh. It irked him so much, actually. Because, how could you, after weeks—

No, he actually knew he was being irrational. He shouldn’t overreact like this just because someone else touched you. But why is he so annoyed, still?

"Wait, why?" you kept asking, wide-eyed, as the two of you stepped out and made way towards his office. "I'm not injured! I'm fine! It's just some bruises—"

Without a word, Zayne pulled you into his office, swiftly locking the door behind him. Before you could say another word, he cornered you against the wall, and you fell silent instantly.

It had been a while since he’d seen you this way—stunned, caught off guard, and utterly silent under his gaze. He studied your face closely, watching the way your breath hitched as the tension between you both thickened.

It sparked something inside him seeing you like this, a sense of satisfaction that he couldn’t quite explain, but one he welcomed nonetheless.

That was when he saw the blood on your lips. "Did you get punched in the face?"

"Y-Yes, but— it's nothing severe!" you defended, trying to convince him. "It's such a small cut anyway!"

He frowned. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"What? Hey, I was about to ask Greyson, but—"

That got him frown even deeper, even irate. "Why Greyson? When you come home with any injuries, you come to me, not anyone else."

You let out a resigned sigh, slumping your shoulders in defeat. "Because I know you'll fuss over me, duh."

"I don't fuss," he retorted.

"You do," you shot back, pursing your lips. "You try to act like this cool, calm robot all the time, but you always drone on and on whenever you patch me up. You're worried, it shows."

Zayne huffed, shifting his gaze away from you as he felt his face burn. Was he that obvious? How could he not, though, when you managed to get hurt so often and yet acted so innocent about it?

Then as if inspired, you caught on immediately. Your eyes sparkled, and a mischievous smirk tugged at your lips. "Wait, just now... don't tell me... Are you jealous?"

Damn.

"Heh, Dr. Zayne, really?" Your voice was playful now, mocking him. "Whoa, how can this be?"

How had you figured him out so easily?

You continued in a sing-song voice, putting both hands on your chest, "Ah, my heart flutters! My husband is apparently—"

Enough. This time, his patience snapped.

He didn’t hesitate even for a moment. A low growl escaped him, and in one swift motion, he crashed his lips against yours, silencing you with the most effective method he could think of.

"Mmph!" You gasped in surprise, the teasing words at the end of your tongue completely forgotten. His gray eyes gleamed. Been too long, he thought, and now he was making sure you knew just how badly he craved this.

The kiss was searing as he deepened it, his tongue seeking yours with urgency. "Hngh!" You let out a feeble whine when he teased you by biting your lips.

Zayne held back a snort. One of his hand then strayed inside your hunter uniform, unclasping your bra with a flick.

"—?!" Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening, and before you could process it, he pulled away. But you were far from right in thinking it was over. The dangerous gleam in his eyes kept you tense as he swiftly removed his glasses...

...before he pulled you back towards him and claimed your lips once again.

With a swift, commanding motion, he guided you toward his desk. His papers scattered at the sudden movement, but he had you bent over it regardless, forcing your body to arch. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, while his right hand fondled your breasts, repeatedly squeezing, palming and switching between them.

"Mmm...!" You let out a strangled moan, instinctively holding onto his shoulder, feeling the way how he groped you ignited your core. "Ahh..."

Your body was tantalizing as always. Hardened and sometimes bruised from your work it may be, but to Zayne, you were still beautiful as ever.

When you gasped for air, he decided he was done with your swollen lips. His lips then trailed down to your neck, sucking hard on it, creating a squelching sound that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"W-what's... gotten into you...?" you breathed out, tangling your fingers in his hair, hyperaware of his hands still roaming over your nipples.

In response, he nibbled at your skin and flicked your breasts at the same time, causing you to freeze and draw a sharp, hitched breath. "Haah...!"

Unbeknownst to you, his lips curled wickedly at your reaction, and he continued to pepper your neck with series of wet sucks as if to mark you altogether. You writhed under him, whiny and sighing, relishing his hot breath on your skin.

You were utterly at his mercy, pliant and helpless in his hands. There was a deep satisfaction in knowing he was the only one who could bring you, his lawfully wedded wife, to this state—

Still, he wouldn’t allow you to be indecent in a place like this. When he finally pulled back, he was breathing heavily, eyes dark with lust, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of your jaw. "Don’t tempt me," he muttered, voice low and raspy.

You gazed up at him, your heart pounding. "Zayne..." you whispered, a whine broke through the heat on your flushed face.

His expression softened just enough, a flicker of tenderness cutting through the intensity. Pretty. That’s what you were, undeniably so. How he had missed out on you so long once was his greatest regret.

Carefully, he helped you sit upright, his touch gentle as he clasped your bra and began buttoning up your uniform, disheveled from his earlier ministrations.

The gentle way he touched you was a stark contrast to how it was earlier. "Is that a new way to treat busted lip?" you nudged his collar, feeling a little braver now.

"For bad wives, yeah."

"I'm not a bad wife! Just disobedient on some occasion."

Zayne's fingers brushed your face as he finished with your uniform, his dark-gray eyes steady on you. You pouted.

"You're the one who's bad," you accused with slight resentment, not missing a beat as the heat between your legs started to dissipate. "Leaving me unfinished like that."

"Hmm? Am I?" he murmured, the faintest amusement in his tone.

"You have to take responsibility tonight, you big meanie," you mumbled, your pout deepening as you avoided meeting his gaze.

Zayne snorted at the sight of you—so precious in his eyes, his thumb lightly grazing the corner of your lips in a gesture so tender it made your heart skip, before whispering in your ear:

"Well, if your voice won't wake our daughter, that is."

Epilogue

Not long after, just as you had gathered yourself and were preparing to leave the hospital to head home, a sudden knock at the door of his office startled you both.

Quickly, you moved to sit on the patient’s seat, feigning nonchalance as you braced yourself for whoever was on the other side. Zayne reached for the door, but before he could unlock it, a familiar voice called out.

"Excuse me!" the resident's voice sounded a bit hesitant but firm. "Dr. Zayne, the miss left her handbag earlier!"

Zayne let out a low, irked sigh. You glanced at him curiously, watching as he opened the door and came face-to-face with the redheaded resident.

Without a word, he extended his hand, and the resident blinked before handing over the bag.

"I-is the miss still here?" the young doctor asked, almost intimidated by his unfriendly gaze.

"Ma'am," Zayne corrected, his voice flat.

"Huh?"

"Call her ma'am. She's someone's wife."

"O-oh, and her husband is—"

"Me. I am her husband."

Your eyes widened in surprise at the matter-of-fact exchange, heat rising to your cheeks as Zayne’s words hung confidently in the air. He curtly thanked the poor resident before slamming the door shut in his face.

Your jaw practically hit the floor. "Zayne!" you gasped, staring at him as he turned back towards you, entirely unbothered.

Your husband was as cold as the snowman he often made, but somehow the way he boldly declared he was your husband was just so him that it made you so giddy.

You tilted your head, crossing your arms with a playful smile. "You’re really jealous, huh? How?"

He didn’t answer, his gaze still fixed elsewhere, most definitely trying to save his dignity.

You chuckled softly, stepping closer to him with a teasing sway. Your fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, turning him to face you, and you winked at him mischievously.

"Well, I’m all yours. But if it makes you feel better, maybe I’ll stay away from any ER residents for a while~"

[nahoney22]

Me again! Please can I request some HC’s with the bad batch and how they react to reader (gn or female) accidentally crawling into the boys bunk at night 😂

Accidental Sleeping Arrangements

All Bad Batch Boys X GN!Reader

How the boys react to you accidentally crawling into their bunk at night.

warnings: Fluff, comfort, cuddles, some moody boys, gender neutral reader. Can be read as romantic or platonic.

Echo 💤

The first time:

As you slid into his bunk accidentally that evening, he was thoroughly bewildered. He had jolted awake and sat upright, observing your exhausted form snuggling against him, eyelids heavy with fatigue.

With tactful gentleness, he roused you from your slumber, delicately shaking you to bring you back to awareness. "Hey, um, you're in my bunk, trooper."

Your eyes flickered open, adjusting to the dim light, and a muttered curse escaped your lips as you retreated, cheeks warming with embarrassment. "Sorry, Echo," you apologized, slipping out of his bunk. "I must be completely drained," you sheepishly confessed.

"It's alright. I just didn't want to startle you by waking up to my face," he commented. You glance at him with a furrow forming on your brow before you shook your head.

"I doubt I'd be bothered by that..." your words trailed off, potentially carrying unintended flirtation. Echo's eyes widened slightly, his hand instinctively moving to the back of his neck, a clear sign of slight shyness at your words.

"Anyway," you say abruptly, spinning on your heel. "Sorry about that."

Echo simply nodded, silently observing as you retreated to your own bunk, leaving him with a sudden chill in the air, now yearning for the warmth you briefly brought beside him.

The second time:

With a tired yawn, Echo wearily approaches his bunk a few nights later, only to halt in surprise at the sight of someone curled up inside. Upon closer inspection, he realises it's you again, presenting him with a slight dilemma.

Despite his weariness, Echo knows he needs rest, and while your bunk is an option, his own provides the perfect setup for his cybernetics, ensuring he's at his best for the next day's duties.

Letting out a small sigh, hoping you wouldn't mind, he settles on the edge of his bunk and gently wakes you. "Hey, you're in my bunk again," he murmurs softly.

You stir, meeting his gaze before cringing slightly. "Again? I'm so sorry," you begin to rise, but his hand on your shoulder stops you.

"You can stay, but I'd also like to get some sleep... if you, uh, catch my meaning," he hints with a faint smile, hoping you understand.

"Oh," you blush, considering for a moment. "Well, I hope you don't mind sharing."

"Not at all," he reassures, his tone gentle as you make space. He lies beside you, and before long, you drift back to sleep. Echo finds solace in the rhythm of your soft snores, gradually succumbing to sleep himself... though waking up to find you both cuddling is a surprise he hadn't anticipated, yet one he welcomes warmly.

