#i think there's a sense of 'if it ain't broke don't fix it' but it is broke though! tumblr is unsustainable and they gotta do stuff to make

[coquelicoq]

i just saw someone say that "the vast majority of the userbase is complaining" about tumblr's recent layout change. i see this a lot after a change: people complaining about it (sometimes without saying what about it is bad, making it sound like either it's self-evident (it usually is not) or just that it's bad because it's change and change is always bad) and saying that everyone else is complaining about it too. i don't know how to tell you this but a) you don't follow every user on tumblr so how can you possibly know what "everyone" or "the majority of users" thinks about anything and b) ONLY THE PEOPLE WHO FEEL VERY STRONGLY ARE TALKING ABOUT IT!! people who are not bothered are not spending time posting about how unbothered they are! please look up "selection bias" and stop making me read this nonsense with my own eyeballs.

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (2/?)

Part summary: Leigh goes on a double date with Jules. You reach a tipping point with Leigh's relentless hostility towards you.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5,072 | Warnings/Tags: None for now... smut eventually, enemies to lovers A/N: So... this turned into more than a two-shot. But it will still be a mini-series. It's also kinda slow burn for a mini series (lol). Also, this isn't canon compliant at all. Meaning, I took a lot of liberties and added stuff to Leigh and Matt's relationship, and it doesn't follow the timeline of the show. With that said, enjoy!

Masterlist | Part I | Next Part

-

The vet bills hit Leigh's bank account way harder than she’s willing to admit. 

She knew taking care of pets could get pricey, but she thought that was just for those on their last leg, like Matt's dog, Rogue. Facing those steep costs made her think twice about turning down Drew's offer a while back to bring back her advice column. So, she calls him up as soon as she pays up a quarter of the charges on her credit card for Visitor's medical expenses.

Drew answers on the second ring. “Hey Leigh, what's up?”

Leigh doesn’t beat around the bush. She never has to with her best friend. “Can we meet at the cafe? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Be there in 20,” Drew replies right away.

The coffee shop they frequent is a small local business that specializes in cold brews. Leigh’s favorite thing about it is not the coffee though, but its interior: mismatched chairs, bookshelves lining the wall, and the temperature that’s always just right. Leigh arrives first, securing their favorite table near the window. Drew walks in a few minutes later, coffee already in hand, and greets her with a warm smile.

“Okay, spill. What's going on?” Drew asks as he takes a seat.

“I've been thinking... about the column. I was wrong to turn it down. I want back in.”

The look of utter surprise on his face tells Leigh this was the last thing he expected. She senses his response won't be a straightforward yes.

“I'd be thrilled to have you back, Leigh, I really would—”

“But?” Leigh cuts in. She doesn’t need to hear a bullshit ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse. She wishes Drew would just be as direct with her as she is with him.

Drew lets out a sigh. Under different circumstances, saying no to Leigh would be as easy as declining an upsell from a McDonald's cashier. However, ever since Leigh became a widow, rejecting her feels significantly harder, even though he's well aware that Leigh values honesty over pity.

“But the thing is, the new writer’s really hitting it off with our audience. She's had a string of articles go viral lately.”

Leigh doesn’t look at all impressed by that. “Yeah, I heard.”

Personally, Drew’s not a fan of the new writer's style, and honestly, he still prefers Leigh. It would just be a hard sell if he brought this up to management. As the saying goes: if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

“Look, I still think you have a unique voice. You know I’d still take advice from you over the new girl.”

Leigh scoffs a little at that, shaking her head. Drew rolls his eyes; it’s typical of Leigh to never know how to take a compliment. He continues, “How would you feel about guest writing? Maybe for the first couple of weeks, we could find a way to incorporate your insights into a series or a special feature.”

It’s not what she hoped for, but she recognizes the olive branch for what it is.

And she’ll take it. 

“I... yeah, I think that could work, Drew. I've got a ton of new ideas, and this... this could be great,” Leigh says. “Uhm, thanks.”

Drew grins. “I thought you'd like that. Let's kick off with a couple of guest pieces, see how it goes.”

Leigh half-heartedly returns his enthusiasm just as her order of cheeseburger and affogato are served.

“Anything new with you?” Drew asks, his voice taking on that tone he reserves for the really good gossip. Knowing Drew's helping her out, Leigh figures a little life update wouldn't hurt as a form of thanks.

That update is about you. And the moment Leigh spills the beans, Drew's face lights up like a Christmas tree. But his excitement fizzles out just as fast when he figures out Leigh's got nothing scandalous to say. All she mentions is how you might've missed the mark by not doing your homework on the guy you were seeing.

“What’s your plan then?”

“Seems like everyone’s asking me that,” Leigh says flatly.

“You took your stray to her place, right? So, there must be some sort of plan. I mean, you could've gone to any other vet if you wanted to avoid her.”

“Yeah, but her clinic's location is so convenient, and I didn't want to shrink my world just for her.”

Drew hums in response. Leigh admits she’s been unusually passive with you. Normally, she'd confront issues head-on, but even almost half a year later, she still hasn’t fully processed Matt’s death, let alone his cheating. She's been trying a new tactic, almost as if by ignoring her problems, she hopes they'll fade away on their own. She seems to be betting on the idea that if she pretends long enough, maybe one day she'll wake up and find those issues have lost their grip on her. 

“I don’t know Leigh, the whole thing’s weird,” Drew says, scrunching up his face a bit.

“It’s not like I’m trying to make a friend or enemy out of her,” Leigh replies with a shrug. “I’m just using her services as a doctor, and she’s getting paid for it. That’s all there is to it.”

“Oh, so that’s why you need your old job back. She’s draining your purse,” he says, smirking as he adds, “Bitch.”

“You don’t have to call her that,” Leigh chides, though the corner of her mouth twitches in amusement. Deep down, she understands the twisted satisfaction in disliking someone without having to justify it.

“The funniest thing that can happen is if you two actually end up being friends,” Drew quips, picking up an accidental curly from Leigh’s plate.

Leigh finds that scenario hard to imagine, almost impossible. She doesn’t think she can be friends with someone Matt liked more than her.

-

Leigh is hunched over her laptop, with sheets of paper and colorful markers spread out on the table, meticulously designing missing dog posters for Visitor.

Jules, leaning against the doorframe with a mug of coffee in hand, watches Leigh for a moment before speaking up. “You know, you should've done that the second you decided to take Visitor in.”

Leigh doesn't look up from her screen. “His leg needed to be taken care of first,” she reasons.

Jules rolls her eyes, pushing off from the doorframe to come closer. “And? How did it go at the clinic?”

Leigh pauses, then lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I already told you about the tests Visitor had to go through. They said he’ll be fine.”

“I mean with the doctor, not the patient,” Jules clarifies with a smirk.

There's a beat of silence before Leigh quips, “No cat fights happened, I promise,” her eyes going back to her laptop.

“Any chance she knocked off a bit of the bill?” Jules asks, moving to sit behind Leigh to take a peek of her work. It looks like an 8th grader’s art project, but she bites back any criticisms.

“Nope.”

“Told you she’s a bitch,” Jules murmurs under her breath.

“It's not like anyone's doing charity work these days, especially not in this economy,” Leigh argues weakly.

“Yeah, right. Like she needs your money, Leigh. Veterinarians are loaded, if you didn’t know.”

“If you say so.”

Jules decides to drop the subject, and Leigh can hear her shuffling and thinking behind her.  

“Hey, there's something I've been wanting to ask you. Don't get mad, okay?”

“Prefacing like that? I'm bracing myself to be utterly scandalized,” Leigh says before smiling and sneaking a glance at Jules.

“Great, you’re cracking jokes again. That’s a good sign,” Jules deadpans but a second later, she’s smiling too. 

“Ask away,” Leigh prods.

Jules takes a deep breath, and then:

“Do you think you’re ready to meet someone new?”

Leigh suddenly stops, her fingers just hanging there above the keyboard, unsure of what to do next. What’s the protocol here? If three months is usually the cooling period after a break-up before one can start dating other people, then what's the deal when it's about a husband who's not only passed away but was also cheating? How does that work?

Before Leigh can come up with an answer, she realizes she's already saying no.

Jules groans. “Come on, it's just a double date. It'll be fun. You and me and—”

“I’m really not in the mood to meet other people, Jules.”

Jules cuts in, laying it on thick. “Leigh, seriously, when was the last time you went out and had a little fun? You're practically turning into a recluse. I won't stand by and watch my sister morph into the neighborhood's infamous dog lady.”

“Dog lady? Really?”

“I'm just saying, it's either try something new or start knitting dog sweaters for fun. Your choice.”

Jules can be a real pest sometimes; it’s an endearing quality except when they seem ready to go for each other's throats.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” Leigh rests her chin on her hand, seriously considering the invitation for a second. “I don’t know how to meet people, Jules. I stopped meeting people when I met Matt. He was my entire world, you know?”

Jules softens, throwing her arms around Leigh’s shoulders. “I know. And I wouldn't push if I didn't think it could be good for you. Plus, I promise, if it's awful, I'll personally escort you out and we can ditch them for ice cream. How's that?”