Hunter 💤

The first time:

When Hunter awoke to find you crawling into his bunk, confusion gripped him. Instantly alert, his hands tensed, ready to confront any potential intruder, but his apprehension melted away as he recognised you.

He lay there in silence, contemplating his next move.

While a part of him felt inclined to let you sleep, considering your recent exhaustion, he couldn't shake the concern of startling you upon awakening to find him beside you.

After ensuring you were deeply asleep, he carefully extricated himself from the occupied bunk, making sure not to disturb you.

Once free, he couldn't suppress a soft chuckle as he observed you, peacefully snuggled into his pillow, emitting gentle snores. “Sleep well.” He whispered to you before leaving you to rest.

He made a mental note to address the situation in the morning, but perhaps it’s better left unsaid since you’ll know your error when you woke up.

The second time:

As you woke up to find yourself in Hunter's bunk, mortification swept over you. Yet, when you encountered Hunter in the cockpit, he didn't mention a word about it, instead offering you a drink of caf.

A small part of you entertained the idea that perhaps he was unaware of the nighttime intrusion. However, your suspicions were confirmed a few nights later.

Fatigued and not paying attention to your surroundings, you headed towards what you thought was your bunk and climbed inside, only to be surprised by the presence of another person. "Hunter, what're you doing?" you blurt out, eyes widening in disbelief.

"I could ask you the same question," he chuckles, adjusting his position and turning to face you. "This is my bunk."

Blinking in realisation, you glance around, confirming his assertion. "Oh," you laugh sheepishly, "I thought this was mine."

His smile is gentle, his eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light. "You're more than welcome to stay," he offers casually, though he soon realizes the potential implications of his words. "If you want to, that is."

A part of you knows you should return to your own bunk, yet there's an inexplicable pull keeping you there. "Well, I'm all comfy now..." you hint with a small smile.

He nods, turning his gaze away and closing his eyes. "Me too. Sleep well."

It took you a moment to fall asleep but just like how Hunter didn’t tell you that you had slept in his bunk first initially, you won’t tell him how he pulls you into his body as he slept and held you close throughout the night. Not that you seemed to mind.

Wrecker 💤

The first time:

"Wrecker, you scared me! What are you doing in my bunk?" you exclaimed, startled by the unexpected intrusion.

As you thought you were settling into your bunk for the night, using your hands to navigate through the darkness, you accidentally crawled onto something large and hard.

Assuming it was just your sheets bunched up, you attempted to smooth it out, only to be met with a small yelp that made your heart skip a beat.

"Huh?" Wrecker groggily emerged from his sleep cocoon, rubbing his eyes. "This is my bunk, isn't it?"

"No, I'm pretty sure it's mine," you asserted, but as Wrecker shifted in the bunk and reached under the blanket, he pulled out his beloved Lula.

"Oh. Maybe not then." You felt pretty embarrassed by your mistake, but Wrecker didn't seem to mind at all.

"It's alright, thought I was going to get an extra cuddle buddy for a second there!" he chuckled heartily, waving Lula in your face. His laughter filled the room, and you couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through you at the thought of being Wrecker's "cuddle buddy," though you weren't entirely sure if he was joking.

Deciding not to dwell on it further and eager to avoid keeping Wrecker awake any longer, you offered a meek apology before retreating to your actual bunk. As you settled in, you couldn't shake the image of Wrecker's playful grin from your mind.

The second time:

Wrecker stared down at his bunk, finding it already occupied with not much room left for him. You were snoozing away, oblivious to his dilemma. Wrecker knew he could be a bit of a grouch without his sleep, so he decided to gently prod you awake.

"Hey," he nudged you, rousing you from your slumber. "Is this you asking to be my cuddle buddy?"

You stirred awake, blinking in confusion as you glanced at him. It was then that you noticed Lula on the pillow next to your head. "Oh shoot, sorry Wrecker," you sighed groggily, just wanting to fall back asleep into the warmth of his bunk.

"It's alrigh’," he chuckled softly, his deep voice filling the room with warmth. "But uh... I kinda need to sleep."

"Then come cuddle next to me," the words slipped out before you realized what you were saying, but you didn't want to take them back either. The thought of Wrecker's warmth beside you was oddly comforting.

Wrecker was surprised for a moment, his eyes widening slightly, before a soft smile spread across his face. Without hesitation, he slung his armor off and crawled into the space beside you. "Are ya sure about this?"

"Mhm," you replied sleepily, your arms spreading over his chest as you nestled into him like a log warming a fire. "You're warm."

Wrecker smiled to himself, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him as he closed his eyes, feeling your steady breathing against his chest.

Tech 💤

The first time:

Sleep was not a common occurrence for Tech, so when he made the rare decision to nestle down for the night, he wasn't too perturbed to find you asleep in his allocated spot.

He paused for a moment, considering whether to wake you, but recalling your exhausted state earlier, he reasoned that you wouldn't have intentionally taken his bunk.

Instead, he quietly observed the peaceful rise and fall of your chest, noting the serenity that graced your features, before silently retreating back to the cockpit where he remained awake for the night once again.

"Tech, why didn't you wake me? I feel terrible," you expressed your guilt that next morning upon discovering that you had accidentally slept in his bunk, leaving him to forego his own rest.

"That is not necessary. You were tired, and I can always keep my mind occupied with tasks or reading intel," he replied in his usual composed manner, peering at you over his datapad. "I shall assume this was a one-time occurrence, and my bunk shall be my own again tonight."

“Yes, of course," you nodded, your expression reflecting genuine concern as you offered another apology before preparing for the demanding day ahead. Despite Tech's assurances, the weight of your unintended intrusion lingered.

The second time:

It just so happened to be the next night that you found yourself once again interrupting Tech's sleep. Moving through the dark ship with heavy eyes and a yawn on your lips, it was no surprise that you once again miscounted where your bunk was and crawled into the wrong one.

Your head hit the pillow, and your eyes shut as the warmth of the bed enveloped you. However, despite the comfort, a small flickering light kept intruding upon your consciousness, prompting your eyes to flutter open. At first, you didn't register the source, but as you turned your head to the right, your eyes widened in realisation: Tech laying there on his datapad, as if nothing had happened.

"Tech, what... am I...?" you began, your voice trailing off as confusion clouded your thoughts.

"In the wrong bunk?" he interjected calmly, settling his datapad down and gazing down at you. His goggles rested atop his head, allowing you to see the brightness of his eyes in the dark. "That is correct."

You sit up, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood over you, and run your hand over your face in frustration. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's up with me.”

Tech raises a single brow, his expression softened with genuine concern. "Perhaps in the morning, I should run some tests if you will allow me?" he suggests softly, his voice carrying a hint of worry. "But for now, I suggest you get some sleep."

Nodding in agreement, you reluctantly pull the blanket off your body, preparing to retreat to your own bunk. However, before you can make your escape, Tech's hand gently rests on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

"You are free to continue sleeping in my bunk tonight if you find it comfortable," he offers unexpectedly, his gesture of kindness catching you off guard.

"What, really?" you respond, turning to face him, searching his eyes for confirmation.

With a nod, Tech reclines back and retrieves his datapad. "Yes, really. I do not mind."

"But what if I keep you awake again?" you voice your concern.

"Do not worry about me," he reassures softly, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Now, get some rest before I give you a lecture about the benefits of getting sleep."

You chuckle softly at his remark before settling, finding comfort in his understanding demeanor. As you prepare to drift off into slumber, you can't help but feel thankful for Tech's compassion and generosity.

In the quiet of the night, you woke up only once, feeling Tech's arm drape gently across your body. Yet, instead of feeling unsettled, you found comfort in his presence.

Crosshair 💤

The first time:

As you prepared to settle in for the night after a long day, exhaustion clouded your judgment, leading you to absentmindedly crawl into a bunk without much thought. However, your relaxation was short-lived as you were startled by a gravelly voice beside you.

"What are you doing?" The abrupt question made you jump, and you inadvertently knocked your head against the top of the bunk in surprise.

"What am I doing? What the kriff are you doing?" you retorted in annoyance, rubbing your sore head as Crosshair sat up beside you, his expression stern in the dim light.

"I'll think you'll find this is my bunk," he hissed, his sharp gaze piercing through the darkness. As you glanced across the room, you realised your mistake—the bunk you were in wasn't yours.

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh. Now get out before I drag you out," he threatened, though you could tell it was more playful than serious.

"Alright, alright, keep your hair on," you sighed as you obediently crawled out of his bunk, feeling the absence of warmth as you departed.

Crosshair grumbled under his breath and rolled back onto his side to sleep, while you mentally chided yourself for the blunder, making sure you never accidentally try to sleep in his bunk again.

The second time:

You're exhausted, your head throbbing with the relentless ache of sleep deprivation from the past few days, and you've reached the point where you don't care where you sleep anymore. And that includes Crosshair's bunk.

As you settle down on the edge of his bunk, the closest one available, you feel the weight of his gaze on your back, following your movements as you swing your legs around and lay down. "What are you doing?" his voice cuts through the silence, tinged with irritation.

You don't reply, simply closing your eyes as you allow the fatigue to wash over you, hoping for a moment's respite.

"This is my bunk," he asserts firmly, his agitation evident, but as you remain silent, his annoyance shifts to confusion.

"Are you... alright?" he inquires, concern creeping into his voice.

You shake your head softly, and you hear him sigh, but he doesn't press you further. Nor does he demand that you leave.

As sleep begins to claim you, Crosshair remains awake for a while, his thoughts swirling. In his mind, he tells himself that this is a one-time occurrence.

Yet, if you're upset and in need of somewhere to rest for a while, he doesn't mind if you sleep next to him again. After all, it turns out to be the best sleep he's had in a while too.