Leigh senses that Jules won't give up until she gets a yes, so she decides to concede just this time and get it over with.

“Okay, okay, you win. I'll go on your stupid double date. But if this ends in disaster, you're buying me the biggest tub of ice cream you can find,” Leigh says, shrugging her sister off her.

Jules pumps her fist in victory. “Deal! You won't regret this, Leigh. And who knows? It might actually be fun.”

-

The double date goes surprisingly smoothly, except for the occasional touches coming from her date. To be fair, they are typical for a date and are executed with respect. However, for some reason, Leigh finds herself unusually conscious of every physical contact, making her anxious to move things along and call it a night.

As they step out of the restaurant, Leigh mentally scrambles to remember her date's name. She's bracing for the goodbyes, ready to retreat into the comfort of her room, when Tommy, Jules' girlfriend, suggests they cap the night off at a new bar. It turns out Leigh's date has an investment in the place. He jumps at the suggestion, clearly eager to flaunt this detail, perhaps hoping to impress her.

He does earn a sincere, “That’s cool,” from Leigh, just before she slides into the backseat of his car. Tommy quickly calls dibs on the front seat, leaving the siblings sitting next to each other in the back.

The new bar clearly wants to be the town’s next hotspot, but it seems to be trying too hard. It's got this odd vibe where you're not sure if you should be dancing or just looking around, wondering what it really wants you to do. But Leigh agreed to this, and she won’t embarrass Jules by ditching. 

“Can I get you something to drink?”

She stiffens a bit as he draws near, the heat of Patrick's breath—Jules had reminded her of his name during the car ride—making her uncomfortably aware of how close he is. She shifts, trying to put a polite distance between them without seeming too obvious about it. “Um, just a gin and tonic, please,” she says.

She practically sighs in relief as Patrick heads off to order, her eyes darting around the bar. The 90s R&B background gets her head bopping, but all she’s thinking about is her couch and an episode of Parks and Recreation waiting for her at home. Jules and Tommy are in their own little world, giggling and looking all cozy. Leigh never thought she could feel like a third wheel on a double date.

Patrick is taking his time, and when Leigh cranes her neck to peer over the bar, she catches him striking up a conversation with a blonde. Her eyes narrow into slits as she watches, both of them obviously charmed by the other as Patrick laughs at something she said, enjoying himself in a way he hadn’t all night. 

Leigh feels a prick of irritation. Sure, she hasn’t been giving him the time of his life, but they’re still on a date. Isn’t there some unwritten rule about not flirting with other people when you're supposed to be with someone?

She waits a bit longer, hoping Patrick would remember he was supposed to be getting her a drink and come back. However, he hasn't moved an inch from his spot and is even passing Leigh's drink to the woman as they keep chatting. Leigh’s mind races. She knows she isn’t into Patrick, has been giving him nothing but the bare minimum, yet she can't shake off the feeling of being slighted. It's not like she wanted his undivided attention, but this... this just seems rude.

She catches Jules looking at her, a questioning eyebrow raised. Leigh just shrugs, not sure how to explain the jumble of feelings she's experiencing without sounding petty or jealous. 

When Patrick finally comes back with her drink, the mood has already turned sour for Leigh. She musters a polite smile, accepts the gin and tonic with a thank you, but then heads to the bar on her own without saying anything more. At this point, she's indifferent to what Patrick, Tommy, or Jules might think or say of her; she's finished playing nice for the day. 

Leigh slams her gin and tonic like it's water, the sting barely registering. She signals for another without missing a beat and strangers start sliding over drinks with cheeky grins. She toasts to nothing, to no one, letting the conversations slip away before they can get even one word out.

By drink number six—or was it seven?—everything's spinning, laughter too loud, lights too bright. Leigh’s clinging to the bar for dear life when she thinks she sees you. But as quickly as the figure appears, it's lost again, leaving her questioning her ability to handle her alcohol. Back in her college days, Leigh could hold her liquor like a champ, thanks to endless nights of partying. But now, staring down at her drink, she realizes she might've overestimated her current tolerance. The alcohol hits harder than she remembers, making her head swim more than she'd like to admit. It's been a while since she's gone this hard, and her body isn't shy about reminding her.

The worst part of it though is why, of all the faces her mind could conjure up, it's choosing yours.

Just as she tries to shake off the bizarre vision, your face appears again, this time on the dance floor, writhing in a sea of thick, sweating bodies. You're dancing closely with a man, and it’s—

It’s Matt. 

Leigh blinks rapidly, attempting to dispel the hallucination because it's impossible; Matt is dead—this can't be real. 