Masterlist

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417@eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex x @jesseeka @theroguesully y @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97@staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans s @nunanuggets s @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 7 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez @green-alm0nd @thiswitchloves9904

[initial-lime]

I have no fucking clue what’s going on, 2 of my mutuals listen, I know we’re upset about my blorbo in law being blond or something though

Also there’s a guy who keeps killing his siblings??????????

Idk, whoever the trawler man is I think I have beef with him, not sure why though because idk who they are. I don’t even go here

sometimes i wonder what it’s like to have tsv mutuals but not listen yourself. like once every three weeks you get ppl going OHHH MY GODDD SCHLORPO IS GONNA BLOW UP LOBSTER TOWN 😭😭😭

[dreamofjoys]

DAY 3 — Hate Sex

Characters: Blade (HSR), Al haitham (Genshin)

C/W: afab/fem reader, hate / rough sex, biting

Please read my main masterlist post before proceeding

Kinktober Masterlist

♡ Blade (HSR) ♡

You had never liked Blade, neither does he like you either. If someone told you that you and Blade will be making out together, you would laugh in their face and call them stupid. However, it seems like you are the stupid one in your current predicament. You were laying on your stomach on a table, legs spread open as your hater fucks his cock into you from behind. “I-I thought you ha-hated me,” You stuttered on your words each time Blade thrust himself into your womanhood. His balls slapping on your ass and cock nestling inside you has managed to provide a sense of high into your brain. Blade doesn’t respond to your question. Instead, the stellaron hunter chooses to lean down and bite on the back of your neck. You yelped in response, surprised at the sudden gesture. Blade only smirks when he feels your walls clenching down on his cock tight and hard. He resumes back to pounding his cock into your pussy, making sure to hit onto the most sensitive spots that got you crying before fully pulling out, letting your needy hole clench onto nothing but cold air, letting you feel how empty you are without. He repeats this cycle for the next few hours, not caring if it’s too much for you.

Blade hates you. He hates that you always make his cock hard and unattended. You have never spared him any attention, which got him desperate for you even more – even though he makes sure to make it seem like he purely hates you for no reason to avoid the embarrassment of being discovered that he was getting horny over you. Maybe only by fucking you this hard, you can feel his pain of his cock being lonely and needy all this time. But Blade wonders if you actually hate him, seeing as to how you are gripping onto the edges of the table with your life, wantons of moans spilling out from your lips as you let the person that you “hate” spilt you apart with his cock.

♡ Al Haitham (Genshin) ♡

There’s a purpose in everything that Al haitham does. Whether its to read a book, researching on difficult topics or eating a meal, this man has always been doing things that are within his own benefits and interest. Despite being classmates, you weren’t close to the aloof and arrogant scribe. In fact, you hated his “I know everything” attitude — although he is in fact correct about it. Perhaps you were simply jealous that his nonchalant approach towards studies have made him one of the top scholars in Academy (even though you were working hard and can only manage to barely pass your subjects). Nonetheless, you did not expect the man himself to approach you one day and ask “Wanna fuck?”

You were baffled by the suggestion. Why would he, ask you of all people? Nonetheless, there was this small voice inside you telling you to accept the invitation. Perhaps you were just eager to find out whether the esteemed and highly praised scribe is good in bed too? Damn right he is. Al haitham had you folded in half nicely, pinning your body to his bed as he fucks you with his cock. His movements were rough and ungentle. The bed creaks with every move that he made. The hands that were pinning your waist down starts digging into your skin, his nails no doubt leaving crescent nail marks on you. Everytime Al Haitham thrust himself in, you felt your brain going numb for a millisecond. You did not expect the scribe to be this good at fucking. Is this his first time doing this? Did he do some research before this? Why is it that the man that you hate is giving you the most pleasure right now?

Al Haitham could see the puzzled look on your face, but refuses to address your questions. He continues to fucks himself into you over and over again, letting that sloppy sounds bouncing off the walls show you just how good he is at making your pussy cry for his cock.

[initial-lime]

Boom!! My very own magtober prompt list!! I’m gonna do my best to complete this!! It’d be super cool if people tagged along even if just for individual prompts (:

If you follow along my list make sure to tag me!!!! I wanna see what creative stuff y’all get up to!! Any mediums welcome!!!

There’s at least prompt for each fear, plus a couple extra buried ones because. Well. It’s my me damn list

[initial-lime]

These QPR gay cats, double dog dare you mini

Hand over some of your SFW ocs and ill handle them with care and mspaint

I wanna do some shitty doodles and see if I can draw peoples characters at equal value, whether it be dragon, furry or humanoid (HUMANS INCLUDED I FORGOR). I am open to trying a mech but there is no promise there sadly, but ill still try.

[dood-itsradical]

Bounty

Pairing: Goo Kim x Gn!Reader

Summary: Bounty hunters are ok. Goo as bounty hunter? Not ok.

Genres: Action, comedy, can be viewed as platonic.

Details: 1.4k words, not proofread, martial artist!reader, reader is Malaysian bc I can, translations are placed at the end of the fic, cliffhanger ending.

A/n: Goo getting a proper oneshot by me?? Chat we winning! Reading Goo in Manager Kim HAD ME ON MY FUCKING KNEES and it sparks idea. This was originally supposed to be a drabble but it got long sooo, eat up! I don't do requests!

Masterlist

You don't know which idiot put a fucking bounty on you. First you hold grudge as you bound to find out who the culprit was. Eventually the people who hunt you down stole so much of your time, preventing you from doing so. It's not that they're any better than you are. They're just so many people willing to test their luck, that includes having a death wish.

"Boss, mee goreng satu!" You raised you hand to the local chef. He signaled back an 'OK' as you take a sit on the plastic chair. The homie atmosphere hits your nose with your eyes taking notes of your surroundings. When your food arrived you recited your bismillah before digging in.

The chair across from you were pulled suddenly, catching your attention when a man sat down. He fan the air with his hand, letting out a huffed and grin at you. "Damn, it's pretty hot is here huh? I have respect for you people. As soon as I land here I nearly pass out from the heat."

You paused mid chew, blinking at the blond dude. "Can I help you, sir?" You asked, your accent spoke with fluent English.

"Wait a moment." Goo shakes the fabric of his shirt, fanning himself from the inside. He then gesture your ice milo. "Can I?" You gestured back, letting him as he pull the glass to himself as drink from the straw. He takes big three gulps before exhaling. "Ah, that feels good. That's actually good. You guys have impressive products though."

"Where were we? Oh right." He pat his pants, before taking out his phone and show the screen to you. You stare before looking back at hik. Of course, he's your damn bounty. He's obviously not a local. But for a foreigner to came along this way for your ass? Now you're definitely have a big tone of beef with the culprit.

You chuckled, shaking your head. Picking your food as you said, "You got the wrong person. That's not me."

Goo's brows lit up, "Oh? That's not you?" He looked at his phone then back at you, double checking just to humour himself. "Really?"

You nod again, now it's his turn to chuckle. "Oh, I see, I see. I'm sorry. So you're really not (Full Name) from (birthplace), living in (address). (Age) years old, single, work part-time job. Parents named (dad's name) and (mom's name)."

You nearly choked at his full description of your background, you immediately swallowed your food and keep feigning a smile. "No, no."

"No?" He asked again in his own playful tone, "Ooh..." He nods before pulling your plate towards him. He leaned closer with a sneered. "Yah. Cut the bullshit already. You people are really know how to make jokes, I nearly pissed my pants."

As unfazed as you are, you decided to play along. "Where you from, sir?"

"South Korea." He spoke clearly, almost proudly. Your mouth shaped an 'O'.

"Wow, annyeonghaseyo! Welcome. Kamsahamnida for coming to our country."

The corner of his lips curled. He wasn't sure if you were mocking or that's really the basic knowledge around here. But he's the one that decide when play time is over.

The passing stray cat shrieks in surprise, followed by locals running away for their safety when the table was thrown effortlessly across the place by him.

You clicked your tongue, looking at where food landed. "Bro, that's a waste." Your gaze meet his piercing ones. "Can we not do this here? I wouldn't really appreciate it if some sialan started to show their gangster side here."

You raised you hand at the owner, managing to finish your sentence, "Sorry boss! I'll pay for the damage soon-" before a hard impact hit you square in the face, sending you back with an abnormal force. You groaned, pulling yourself back from someone's car. Inspecting the damaged on it as you then shake your head. "Of course it's a Myvi." You muttered, now facing front to your opponent.

His strength is definitely new to you. Mind you, you aren't much of a traveller. In this economy it's almost too hard to earn just enough money for that. But the fact envy you. Why must good fighters are always not from your country?

Brushing your side, you roll your shoulder. "Oi, oppa. Go easy on me lah! I don't have enough money to pay for the surgery. Even funeral cost you big dough, you know? My parents will have a heart attack." Your accent getting thicker as you scowl.

Goo laughed, "The review really tell no lies, huh? You locals really are friendly and funny. I like you but news flash you are the money. And I'm gonna make sure you're an easy one."

Cracking you neck, you get on your stance. His smirk gets wider as he read your body language.

You then pointed behind him, "Fuiyoh! Is that Uncle Roger?!" He raised a brow, and turn over his shoulder, giving you just the time to make a run for it. He deadpanned, "Wow."

Your feet scratched on the concrete as you took sharp turn to an alleyway. Picking up your feet as fast as you can. Don't get any wrong ideas. You're not a coward. You can fight. And you have the right to use it for self defense. But the idea of a random Korean guy coming here for you still sound absurd. Yet again what are the odds? Money is money. This guy must be loaded. Like super loaded.

"Hey."

Your eyes widened over your shoulder as he towers you, ready to pin you down with his fist. However you were quick to react, putting your foot down and pull your weight back and swerve to the side, dodging his attack. His fist meet the concrete, leaving huge crack from the strong impact.

"Superman?" You uttered in disbelief. You gasped, ducking your upper body to the front as his kick went pass you. You can feel strong breeze blowing your through you. He really does mean business. You really going to meet God at this point. But you aren't ready yet. You haven't repent to your past sins. You might as well get serious too.

You dodged his attacks swiftly. And by the looks of it he's having just as much fun. Blocking his hit with precise predictions, he take notes that you are no amateur. However quickly pushed aside that thought when he grasped the nearby rusty pipe, pulling it off like it's nothing and swing it towards you.

You groaned in pain. Your head throbbed like crazy as you stare at him judgmentally, "What the fuck, man?!" He whistled lowly, tossing the pipe playfully in his hand. He was impressed by your iron head and the fact that you hardly bleed. "You're playing dirty." You gritted your teeth, rubbing the sore spot. He shrugged, his smirk didn't falter, "I know. That's kinda my thing. Wanna see what else I can do?"

Again you found yourself being tossed across the store, damaging another property of others as people scramming out for their lives. "Sorry, aunty!" You said to the owner, picking your feet up.

"Haiyah, again ah?! You cannot stop causing trouble. I'll tell your mother." She scolded while pointed angrily at you, her accent is thick as a brick. Then at Goo, "You also! You think I cannot tell if somebody have a plastic surgery? You must have a lot of money, meh. So pay lah!"

"That's a shitty stereotype, lady." Goo stated. She spat back, "Ceh! What fuck do I give? (Name)! You settle this. This is why you haven't got married yet." She sigh heavily, shaking her head with disappointment before leaving the store from the backroom.

"I almost feel bad." Goo rolled his neck after the brief earful. You brushed him off, "I'm versatile. Where were we? Right, question. How much they paid you? Because I'm sure I wasn't even worth a million."

His hand rest the pipe on his shoulder while the other scratched his chin, "You'd be surprised. You're sort of a big shot, you should be proud."

"Proud? They call me anak saka. I'm a bad omen. That's God's job." You retorted. He snickered.

"Yeah, but me? I'm just doing devil's work here. Stop playing around. Just let me beat the shit out of you, yeah?" Lightly hitting the edge of the metal onto his palm rhythmically, he pulled a sadistic grin before charging at you with the speed of light.

Translations:

Mee goreng satu - one fried noodle

Bismillah - doing something "in the name of God"

Milo - popular cocoa drink

Sialan - fucker

Myvi - Malaysian car that is popular as a symbol of humour due to the random absurdity that they often occurred in. (Example/better understatement: Florida typa shit humour)

Lah - use as an addiction in a sentence in any way. Literally.

Fuiyoh - malay version of "wow"

Uncle Roger - popular Malaysian food critic Youtuber.

Haiyah - imagine the word 'sigh" but you pronounce the word instead of actually sighing. A term to use when you're disappointed.

Ceh - malay version of "tch" (Pronounced: ch-eh)

Anak saka - anak (child), saka (ancestral jinn what was pass down from the heritage) = devil's child.

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Lion's Pride [Part 3]

Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: Your new job as a Full Time Royal Therapist does not pay nearly as well as you'd like. Or, Leona is more of a problem child than he would ever admit, but you're surprisingly okay at dealing with that.

[PART 1][PART 2] [PART 3]

Sometimes you felt like you hardly knew what it meant to be a functional person, living a comfortable life on the fringes of society. So in comparison, trying to think of what it meant to be an actual prince, ruling over all of said society was something you literally could not comprehend no matter how hard you tried to wrap your head around it.  

“If you’re a Prince, what were you doing in a hole?” you asked, because you had far too many questions and concerns, and this one at least seemed easy enough to address. And also because you were genuinely pretty curious.  

The newly dubbed ‘Leona’ twitched against your back and you felt the low rumble of his snarl work its way from the depths of his gut all the way up through his chest and out his mouth.

“Holy shit,” Ace wheezed. “Screw this. I’m getting out of here before I wind up implicated as an accessory in your murder.”

And so your trusty friend abandoned you to the wolves lions?—darting away so quickly he always forget his bag, shoes, and everything else in the process.

You waved after him as he departed, knowing full well that he’d wind up stumbling back within the week, maybe two at most. He always did, no matter how much he complained about your Present Company. Plain old ‘murder’ was actually one of his more polite accusations. When he’d run into your Hunter friend the first time, Ace had gone on a wildly incoherent rant about how he was going to find your corpse strung up in a tree like some weird, ritual, sacrifice. And then that had devolved into something-something cannibalism or other. The visiting Hunter had just thrown his head back and laughed, positively enamored with the grisliness of it all. Ace had vanished for almost an entire month after that encounter, but he did come back—glaring up at you with a miserable pout like you were the one who’d gone and fucked off for thirty whole days.

Leona snorted and you felt the puff of breath against the back of your neck.

“Coward,” he grumbled, though he didn’t sound particularly displeased about your friend’s sudden departure.

“Fear lets us be brave,” you responded, wise as a sage. Or maybe an old frog in a puddle.

“Yeah?” he intoned, rolling his eyes. “And when’s that little rat ever been brave?”

“There’s always tomorrow,” you chirped, and that snort turned into something dangerously close to a chuckle. Which—gasp!—how dare such a pleasant sound fall from the lips of someone so obstinately determined to be otherwise! You grinned at the low tones of it, only for the snickering to cut off sharply in his throat once he’d realized what he was doing. And then of course he shoved you forward and out of his lap with a great amount of indignant snarling.

You laid there for a few minutes—face down in the sun-warmed grass and laughing quietly about just how ridiculous this stupid Lion was, before finally sitting up with a pleasant stretch. He could put on airs all he liked, you knew there was kernel of something far less angsty and murderous buried at the heart of him.

“So,” you hummed, lazily making your way back to your feet. “What exactly have I done to draw the realm’s Prince to my doorstep?” You squinted at him suspiciously. “You’re not here about the fairy gate thing, are you? Because that was actually an accident.”

“The what?” he frowned, brow pinched in confusion.

You waved him off. “Ah, nothing, nothing.”

Something in his jaw twitched, like now he was going to push the subject out of principle of you being shifty. But he just sighed and brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

“I need your help,” he said finally. Just as crabby as the first time he’d asked, if perhaps just a touch less imperious.

You arched a brow. “I think you’ve mentioned that already, yes.”

Silence.

The Lion stared you down with a slowly deepening scowl, and you stared back with a smile as placid and unmoved as the shallow pond you’d nearly drowned Ace in not an hour before.  

“If I apologize, you’ll help me?” he asked after a long moment, the question turning sharp at the end on a bitten of growl.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” you hummed back and he crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, with all the pleasantry of someone undergoing a root canal. And all the sincerity of Ace swearing that this was the last time he’d get caught evading the tax man, promise.

You sighed, feeling a bit cheated. But you hadn’t really stipulated anything beyond those two little words leaving his mouth, so if anything, that was on you.

“Alright,” you huffed. “What is it you need help with?”

The Lion glared at you suspiciously for a long moment—glowing eyes narrowed into slits and tail twitching back and forth like he was swatting flies. Finally, he sighed and lifted his hands out in front of him with a pointed flex.  

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” he frowned sourly, wrists twisting to display the pointed claws tipping his fingers. “I’m not supposed to get stuck in between.”

Your eyes traced the fluffy tufts of his round ears, the black-tipped tail swishing irritably at his hind, and allowed yourself a melancholy sort of huff.

“But you look good like this,” you pointed out sadly. Because he really, truly, did. Leona without his squishy lion ears would just be… grumpy. Miserable, and angular, and angry. Nothing soft worth coddling at all.

“That’s not the point!” he snapped, baring his overlarge canines at you. There was a darker cast along his cheekbones that seemed to be making a valiant effort to crawl all the way up into his fringe. “And don’t fucking say that!”

You frowned. One second this stupid dick wanted to be praised to the Heavens and back! Practically swanning about, demanding you bow down and acknowledge his blatant superiority. But, oh no. Apparently your meager half-sentence masquerading as a compliment was too much for his delicate, princely, sensibilities.

“Fine,” you griped. “You’re ugly.”

He growled—low and rumbling—and if he was anymore of a cat you’d say you could see his hackles raising in indignation. But before he could launch into another vicious, verbal, evisceration of your person, you cleared your throat loudly in an attempt to get him back on track.   

“What do you mean by ‘stuck in between?’”

He sneered down at you testily for a moment before reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose again and letting out a put-upon sort of sigh that was not at all indicative of the fact that he was the one asking you for help.

“The Shift. When you found me in that pit, I should have been able to Shift between that form and this one without issue,” he frowned, brow tugging down tight with something a bit more disquieted than his usual, flat, annoyance. “The iron was a problem, but once I was out of the trap, it should have been fine. I’ve dealt with cursed snares like this before, and the effects have never lingered as long as this one has.”

You blinked owlishly. That did sound… fairly unpleasant. And honestly, if you were in his position you’d also be at least a little concerned that something else was at play. But, still, all that being said—

“I’m sorry,” you frowned, more or less genuine. Perhaps leaning a bit harder into less.“But I don’t understand how that has anything to do with me.”

“You were down there with me,” he argued. “You dismantled the trap.”

Uh, yeah. By messing with bits that looked breakable until they broke. Not exactly a high-level intellectual pursuit.

You didn’t say that, of course. Because after a few days watching you scuttle about your homestead like a particularly vocal lizard in the dirt, you were sure he already thought you were stupid enough without you outright admitting to it. Nevertheless, the Lion observed your zip-lipped silence with an ever-deepening scowl.

“You took it apart,” he tried again, nearly a growl.

“Yes,” you said with a nod.

“You know how you did it,” he continued, firm. At your lack of affirmative, he pushed again. “You know. I watched you do it!”

You raised your hand nervously and made a little so-so tilting motion.

Anyone less refined would no doubt have had their head in their hands at this point, but Leona just curled his lip at you and looked like he was fighting valiantly not to put your own very silly head through a wall.

“It was charmed,” he spat. “Bound up with talismans, and cursed down to its very moldings. That isn’t something any random farmer could walk up and break.”