But the image of you and Matt refuses to go away. She continues to see the way your grind against him, the way you caress his face as you pull it further into your neck. Anger surges through her, hot and uncontrollable, and before she knows it, her last shot of tequila crashes to the floor. Before the bartender or anyone else can even figure out what's happening, Leigh storms through the crowd, pushing her way to what she believes is you and her husband, and shoves the couple hard. The moment she does it, the fog in her brain finally clears.

She saw wrong. They’re just a random couple, looking as shocked as she feels mortified.

Humiliated and more drunk than she's willing to admit, Leigh doesn't stick around to apologize. Tears start to well up as she pushes through the crowd, dodging empty faces while Jules' calls fade into the background. She shoves through the last of the mob, bursts through the doors into the night, and freedom feels just a breath away. But that breath catches, twists into a violent churn in her gut, and she can barely stagger a few desperate steps away from the entrance before her knees are on the cold pavement, and she’s spilling out onto the ground in front of her. A few groans of disgusts from the people around her doesn’t register as she succumbs to the consequences of her indulgence. Shortly after, she remembers why she’s cut back on alcohol, apart from the fact that Matt abhors it, turns him off more than anything.

“Leigh?”

The voice is familiar, even if she’s heard it only a few times. Her head's spinning as she looks up, the chilly air slapping her face after the stuffiness of the club. She blinks, trying to clear the blur of tears and the aftereffects of one too many drinks, squinting at the figure stepping out from under the streetlights.

Your face, more clearly now under the lamp post is kind of sobering her up a bit.

So, were you actually there in the club, or is Leigh so haunted by thoughts of you and Matt—thoughts she's tried so hard to ignore and bury—that she managed to conjure you as a way to finally confront her true feelings about the entire situation? It’s always the battles with herself she never wins.

“Hey, you alright?” you ask, lowering yourself to get a better look at her but keeping back a bit—just enough space for her to catch her breath or in case she needs to throw up again.

Leigh doesn't respond, doesn't even seem to see you're there. You rummage through your crossbody bag, pulling out some wet wipes and offering them to her. She still doesn't look up, but grabs what you’re offering with a little force. 

She proceeds to wipe her mouth and then her entire face as you continue talking, words tumbling out in a nervous stream.

“I saw you back there, in the club. I wasn't sure if I should come up to you, you know, with everything that's happened... with me being... well, the person I am in all of this,” you explain softly. “And then I saw what happened, how upset you got. Sorry I followed you here, I…I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Leigh abruptly gets to her feet, and you instinctively step back, giving her more room than probably needed.

“Why?” Leigh fires at you, her tone so icy it almost makes you regret coming after her. You're taken aback, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion. 

Why what?

“Why do you even care?” she clarifies, eyeing you as if you're the densest person on the planet.

You grasp for something, anything that sounds like you're not just here out of guilt. “Anyone who knows you would be worried,” you say before you can think twice about what it could mean.

Leigh's laugh is sharp, cutting. “You don't know me,” she throws back.

“Yeah, I don’t,” you mumble to yourself. You wish you did, so you could fix this.

Leigh’s anger doesn’t let up. “You know what I think? You're playing the good Samaritan to scrub off your guilt. But not knowing Matt was married? That's on you. I bet you never asked too many questions because you wanted him to be Mr. Perfect—single, ready to mingle, the dream guy.”

Opening your mouth to argue, you find yourself at a loss. Leigh’s not entirely wrong. With Matt, you were in a bubble, caught up in the thrill of meeting someone who seemed so right, so honest. You clung to his every word, wanting to believe in this image of him you'd built up. 

The truth is, you never wanted to meet Leigh Shaw; you wanted to believe Matt's only fault was how he ended things with you, by disappearing.

But before you can admit to all of that, Leigh is already storming off. You think about chasing after her, but she spins around so fast at your footsteps, shooting you a threatening look and a low, “Stop following me,” that nails you to the ground. 

You keep staring at the spot she disappeared from, long after she's gone, wondering why Matt felt the need to find love elsewhere.

-

Leigh goes home, but not to an empty house. The second she opens the door, Visitor bounds into her arms, full of wiggles and wet nose kisses. Her mom's off somewhere, doing who knows what—Leigh's stopped trying to figure out where or why. Meanwhile, her phone buzzes with a string of voicemails from Jules, but Leigh's not in the mood to dive into those just yet. She decides they can wait till morning, along with the other missed calls and unread messages from strangers, asking for more information on Visitor.

For now, she peels off her socks and pants, leaving them scattered carelessly up the stairs before passing out on her bed.