“Oh,” you blinked, taken aback, and struggled to recall if there had been anything so obviously enchanted about the trap you’d fiddled into bits. “Was it?”

And head had officially met hands. He ground his clawed fingers into his temples like you were a headache that with enough determination and massaging he may somehow be able to will away.

“Couldn’t you go just home if this is such a big problem?” you asked, still genuinely baffled at it all. “Get help from your family? I mean, you’re a Prin—”

“No,” he interrupted, emerald eyes gone glacier cold.

You frowned, as unimpressed by his prickliness as you usually were. But something in you was hesitant to prod at whatever it was that had managed to tug a feral rage so tightly across his face—like drawing a shade over a window until the entire home was cloaked in shadow, or slipping away behind a carved mask too heavy to ever wear comfortably. It was an expression so sharp and so bitter that if you hadn’t only just yesterday watched this stubborn man lounge about in the sun as your chickens hopped all over him like he was the world’s most carnivorous jungle gym, you wouldn’t ever have known that they could be the same person at all. 

“Alright,” you shrugged, and some of that angry, hunched, defensiveness eased into confusion.

“Hah?” he frowned.

“Alright,” you said again. “We’ll figure it out here.” He glared over at you balefully, and you waved off the obvious retort on the tip of his tongue about something-something-you have no idea what you’re doing-something-something-dangerous risks and lifelong consequences-blablabla. “I have a friend who would know a lot more about those kinds of traps and talismans that I do. He could help, probably.”

“Probably?” he scoffed. Though when he rolled his eyes, they weren’t quite so hate filled—lids hooded with a familiar, begrudging sort of irritation rather than outright malice.

“He’s a bit of an enigma,” you explained—wiggling your fingers in a little, sparkly, dance to emphasize the, well, enigmatic part.

Another huff. But amidst that grumpy bellyaching, you watched those fluffy ears of his slowly perk back up atop his head, and his tail swish leisurely behind him. The Lion certainly didn’t look happy (but did he ever? So was that really a fair comparison?), but he definitely seemed like he’d thawed into something less ‘frigid dead of winter’ and more ‘unpleasantly nippy spring morning.’

“Weirder than you, herbivore?” he sniffed, looking down his nose at you and crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “I find that hard to believe.”

Normally you would too. But, well…

“He’s charming,” you chirped pleasantly, and Leona’s face twisted up like you’d served him a bowl of rancid yogurt.

.

.

That night you composed a letter to your dearest Hunter friend. You thanked him for bringing you the White Moor Stag, elaborated a bit on the new marinade you’d been experimenting with, and then ended the whole thing with a polite plea for his aid in deconstructing the mechanisms of a magical trap you’d encountered. You bribed one of your two carrier pigeons with some snacks and watched it fly off into the unknown with a little, cream-colored envelope tied to its foot. Message talismans were much simpler and far more convenient, but the Hunter always seemed to appreciate the personal touch of postal birds.

Leona glared at you from the window, and made some dramatic swipe at your pigeon like he meant to knock it out of the air. The poor bird tottered about like an overfilled water balloon—jiggling and wriggling in its roundness before eventually righting itself and continuing on into the sky with a warbled coo coo.

“Don’t be rude,” you huffed at him.

“I can’t believe you still won’t let me in,” he sneered from beneath the fluff of that blanket you’d gifted him. “I apologized.”

“Yes, but you actually have to mean it,” you explained, not unkindly, as he prowled just beyond the glass. “But we’re making progress!” you beamed. “That’s something! Maybe you’ll make it in here within the next five years, hmm?”

“Or I could just wipe out the entirety of your ridiculous dirt farm now,” he threatened, a bit of that sandy magic swirling sinisterly along his fingers.

“You certainly could, your highness,” you agreed easily. His lip curled unpleasantly, but that glowing, gritty, arcana faded away and he didn’t move from where he’d tucked himself up under the duvet.

After another solid fifteen minutes of his pissy glowering and barbed insults, you pointedly unclipped the ties on your curtains and let them fall shut so that his ridiculous pouting was hidden away behind the thin, cotton, mess of poorly stitched flowers and herbs.

(You did leave a nice dinner plate on the ledge before that, with extra portions of meat and a neatly frosted cookie for dessert. Because as much as your day had been a bit rough, you had a feeling his melancholy extended far beyond being left out in the dark for another evening.)

.

.

The next morning, your doddering pigeon returned with an elegantly bound scroll—all embellished with golden filagree and tied up in a neat, crimson, bow.

“Why does this freak call you ‘mon cher ami,’” Leona sniffed, tongue curling awkwardly over the unfamiliar words.

You sighed and debated snatching the letter back, but all that would probably culminate in was the paper in tatters and a smug beastman lording his superior letter-wrangling skills over your head like a trophy.

“It’s just one of his little ticks,” you explained with a shrug. “I told you—he’s charming.”

“Ah, yes,” Leona drawled, tracing a claw along the parchment’s edge with a soft shhhhhft. A raised, white, line cut across the paper’s surface like the beginnings of a wound. “Waxing poetic nonsense in a foreign language. Rambling on about all kinds of useless fucking garbage. Charming.”

“You,” you snipped, reaching out to smack at his tightening grip before he could rend the poor correspondence to bits, “are not one to talk about ‘charming.’”

“Oh?” he scoffed. He maneuvered around your tutting to hold the letter over your head. Typical. When you leaned forward to try and wrangle it back, Leona leaned in closer—eyes going hooded and lips curling into a smug little smirk that promised all sorts of trouble. “Haven’t had any complaints about that before. Who’d be saying otherwise?”

“The person you left stranded at the bottom of a pit, you inglorious oaf,” you griped. His ears immediately swiveled to pin flat against the top of his head, and you used the distraction of his indignation to finally snatch back your prize. “Besides,” you huffed, straightening out some of the new wrinkles. “Not very Prince-like, is it? A real prince would have swept in to save the idiot in distress. Sword drawn, banners flying,” you sighed, a bit too besotted with your own imaginings. “Why did you have to be such a dick, huh? Ruined my fantasies for the rest of my life.”

“And what?” Leona snapped. “Some rogue bastard sending you cursive garbage does it for you?”

“Better than being left for dead in a hole after saving their life,” you smiled—perfectly, poisonously, pleasant.

Leona rumbled something indiscernible under his breath and turned to glare petulantly off across your garden.

“Besides,” you hummed, looking over the letter. “There’s more important things. Like this—right here. Do you know what a self-bored stone is? He’s thinking maybe there was a process like that with the iron shackles. Or maybe something to do with seeping the components in herbs… Hmm…”

“Whatever,” Leona scoffed. “I’ll try whatever it takes to fix this shit.”

You clapped him amiably on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit, tête de noeud!”

“The fuck did you just call me?!”

“Poetic nonsense,” you chirped, and Leona looked half ready to drop you back into the hole where he’d found you.

.

.

The first attempt to aid the Lion Prince in his conundrum didn’t go particularly well.

You’d tried to work off of the whole ‘overlap with a self-bored stone’ theory, but all that really amounted to was you gesturing like an over-serious crossing guard for him to walk under every low hanging branch, every arch, beneath the stunted beams of the chicken coop. You dangled rocks from strings and waved around your little creations like slightly more dangerous pompoms.

Penelope clucked irritably when one of the pebbles fell with a plunk into her nest, and Leona frowned up at you from where the wayward chicken had firmly situated herself in his lap.

“How was any of that supposed to help?”

You drew a blank and promised to try something new tomorrow.

The next day you tried herbs. The Hunter had listed off quite a few that were known to cause lingering issues with magical creatures, and you harvested the lot of them from your garden with ease. You held them up to Leona’s face one by one, brow furrowed in concentration, as you waited for… something.

“How is this any better than the rocks?” he complained.

You pushed the bright, butter-yellow, blossoms of some Saint John’s Wort under his nose until he sneezed and shoved you away with a slew of indignant threats to your person.

The following few days were spent perusing your meager library. You carted every book you owned on magic, and binding rituals, and rune smithing out into the yard. Leona looked over at the slowly growing pile of tomes with a truly unimpressed scowl.

“You could have just invited me inside,” he griped, rolling his eyes. He was splayed out in the grass at your side, his head tossed lazily across your lap after he’d complained that he needed at least some leverage to see what you were trying to read.

“Nice try,” you hummed, reaching for your page of hastily scribbled notes. “But you’re not getting off without a genuine apology that easy.”

A week passed in this fashion, with you attempting to string together more and more ludicrous ideas—throwing everything you had at the wall and hoping something, anything, would stick. But Leona’s ears stayed tufted and round. That tail seemed to only grow more twitchy, his claws longer and sharper.

You sent the Hunter another letter and waited anxiously for a reply. When it arrived the next morning, Leona snatched it from your pigeon before you’d even made it out your front door. It was a miserable sort of day—pouring rain and with nothing but the grey cloud cover overhead to color the world.

He read it over once, twice, before dropping it to the ground. You could see the tendons twitching along his jaw, could practically hear his molars grinding in his frustration.

You plucked the note from the grass and looked it over carefully.  

‘Mon ami, while I am loathe to address this, perhaps it is not the make of this trap at all that is causing such a vexation? Is there any chance that rather than this being a lingering malady, that this friend of yours was simply unable to overcome the initial curse in the first place?’

You glanced back up at Leona, who was intermittently clenching his fists at his sides. You could see the harsh indentations from where his claws were digging into the skin of his palms.

‘Sometimes such things just happen, je crains. The flesh may be willing, but often the spirit is weak. You mentioned this Roi du Leon has a powerful family he may turn to for assistance. Certainly one of them may be strong enough to overcome this curse for him, even if he perhaps is not.’

“Of course it’s all because I’m a fuck up,” Leona snarled. Some of that spitting, sandy, magic of his seeped into the air. It bit at the rain like an overeager dog. You could see it dancing along his skin—fighting to pull his features one way or another.