-

Visitor’s follow-up check-up rolls around way too quickly for comfort. The moment Leigh steps through the clinic door with the dog in tow, you can practically cut the tension with a knife. Leigh's trying to keep it together, but her attempts at civility are imbued with a coldness that can’t be ignored.

With only a small ‘good morning’ from you and a nod from Leigh, you start the consultation, knowing you’d be doing her a favor if you just get right to it.

“How's Visitor been eating?” you ask as you work your stethoscope. 

“He eats fine,” Leigh drawls.

You nod, jotting down a note before moving on, “And his activity levels? Any changes there?”

Leigh’s response comes laced with sarcasm. 

“Oh, he's just peachy. Running marathons every morning.”

You clear your throat, trying to rein in your mounting annoyance at her childish behavior. “I'm just trying to get a complete picture,” you say.

But Leigh's not having any of it. Her comments grow sharper, her patience thinning, and it's clear she's more interested in taking jabs at you than discussing her dog's health.

Her last sarcastic remark has you drawing the line. “Leigh, you can be upset with me all you want outside of this clinic, but I won't tolerate disrespect while I'm trying to do my job,” you say evenly. “You're welcome to find another vet if you can't keep this professional. I have every right to refuse service if this continues. It's not what I want, but I'm not about to let you treat me any less professionally.”

Leigh goes quiet, yet she keeps her eyes locked on yours, decidedly not backing down. Then, after a tense moment, she mutters a single word, “Sorry.” It's not much, but it's something, and you decide to take it and move on.

“You mentioned something about a blood sample?” Leigh says, steering the conversation back to the reason she came in, and you're all for following her lead on this.

“Yeah, we need to check if his platelets are up and his infections are down, see if the meds are doing their job,” you explain. Then, veering a bit from standard procedure, you add, “Since this is a follow-up visit, I'm going to cut the lab test price in half for you.”

The discount evidently lifts her mood. It's not a perfect truce, but it's enough to get through the examination without any more barbs.

A while later, you're back with Visitor's CBC results in hand. “The infection's gone down, but it's still borderline,” you report, showing her the numbers. “We'll need to keep him on the medication for another week. And I'm adding some multivitamins and a specific diet to his regimen.” 

You scribble down the details, then note at the bottom of the pad about the discount—not just for the lab test, but for the prescriptions too.

Leigh takes the paper, scanning the details before her eyes finally meet yours. “Thank you,” she says, her voice softer than it's been.

“You’re welcome,” you reply with a smile before going back to your notebook, looking deep in thought. 

Leigh feels like you're back to your usual, friendly self. Yet she thinks she prefers the more raw, unfiltered version of you. The version that called her out earlier. These days, she's starving for that kind of honesty. Because having her as your client can’t be all that pleasurable. She's aware of how challenging she's been, and the straightforwardness somehow makes her feel more understood, more seen.

She wishes people would stop seeing her as Leigh: the one with the dead husband.

Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “When did you start working here?”

It's a seemingly insignificant question, yet coming from Leigh, it prompts you to close your notebook and focus entirely on her.

“I—”

“Because a year ago, I remember meeting a different doctor,” Leigh adds, absentmindedly running her fingers through Visitor’s coarse hair as he sleeps on her lap.

“You’ve been here before?”

It’s a painful memory—one that still sometimes brings tears to her eyes whenever it crosses her mind. Back then, the clinic bore a different name, and she and Matt had come together to say goodbye to Rogue.

“I have when it was still called Palm Coast,” she says.

You nod, understanding the context now. “Yeah, that was before my time. I bought this clinic on a whim after spending a few years practicing in Dubai.”

While most would latch onto the tidbit about your intriguing career history, Leigh zeros in on something else entirely, asking directly, “When did Matt start coming here?”

You shift uncomfortably at her question, and Leigh immediately regrets pushing too hard. She’s about to backtrack when you halt her apologies. “It’s okay. I’m open to talking about it, just not here,” you suggest. “How about over coffee?”

Leigh hesitates, then says, “Okay, let me just text my boss that I won't be able to lead the yoga class this morning.”

“It doesn’t have to be now. Tomorrow works,” you say.

Realizing her assumption, Leigh’s cheeks color slightly. “What time?”

Now it's your turn to feel a bit awkward. “Would 7 work? It's the only time I have before the clinic opens.”

“In the morning?” Leigh says again, making sure she heard you right.

You nod sheepishly in reply. 

“Or we could maybe—”

“No, it's okay,” Leigh interrupts quickly. She's usually up before sunrise anyway; the only change would be trimming her morning run a bit. And for a one-time chat to get the answers she's after, she figures she can make such a small sacrifice.

–

“Are you sure you want to return Visitor to his real family?”