“He didn’t say that,” you pointed out gently. “And even if you were, there’s nothing wrong with needing help sometimes. Your family—"

“—Would rather I keeled over dead and stopped sullying my brother’s perfect fucking reputation!” he snapped. “Heir to the King’s Roar,” he scoffed. “Stupid. I was never going to be a king to begin with. And even if I had been born first, they would have deposed me to put their flawless, favorite, golden boy on the throne anyways.”

That... That was a lot. You stared at the pacing Lion with wide eyes—unsure how to help, unsure if any attempts to do so would only make this worse. This was—this was so above your ‘happy, homey, hermit’ paygrade.

“Of course this is all because of me,” he hissed, that roiling, angry, arcana coiling around him like curdled milk. The pupils in his eyes flickered oddly from round to thin-cut, hard, lines. Beastly. “Of course it was because I wasn’t good enough.”

“Leona,” you tried, as gentle as you could be.

The Prince threw his head back and laughed. And laughed, and laughed.

“I should have known!” he cackled, borderline hysterical. “I should have fucking known!”

“Leona—” you tried again, reaching out a hand.

Only to be immediately knocked on your ass by an explosion of magic.

You’d heard of self-destruction—of implosion. The arcane wonders of the world were a wily and unyielding mistress. While creatures like Leona who were so naturally steeped in ancient magics and sorcery could control that beast more adeptly than some little mortal like you, it didn’t make them any less susceptible to its dangers. If anything, they had it worse. It was like sitting in a shallow stream versus wading out into a roaring ocean. So much more opportunity, such a higher aptitude for greatness, but far too easy to drown beneath the churning tides of it all.

The inky, geometric, swirls along his arms pulsed like a heartbeat. They crawled along his skin and traced black patterns into his veins. Even you could feel the horrible, dark, stickiness of it—as the magic ate him alive. His face twisted back and forth between human and animal, and you watched him contort and snarl under the weight of it before turning on you with a vicious roar.

Uh oh.

The first wave of magic seared the ground, leaving nothing but strange, grey, sand in its wake. The more he snapped and clawed wildly at anything and everything, the more that dusty desert spread. You managed to hop out of the way of most of it—sparing a single, sad, thought for all the poor plants you’d worked so hard to cultivate dying a miserable, grainy, death.

The next arc of magic shot straight from his clawed fingers, and it managed to catch the flesh of your forearm. It was sharper than any dagger or sword that you’d ever had the pleasure of accidentally nicking yourself with, and it tore its way down your arm like a raging beast, leaving an eerie, tacky, bubbling mess in its wake. And ouch did it hurt—like someone was taking a fistful of coarse sand and rubbing it into the open wound. You ground your teeth against the strange, gnawing, sensation and hastily wrapped a bit of torn fabric around the weeping gash to keep it a bit more contained. You waited for the worst of it to pass, for that initial bite to fade into a more manageable throb. But it didn’t. It just got sharper and tighter, hotter and hotter. For a moment it felt like your skin was crackling—like firewood popping and splitting beneath the weight of a blaze. From across the field, Leona made a noise like a hurricane given voice, and you bit back a groan.

‘Oh come on,’ you hissed to yourself. ‘Not now, please.’  

And while you’d been mostly referring to the Lion losing another brick of his sanity fort, your wound seemed to pulse at the command—a sensation not unlike the soft drone of the wards carved deep into the support beams of your dilapidated home, and an impression of words tingling along your nerves without any real shape or form. ‘Alright. Later then.’ Like a breath of wind along your fingertips. That pulsing doubled back, and the wrap you’d hurriedly tied around your forearm hummed low with gentle arcana.   

And then the cracking stopped. Just like that. Like it’d given up on eating you alive and decided to head home early for the day.

Huh, you though a bit dazedly, before hurriedly ducking out of the way of another swipe.

You clutched your still smarting but at least now functional arm to your chest, and Leona turned on you and your ethereal booboo with a raging snarl. But then that glowing glare caught on the blood trailing down towards your wrist in too dark, too thick, rivulets and his eyes went wide. It wasn’t much, but the strange bought of shock rocketing through him gave you a handful of seconds of ceasefire. You reached into your pocket with your uninjured hand and pulled out a thick bit of cardstock. This was supposed to be for emergencies, goddamn it! And you’d spent so much money on this stupid little thing! And—

You shook off the mildly delusional complaints bogging down your brain and unfolded the paper between your fingers. The sigils inked into it hummed against your skin, and the rain sluffed off its face like the cold and the damp were no bother at all.

“Fucking—” you flung the talisman at your ridiculous, rampaging, guest. It fluttered like the beat of a hawk’s wings and dove towards him with just as much vicious precision. “GO TO SLEEP!”

The enchantment smacked into his face with an echoing THUNK and you watched those too-bright eyes of his roll up into his head as he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

With the main source of all the Magical Warfare knocked unconscious, most of the miasma began to disperse—like dust caught up in a gale. The rain washed away the rest. It slid into the mud and seeped back into the earth. The plants and animals seemed to give a collective sigh, and some of your more courageous chickens even started to venture in close to peck at the leftover destruction.

You approached the felled Prince hesitantly. The talisman had been meant for subduing an enemy with a more human constitution, so you doubted it would keep him down for very long.

“Hey,” you grouched, poking his side. He twitched a bit but didn’t move otherwise. “Hey, asshole,” you tried again. Still, nothing. Uh oh.

You reached down to wedge an arm under him and hoist him upright. The singed skin of your forearm brushed along his jaw as you attempted to maneuver his bulk, and his nose twitched sharply at whatever scent was trapped in the dark, cracking, gash there. His brow scrunched up like you’d just doused him in spoiled milk, so naturally you went about waving your wounded flesh beneath his nostrils like the world’s strangest smelling salts.

After a moment he blinked back awake, face twisted up into the most properly disgruntled mien of distaste that you’d ever seen on a person who’d only just barely managed to claw their way back into the world of the living.

“Herbivore,” he rumbled, still looking more than a bit dazed.

Good enough.

You manhandled him back onto his feet as best you could—turning yourself into an impromptu crutch to try and get him mobile again. The sand shifted and sank beneath your heels, making dragging his ridiculous, dramatic, ass even more of a challenge. As you hauled him towards your cottage, you complained to him in earnest. Every little irritation under the sun. Half because you’d probably never have another opportunity to bitch at him so thoroughly without getting your own earful of grievances in return, half to keep him conscious—keep him focused on staying here. With you. And not… Wherever it was he’d gone in those moments of delirium.  

“I still don’t get why you call me that,” you griped, readjusting your grip on him when he’d started to slide down to the point his nose had buried itself against your collarbone. “Herbivore. I’ve cooked so much meat for you since you decided to crash here. Talked about how I prepare it, and the flavors I experiment with—I literally gave you some from my own sandwich when we first met! That I ate the rest of! In front of you!—”

When you finally herded him over the threshold and into your little cottage, the wards and their protection slipped around him like the soft current of a stream. You hardly even noticed the way the old magics ruffled his hair—and that was only because you were actively looking, half convinced the house was still about to toss up an invisible barrier and send him sprawling back into the dirt.

Leona wobbled on his feet, and his eyes were still too far away and grey.

You grabbed him by the ear and maneuvered his too-tall self into one of your rickety kitchen chairs. The wood groaned under the sudden press of his dead weight, but it didn’t collapse beneath him so it wasn’t worth fussing over. Once you were certain he wasn’t about to fold over sideways and crumple to the ground (or at least, that he was angled enough over a rug that he wasn’t going to crack his head on the stone floor), you rushed off to your bookcases and shelves and began hurriedly rumaging through your collection of nonsense.

The charms, the charms. Where were your emergency charms?! You’d thought you left them right there on the—Ah! There we go.

You pulled the raggedy binder from its place on the shelf, blew away the coating of dust that had settled over the top of it, and returned to your patient.

You flipped open the worn leather hooks and began sorting through the dozens upon dozens of sheets of enchanted parchment within. They were unimpressive—just small, rectangular, bits of faded paper inlaid with the softest kinds of magic. Not meant for much more than coaxing warmth into chilly limbs or placing a soft kiss over a scraped knee. But medicines were medicines—whether arcane in origin or otherwise. If you—if you just doused him in the things, that would probably work. Right? Of course it would. That made perfect sense.

So you slapped the first talisman square in the middle of his forehead. Leona swayed at the wet SMACK of the paper gluing itself to his soaked-through skin, but aside from the faintest, startled, widening of his eyes, he didn’t do anything else to complain. So you stuck the next charm to his cheek, and then another on the opposite one too.

“Magic overuse is dangerous,” you chastised as you went about layering a veritable novel’s worth of pasty, paper, enchantments up his arms. The soft spells worked their way into his skin, and you watched those twisting, black, shapes skitter back up towards where they’d once sat peacefully curled around his bicep. “Are you trying to kill yourself, hah?!”

Instead of snapping back at you like normal, he just sort of… sat there. Accepting your angry accusations in frosty silence. He absolutely looked like a cat that you’d fished out of a bag in the river. Pathetic, and sad, and droopy. And… quiet. So, very, quiet. You frowned, because as much as you didn’t particularly enjoy being insulted every minute of the day, the Lion’s biting little remarks had become… familiar, at the very least. Even if they weren’t entirely pleasant. Even if he was far from pleasant.

The dampness on his skin was starting to curl the edges of your talismans, and you reached forward with a huff to at least pull the freezing, soaked-through, vest off his shoulders. The leather jacket landed with a wet plap on the stone floor, a cold puddle already pooling around all its stupidly intricate, embroidered, edges. Something fluttered out of one of the open pockets—small, and off white, and crinkled. You stepped over the whole mess to retrieve a pile of towels and didn’t give it a second thought.

“Make a mess of my home, why don’t you,” you complained, dropping one of the towels over the entirety of his head before reaching forward to start drying him off with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. “Drip all over the floors I just mopped, why don’t you. Be emotionally constipated and almost turn my whole yard into a sand pit, why don’t you—”

A hand reached out to snag your wrist, and you let him pull you away from your attempts to rub all that stupidly thick hair straight off his head.