True to form, it's Jules who breaks the two-day-long sibling spat. It's usually her who tries to smooth things over with an apology, even on days when Leigh isn't exactly the easiest person to deal with. Her therapist keeps telling her not to always be the one to buckle, especially when she's the one who's been hurt, that Leigh should be the one to step up and make things right for a change. 

But here she is, reaching out first, just like always—because waiting for Leigh to make the first move feels like waiting for snow in July.

“Oh, so you’re talking to me again?” Leigh says as if she's gearing up for another round of conflict rather than welcoming peace.

Jules ignores her and continues, “Have you actually tried to find Visitor's owners, or have you just kinda... kept him because it feels good to have him around?”

“So what if it feels good to have a dog who loves you and is loyal to you?”

Jules shakes her head in a condescending manner, which only serves to irritate Leigh further. As soon as her popcorn is done, she heads out of the kitchen, flops onto the couch, flips on the TV, and kicks her feet up on the coffee table. Jules follows her, opting to stand next to the TV, poised to yank the plug out if necessary.

“Leigh, you do understand that taking care of a dog isn't something to take lightly, right?” Jules starts, but she breaks off when the dog in question trots over, tail wagging, trying to coax Jules into picking him up.

Leigh acts like she hasn't heard a word, her eyes glued to the TV screen.

“I thought you'd learned something from what happened with Rogue—”

That hits a nerve. Leigh's quick to fire back, “Oh, and jumping into a serious relationship is super responsible, right? Especially when staying sober is part of the deal.”

Right after the words leave her mouth, Leigh regrets them deeply. She's painfully aware of Jules' long battle with alcoholism, a struggle that began in college and required more than a couple of tries before Jules could claim any sort of victory over her addiction. Leigh knows it's still a sore subject for Jules, still fighting her demons, making her comment unfairly harsh.

Though the retaliation didn’t come out of nowhere. Leigh caught Jules at the club, discreetly sipping a drink she swore off, and chose to keep quiet then to avoid causing a scene in front of Tommy. She had plans to bring it up later, but then her own slip-up with drinking, bailing on her date, and the fallout with Jules spiraled into one of their nastiest rows in a long while.

“Jules, I’m sorr—”

“Just save it, Leigh.”

Jules heads for the door, her hand clenched tight, barely hanging onto her emotions. Leigh feels the situation slipping further downhill, and she can't just stand back and watch things crumble even more. She's about to chase after Jules when the doorbell rings, stopping both of them cold.

But Jules doesn’t even bother with the door; instead, she veers off, storming upstairs with that telltale slam of her bedroom door echoing down. Leigh sighs, stuck in the aftermath, while Visitor starts barking at the door. Dragging her feet, Leigh heads over to open it, half-expecting another problem but hoping for a distraction.

Leigh definitely wasn't expecting Danny, and seeing him there, she gets the sinking feeling that this storm swirling around her isn’t going to blow over just yet.

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH38

Rip to these promising mages. I assume they will not survive this massacre.

IS that where her lungs and kidneys are? Because like. She's huge. Her entire body is behind her. Do you really think she'd keep her vital organs in the little human bulb on the front?

I mean, he has a point. What are you going to do? Fight off more hoardes of dragons?

oh noooo, Kabru.... too bad. That's so unfortunate.... anyway.

It's curious that Laios only got knocked away. He was just as likely to have had his head squished like a grape.

Guys, this is absolutely not the time to be concerned for her privacy.

Yes, queen. Free the tiddy. Murder everyone in this dungeon. I support women's rights and women's wrongs.

.......that's. One way to do that. I guess.

.......what's that rock about.

Oh, I see. That's convenient.

This guy dungeons! Maybe he even dragons.

So we got north (tallmen? dwarves?) and then the easterners.... and now the elves of the west?

He's going to give her to the Americans?! ಠ_ಠ

To be fair, at least they HAD a plan. And they executed it. It's more than you did. I don't mean to point fingers but... at least they... ya know... did something.

Kabru's like 'no, no, hang on, I need to hear what batshit fucked up thing this dude is going to say next, this is important'

Laios is so stressed he broke character.

Then again, maybe it's healthy to let them slug it out a bit. Get it out of their system.

It's true. They wore fitbits and everything.

...hey, hold on a second.

Now hold on a minute.

Damn, this is. Kind of even worse because. I guess I could have guessed that Toshi was just pretending to be polite, like you do. Cultural differences.

But the painful thing is, Laios doesn't seem surprised. He just seems resigned. He's been told before that he's difficult to get along with. To the extent that he doesn't even consider Marcille and Chillchuck his friends? Even though they arguably both care about him? But because Toshiro didn't bother to be deadpan about him being a bit odd at times, Laios thought it meant that was fine.