From beneath the curtain of the cotton towel, you could see Leona glaring at the long, dark, scratch curling along your forearm. It certainly wasn’t… nice to look at. The gymnastics of getting him into your cottage had managed to displace the impromptu bandage, so the whole of it was just there. Bruised, and dark, and odd looking. But ugly or not, it was hardly bleeding or anything anymore! And he was the one who had almost just self-destructed in your front yard!

‘Think of the accusations!’ you wanted to wail. ‘Can you imagine the garbage I would have to deal with if I wound up with a dead royal fertilizing my garden?! No thank you!’

But before you could complain about his fussing, his claws flexed against the soft skin of your palm and you saw the muscles along his forearm tense—like he was fighting to keep still.

“You should be dead,” he muttered, terse.

You huffed. “Look, I know you think humans are all sorts of pathetic, but I’m not that—”

“You should be dead,” he repeated, sounding as if the words had to tear their way out of his throat—scraping like shards of glass all the way up.

You stared at his dark eyes and dripping bangs—the shadows playing across his cheeks and the strange, hollow, wrongness that had settled over all of him. With a heavy sigh you plopped yourself down into the chair across from his and dragged a handful of the leftover charms your way. Pointedly, you took one and slapped it over the wound. And then another.  

“See?” you said, flexing your wrist in his grip to put the creeping, black, cut on display. The talismans glowed softly against your skin and the lingering whisps of darkness licking at the the injury began to fade. “All better. Not something a dead person would say at all.”

Leona frowned, but at least it looked a bit more annoyed than outright bleak. And besides, frowns were better than whatever that stoic, expressionless, numbness had been.

“Though I appreciate your concern,” you grinned, pointedly sharp and prodding. Like a toddler standing by with a stick, hoping to poke out a reaction. “Truly, whatever would I do without the Great Lord Lion there to fret over me?”

But instead of the acidic ‘I wasn’t fucking worried,’ that you were expecting, or even a more muted grumble of dissent, Leona’s brow just pinched in displeasure and your awkward attempts at teasing faded into terse silence.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, almost too quiet to hear—his head low and eyes lower.

You sighed and twisted your wrist around to pat at his hand. There was the faintest tremor in his fingers and you tangled your own between them to give him something to squeeze, something to hide the shiver of lingering malaise that he would no doubt deny with his dying breath. You observed the stern, tight, expression warping his otherwise handsome face—the miserable, puckered, angle of his mouth and the way the emerald of his eyes was cut through with a shadow of genuine remorse. You reached out with your other hand to pet at his soft, round ears. They squished flat beneath your palm and your lips twitched up into a fond, little smile. Leona tipped his chin just enough to glower at you from beneath his bangs with no real heat, and you sighed and gave him one more pat for good measure.

“You’re forgiven.”

.

.

.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

Let's do the OG cat. Do you think Meowth would be a good pet?

Yes, a meowth would indeed make a good pet! In fact, we finally have another member of the “pretty much just a cat” cat-agory. If you are the owner of a real-world cat, or are a cat person in general, chances are you would have no problem welcoming a little meowth into your life. Just make sure you have some spare change on hand, it’s the quickest way into one of these little guys’ hearts.

Meowths are the perfect size to be a house pet at just over a foot tall. You’d have no problem making space for them in most homes, and getting them around is a breeze. While they have some formidable claws, they are able to retract them (Ruby/Sapphire), so the risk of an accidental scratch from a meowth is about equal with a normal cat (experienced cat owners, interpret that info as you will).

Meowths are pretty easygoing pokémon with a long track-record of getting along with humans, especially those with generous, full pockets. Meowths can be fickle at times (Ultra Moon) and are often free-wandering spirits (Red/Blue). A responsible meowth owner needs to make sure that they don’t let their meowth menace the native bird and bug pokémon of their neighborhood, since these little hunters are avid explorers. Keeping a meowth happy is as simple as providing them with a steady supply of coins or coin-like offerings. Meowths have a natural love for round, shiny objects (Red/Blue, Yellow), and they are known to hoard (Silver) and play with them until they fall asleep (Gold). Make sure to provide your meowth with a safe spot to store their hoard!

While standard meowths get along with other pokémon species well enough — aside from rivals like murkrows (Moon) — keep in mind that they are known to not get along well with other regional variants, like Galarian meowths (Shield). Meowths will be most at-home with night-owls, as these pokémon are mostly nocturnal (Yellow).

Despite their sharp claws, meowths aren’t exceptionally dangerous. Most of their natural move set revolves around scratching enemies, which shouldn’t do much damage to a person beyond the superficial wounds that any standard house cat could inflict. Before I move on from the topic of meowths’ moves, I need to address the money-generating elephant in the room: Pay Day. This signature move is well known amongst pokémon trainers, because upon a hit the meowth scatters coins on the ground. There’s a common misconception that owning a meowth is essentially a get-rich-quick scheme due to this move, but don’t get it twisted: as far as we know, meowths can’t generate money out of thin air. It’s far more likely that these battling pokémon are using their secret collection to attack. Besides, if you’re looking to adopt a pet just to get money, your heart’s not really in the right place.

In all honesty, if you’re a cat person, you’re a meowth person. They’re essentially cats that walk on two feet. They’re clever (I’ve even heard rumors that they have the ability to learn to speak, though I’ve never seen it confirmed), curious, and cute, and the perfect pet for many owners.

[initial-lime]

I know nothing about the silt verses other than my moots on here’s posts, very delightful, seems interesting although I’m quite lost

Maybe I’ll give it a spin myself sometime

sorry about the silt verses spam <- boy who is absolutely not at all sorry

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - December 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles for 50% off this month!

1. Rooftop Solar Keeps Getting More Accessible Across Incomes

“The long-term trend is that the median income for a household with rooftop solar is getting closer almost every year to that of the median income for owner-occupied households.”

2. Endangered seabirds return to Pacific island after century-long absence

“"No native species were harmed during the removal of invasive rats from Kamaka Island,” Esposito said. […] The team also collected and planted native sedges and grasses while removing invasive trees to enhance nesting conditions.”

3. First-of-its-kind crew welfare measure adopted at Pacific fisheries summit

“The new measure establishes minimum standards on board, including access to clean food and water, medical care, and sleeping quarters. It stipulates that workers have “unfettered access” to their identity documents […] and “unmonitored access to communication devices to seek assistance.””

4. Greyhound racing is increasingly rare worldwide. New Zealand now plans to outlaw the practice

“New Zealand’s government rushed through a law to prevent dogs from being killed while the industry winds down, unless a veterinarian deems it unavoidable. This will prevent owners from euthanizing dogs for economic reasons, Peters said.”

5. Possible Win-Win for Wildlife Management and Food Security

“Wild-harvested meat donation programs can help improve food insecurity while also helping manage overabundance of wildlife species like white-tailed deer[…. In one program,] hunters donated 600,000 meals. But that’s only 5.7% of the amount of venison that food donation facilities could use, according to the Food Bank Council of Michigan. The researchers say this suggests there’s room for scaling up these programs.”

6. Poll of American Farmers Shows Strong, Widespread Support for Increased Farm Bill Conservation Funding

“The polling, which surveyed over 500 farmers and ranchers across the country, found broad support for continuing and increasing funding for climate-smart agriculture conservation programs.”

7. Long-distance friendships enhance trust in conservation efforts

“Relative to a person with no long-distance friends, having even just one friend in another village led to a 15% increase in conservation activities such as beach cleanups, reporting illegal fishing practices and educating others about sustainable resource management.”

8. Two major Sunshine State airports make switch to 100 pct renewables

“Power for operations ranging from lighting and air conditioning to escalators and charging stations will be provided from renewable energy projects [...] at the beginning of 2025, ensuring clean energy operations for the more than 8 million passenger journeys averaged each year.”

9. Expansion of federally subsidized public housing may offer a path out of LA's homelessness crisis

“[… A] half-cent sales tax [was] recently approved by L.A. County voters expected to generate $1 billion per year to address homelessness. […] “Metros with higher concentrations of federally financed public housing tend to have lower rates of unsheltered homelessness," Schachner said.”

10. $20 Million Available to Advance Habitat Restoration Priorities of Tribes and Underserved Communities

“Through this funding, NOAA will help support community-driven habitat restoration and build the capacity of tribes and underserved communities to more fully participate in restoration activities.”

December 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[blaydie]

Gender neutral reader x Blade

Synopsis: An accident at the accommodation resulted in a late-night stroll to the store. Tensions were high as things grew heated between you and Blade. After resolving your issues, you were met with yet another challenge just before entering the store. He was sure no one would recognise him while he was dressed undercover.

Word count: 1.3k

Contains: Slice of life, subtle displays of affection, Blade in casual attire, gender neutral reader, fluff.

Duty calls. Except, it wasn’t duty at all. It was an evening stroll to the store to stock up on food supplies after a kitchen incident. Burnt food. A completely wrecked pan too. You were guilty as charged for destroying the pan, but he was the one who forgot it was on the stove in the first place. 

By your side was Blade, his appearance concealed from head to toe: a black beanie, sunglasses, surgical mask, and a matching black outfit to go. If you weren’t handed money before heading out of the door, you would question whether you were sourcing these items ethically with his mysterious appearance or if you were robbing the building. 

It was tense. His strides were far too long for you to keep up, trailing behind greatly while he effortlessly walked ahead. Though he claimed he wasn’t upset, it was clear he was throwing some form of tantrum. The two of you had been screaming at one another in the kitchen, managing to alert the rest of the Stellaron Hunters who were present.

“Can you slow down?” You call out, though he doesn’t pause. He turns his head to address you. 

“Perhaps you should train more.”

“You’re ridiculous. If you learned how to properly tend to a stove we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Who in the right mind puts a hot pan directly into cold water?”

“I was panicking.” You mumble, not expecting him to hear it over the strong gusts of wind.

“You were panicking? I was the one who had to put the fire out while you stood there, doing nothing, yelling down my ear.”

With a displeased grunt, he slows his pace down and waits for you to reach his side. There would be no point in forming an active rivalry with someone he is forced to work with and live alongside. If life wasn’t already some form of misery, dealing with that would be the deciding factor testing whatever remains of his patience. 

Blade doesn’t hate you. He’s mostly indifferent to the people around him. There are times when he appears more distant than others, but he’s mostly pleasant company on rare occasions. 

“Would you like to walk around the pier before we head back?”

“Why?” Blade stares down at you, a lock from his bangs escaping the beanie as his head tilts.

“You like it there, don’t you?”

“Sometimes. We’ll see what time it is when we’re done.”

“You look so different like this.” Stringing the conversation along, you attempt to distract him from the previous heated scene.

“What?”

“Casual. It’s strangely off-putting.”

“Do you think I sleep in a suit?” Blade scoffed. He wasn’t offended, simply baffled by how idiotic you make yourself sound on occasion.

“I wouldn’t put it far past you.”

“Do you say the same thing to the others?”

His question was met with silence. Amused by your unspoken answer, he snickers. 

“I see how it is.” He added, returning his vision to the road ahead.

“It’s nothing personal. When I first met you, I got the impression that you were overly formal, even in your downtime.”

“That means I was doing my job right.”

“I suppose. You’re not as bad as I thought you were.” While it’s true you struggled to bond with him at first, you feel yourself becoming more comfortable by his side as days go by.

“You’re bearable.”

“I’ll take your compliment as a sign our argument is officially concluding.” Leaning over, you press your head against him before he nudges you away, a humorous huff of air exerting from his nose. 

Now in the main streets of the city, the amount of civilians and the volume of surrounding areas drastically increases. Crowds were bustling around street food stalls and vendors were flagging over customers from afar, children innocently playing in the fountains which sprayed out from the floor while their parents watched on nearby benches. 

Despite it being overwhelming, you found an odd sense of peace while being in this area. Blade kept his head low and made sure you remained close to his side. Losing you amongst the crowds would only prolong the outing for much longer than necessary. 

As you drew closer to the store you usually go to, you felt an odd amount of eyes on you. Getting glances in public was something you had grown accustomed to, but this was far more than a handful. Blade didn’t seem to notice, continuing his saunter to get things over with.

Just before you reach the storefront, the squeals of young girls echo out from behind. Footsteps rapidly charged, their words becoming registered as they inched closer.

“Is it really him?! Are you sure?!” One of them exclaims, clearly eager to grab a glance. 

“It is! It looks just like him!”

“Get your camera out!”

Storming in front of you and blocking your path is a group of youthful girls, the smiles on their faces wide as they gaze in awe at Blade who stands puzzled in front of them.

“Ah, I can’t believe it! I loved you in the new drama! May I please have your autograph?”

“You did so well! When is your next movie going to be out? We saw the film set on social media!” Another says, gawking as though he was the first man she had ever laid eyes on.

“My next movie?” Blade furrows his brows, glancing back at you with a frantic sense of horror in his eyes.

“How to Steal a Heart! The romcom!”

“Please sign my notebook! Can you write my name and a note too?”

“Give him a moment. He’s still growing used to fan interaction.” You interject the girls who were waddling closer, stretching your arm as a makeshift barrier.

“Okay, thank you, manager! You’re so lucky. I would love to have your job!”

“I have a pen if you need one!”

While they continue to gush, you pull Blade aside, his cheeks bearing a pink tinge from embarrassment. Initially, you had thought your cover had been blown. It had, but not in the way either of you were expecting.

“Are you alright?”

“Who do they think I am?” Judging by the tone, you can tell he was overwhelmed. It was sudden—you feel the pressure too.

“There’s a movie out now in cinemas with the debut of a new actor. He had quite a large social media presence which landed him the role.”

“I’d rather the guards have caught us.”

“Are you going to sign their books?”

“I’m not the person they think I am!”

“If you don’t, it’ll cause more of a scene. They’ll start to question who you are. We don’t need any more attention on us.”

“Nothing I have done could amount to me deserving this. Why does this never happen to anyone else?”

“Enough of the self-pity. This is what his signature looks like; do your best to replicate it.”

Analysing the unique features of this man’s handwriting, Blade grunts and turns back to the girls who were eagerly waiting for him. Reaching forward, he takes the pen and begins scribbling on the notebooks handed, quickly getting them out of the way. Just when he thought he was done, the girl who asked for a photo tugged him by the arm and raised her phone.

“Can we do the heart pose with our hands? I do one half and you do the other!”

“…” Blade stares at you, the nod of your head giving him the answer he needs. “Fine.”

It was a sight to see. With a few more flashes of the camera, he was finally free, the girls scurrying away when they were content with what they had forged from him. In one swift movement, he snatched you by the forearm and dragged you inside.

Speeding through the aisles, Blade gathered everything necessary and dumped it in the basket while you checked out at self-service. When all items are bagged, you make your way outside and are instantly directed on a different route. The area became quiet; you and Blade seemed to be alone on this narrow path. After a few more minutes of following the desolate road, the sparkling lights of the pier finally come into view.

“So, when can I get your autograph?” You tease, shooting him a glance as he takes his sunglasses off.

In a sudden motion, he takes your wrist and grips it firmly in his gloved hand. Using the tip of his index finger, he traces the letters of his name onto your palm, invisibly engraving himself on your skin.

“I don’t believe I need any more fans this evening. We have to head back soon.” Even though he carried the same monotone voice, it seemed softer than usual. This was his time to relax after enduring an excessive amount of unnecessary stress this evening. Having you by his side wasn’t so bad after all. What would he have done without you?

[nahoney22]

Respite 🌊

🫧 Pairing: Hunter X Gender Neutral Reader

word count: 750+

Prompts: None

4,500 Follower Request

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Hunter comes home to Pabu and needs just a little reassurance from the one he loves.

Warnings: Safe for Work, Gender Neutral Reader, Comfort & Reassurance, Established Relationship, Kisses & Hugs, Short and Sweet.

Authors note: My first request for 4,500. Thank you 🩶

Divider by @plum98

You eagerly awaited your partners' return to Pabu, basking in the warm sun near the landing dock until the familiar sight of the Marauder appeared on the horizon. As the ship fully landed, you rose to your feet and made your way towards the gangplank, your anticipation tempered by the unexpected wave of tense expressions.

Addressing Wrecker, you inquired, "What's wrong?" His response—a heavy sigh and a shake of the head—was uncharacteristic, setting off a sense of unease within you.

When Hunter finally emerged, you approached him with a concerned gaze, watching as he removed his helmet to reveal a weary face. "What happened?" you asked, your heart skipping a beat at the hint of trouble.

"The mission didn't go as planned," he grumbled, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "We encountered unexpected resistance from a new local militia. It was… a close call." He sighs heavily.

"Are you all right? Is anyone injured?" you hurriedly voiced your concern, relieved when he reassured you that they were all unharmed, though clearly in need of respite.

Understanding his need for rest, you suggested, "Let's find a place to unwind then, hm?" Offering your hand, you led him to a secluded spot overlooking the serene ocean.

You sat beside Hunter in comforting silence as the sun began its descent, casting a warm, orange glow over the landscape. The tranquil moment allowed him to open up about the burdens weighing on his shoulders.

"It's been hard. Without..." Hunter's voice trailed off, the weight of his unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. You understood the depth of his loss, the absence of their fallen comrade that gnawed at him. "I should have been more prepared for this," he confessed, frustration evident in his tone.

Gently, you placed a reassuring hand over his, feeling the tension slowly ease beneath your touch. "All of you have been through a lot, Hunter. You can't let this shake you," you murmured softly, leaning your head on his shoulder as he pulled you closer, seeking solace in your presence.

He nodded, the weariness evident in his expression. "I know. I'm just so tired. This whole thing with Omega, this war... I thought we were free. I thought I could be a better brother-."

"Stop," you interrupted gently, halting his self-doubt before it could consume him. "You are doing the best you can. Your brothers and Omega could not ask for anything better from you," you reassured him, though the weight of your words took a moment to sink in.

Turning to you, Hunter searched your face for a moment, his expression softened by gratitude. "You really have a way with words."

You raised an amused brow, a faint smile playing on your lips. "I hope that isn't sarcasm, Mister."

He chuckled, intertwining his fingers with yours and bringing your knuckles to his lips, planting a gentle kiss upon them. "Not at all," he replied before leaning in, stealing a lingering kiss. "Thank you. For everything you do."

You smiled against his lips before resting your head against his, a hand coming up to rake your fingers through your hair. “I have an idea,” you started, leaning back slightly to gauge his reaction.

“And what’s that?” he asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

“How about I go speak to Shep and see if he has an apartment available for us to stay in for the night?” you suggest, your eyes bright with anticipation.

Hunter furrows his brow in thought. “What's wrong with staying on the ship?”

“Nothing,” you reply with a warm smile, “I just think that maybe I could make us a nice meal, run you a bath, or we could just chill. Take some time off together?”

Suddenly, a genuine smile breaks out onto Hunter’s lips, the tensions he previously carried visibly melting away at the prospect of a peaceful evening. This is exactly what he needed.

“I’d love to… but what about the others?”

“They are more than welcome to join us, Hunter,” you assure him, your voice laced with affection. “I’m sure Wrecker would appreciate a homemade meal again, even though Pabu has fed him pretty well.”

Hunter's shoulders relax as he takes you up on your offer, the weight of the day already feeling lighter. That evening, surrounded by the comforts of a cozy apartment, all the troubles seem to fade away. With lots of cuddles and sweet loving kisses, as long as he had you by his side, Hunter knew you would always make him feel better.

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[initial-lime]

Eeeeeeee again thank you SO much, she’s so adorable in your style (: the sky background is so neat also

A little Drawing of @initial-lime ‘s oc, Dog Water!