And that kinda hurts. Like damn. Laios just wanted to make a true connection. And I can't really blame Toshiro either, he was just trying to keep the peace but. Damn.

Free her! Let her do her illegal magics! She deserves it! （︶^︶）

Thoughts:

Senshi just being annoyed about that one last harpy looking for scraps.... like "shoo, this ain't the time"

That gnome seems genuinely nice. I'm sorry Falin squished his pet undyne.

Kabru hugging his..... mage? Girlfriend???? Seems very...one sided. Kinda feel bad for her.

Laios and Toshiro still going at it, I see. Get it allout, boys.

Uhhhhhhhhhh ninja girls.

Aww, doggo.

Last question: Where did the cat go?

Senshi: I can fix that.

Are you all worried because he's finally making sense?!?!

Laios and he punched their singular braincells into several new ones, it seems.

F./....Falin... please give the caterpillar some privacy........

My man, maybe lead with that............

I can't believe Marcille was potentially more forward about her feelings.......

"his pupils are dilated" yes, thank you sherlock. You've finally realized what everyone else who meets Laios feels almost immediately. he's a monster freak club card carrying member. Welcome.

p.....pubby......

As long as he was also inside the dungeon with them.... yes.

The issue with Kabru isn't that he isn't trying his best. It's that Laios isn't trying at all.

On a scale of one to Kabru, how badly do you react to being offered a food you don't want to eat?

......oh no. He's so pathetic it's funny. He's growing on me.

Absolute morons, the pair of them. Immovable object meets unstoppable force. The funniest combination ever. Ghost type and normal type pokemon, forever throwing moves at each other that will never hit. Laios thinking he's made a friend. Kabru just barely stopping himself from killing Laios. Best comedy pair. Tom and Jerry in a can.

Anyway. What a great manga.

[imnameimswrld]

ⵌ ׄ ۪ 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐘 ⁰⁰ ׄ ⑅ CS ‌˖ ֺ ᰮ

—  DESCRIPTION   ੭ in which, choi san goes from "that one shirtless guy" at coachella to a father of a whole ass formula 1 fandom.

—  PAIRING   ੭ haas!driver x choi san.

—  FILE   ੭ social media au.

—  WARNINGS   ੭ language.

—  SERIES   ੭ "WAIT...THEY MAKE SENSE !?" .

❪ main masterlist | kpop masterlist | f1 masterlist ❫

━━━━━━━━━━❪ 🖤 ❫━━━━━━━━━━

ynusername added to their story ! • 1hr

seen by landonorris, lewishamilton, and 2 223 233 others

landonorris replied to your story !

not u going to THE festival without ME.

and here I thought, we were friends.

mf, I TOLD YOU I WAS GOING.

you just don't utilize those two things on either side of your head.

dumbass.

😧😔, I see.

ynusername

liked by charles_leclerc, sabrinacarpenter, and 2 424 243 others

ynusername what a weekend omfg, THANK YOU COACHELLA !!

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user1 now wait just one damned minute...ain't that seonghwa and san in slide 7 ???

↳ user2 ayo since when does mother hang with ATEEZ ?? SPILL THE TEA MOTHER.

user3 yn's a atiny AND a fearnot !? my worlds are colliding holy shit.

user4 WHO IS THAT MAN MOTHER

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ateez_official_ added to their story ! • 1hr

seen by ynusername, howtodraw.cs, and 1 232 333 others

MY VV GIRL 🏎❤

sooo

when were u gonna tell me we broke up ?

MOUNTAIN CAT ⛰🐈‍⬛

i almost fucking stormed into that office and put my manager in a chokehold

if hwa hyung hadn't stopped me, I'd be sending this from a jail cell.

I will fix this, yn

MY VV GIRL 🏎❤

hey, honey, it's okay

don't do something that'll get you into trouble please.

MOUNTAIN CAT ⛰🐈‍⬛

no baby, it's not okay, and I'm going to make this right.

I'm not going to let the company flat out lie and let people think you're free and for the taking.

MY VV GIRL 🏎❤

possessive, are we ?

MOUNTAIN CAT ⛰🐈‍⬛

you know damn well I am.

MY VV GIRL 🏎❤

and I love it 😍😍

MOUNTAIN CAT ⛰ 🐈‍⬛

I gotta go baby, my flight is leaving

I love you ! ❤

MY VV GIRL 🏎 ❤

love you to- wait.

what flight ?

babe ?

CHOI SAN.

WHAT FLIGHT.

ynusername

liked by kevinmagnussen, howtodraw.cs, and 2 334 343 others

ynusername still cannot believe it... p1 in China !? FUCK YEAH BABY.

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haasf1team L/N 🔛🔝

kevinmagnussen very well deserved yn, congrats ! 👏

↳ ynusername thank u sm kmag 🥺

user1 just to be clear...WE ALL FUCKING SAW SAN IN THE HAAS PADDOCK RIGHT !?

↳ user2 girl, the camera literally panned in on him and the screen said "San Choi, K-POP Idol & PARTNER OF L/N" 😃😃

↳ user3 so clearly san did NOT approve of the statement kq put out lol

user4 YNSAN IS MF REAL BITCHES 🤩🤩

user5 the proud smile san had on his face as he looked up at her on the podium, I AM CRYING MYSELF TO SLEEP TONIGHT.

user6 he really went from "that one shirtless guy" to father.

ynusername

liked by lewishamilton, zhouguanyu24, and 2 434 990 others

ynusername some down time in seoul is where it's at

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user1 they fr said "fuck you kq" and as they should.

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[mywritingonlyfans]

hi, i like the last one xx could you do one with cillian where she briefly feels insecure about being with him, maybe because of her age, and he fucks her into safe space. thanks xx

it's not big but i hope you liked it! (it's smut; fem oral, riding and some missionary, but it's comfy and goofy). 3K words.

...

Yours. // Cillian Murphy X Reader! (Smut)

You appeared distant, your gaze unfocused, but it was evident that your unease had nothing to do with sadness caused by him. Silence filled the car, a departure from the usual comfort it provided between you. Your eyes were fixed on the road, avoiding his, a shift that had taken place sometime before leaving the party. As he drove, he lightly brushed his fingers over your knees, his touch gentle, leaving his hand there for reassurance once he realized that you weren't feeling unwell because of him. Your delicate hand touched his, fingers playfully interlocking, and you found solace in that simple contact. He found himself smiling gently at the gesture.

"Do you want to talk, doll?" he inquired, acknowledging your discomfort. You shook your head, still displaying signs of a troubled mind. He respected your response, considering revisiting the topic at a later time. It was intriguing to think that even with his eyes half-closed and his fists clenched, he could sense that something was amiss with you. He disliked seeing you worried, getting a sight of you like that did that to him.

Upon arriving home, things unfolded as usual. He shed his blazer as you removed your coat, and in the midst of heavy breaths, he embraced you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His arms wrapped around you with tenderness before you pulled back slightly. No words were exchanged, but he stood there with you. Persistent tears welled in your eyes, emotions too strong to contain. You had hoped to avoid this; thinking that you would just sleep with him intertwined the way you loved, and by morning, everything would be clear. However, you now felt that you couldn't do that, you needed his extra warmth to help this pass, even if you wished it could just pass on its own.

In your mind, avoiding moments like this would possibly make you seem more mature in his eyes. But all he really wanted was for you to feel comfortable enough with him, that any of your concerns could be shared with him. After all, he loved you, and it was only fair that you’d both be a safe space for each other. Cupping your face, he carefully kissed you, and you responded with slow, pleasurable movements, allowing him to guide you through it. Gradually, he kissed away your tears, until a soft smile broke through your silent tears. You embraced him, seeking solace in his chest, finding his embrace unlike any other. He kissed the top of your head in silence, waiting until you let go calmly.

"I feel so silly," you whispered, wiping your cheeks with your hands and allowing his eyes to comfort you. In truth, he held no judgment in those eyes.

"You're not," he said, his voice strong yet comforting. It could whisk away your worries and clear your mind. "If it's bugging you, then it ain't silly," he added, his hands resting easy on your waist, fingers pressing gently. He motioned for you to settle on his lap as he made himself comfy on the couch near the entrance. A soft chuckle slipped from you, and his gaze locked onto yours. This time, the silence felt easygoing, and you held his eye until you felt like talking. He had a knack for calming you down.

"I'm kinda feeling a hint of jealousy, not a big deal, but it's niggling at me. But I want you to know it's not 'cause I don't trust you. That ain't it," you explained. Your body was rigid and your hands cold. He nodded, giving you space to keep going if you wanted. A shiver trickled down your spine as you held him closer, the hug cozy, every inch of his frame against yours. You could feel the warmth of his chest as he responded with a comforting sigh. Despite the run-in with that woman who'd tried to get his attention earlier, he hadn't even hesitated to brush her off. By now, he'd forgotten what her face looked like.

"I'm all yours," his words felt like a lullaby, urging you to nestle into the crook of his neck, his scent enveloping you as he molded himself around you. The way he said it, so sure and free of doubt, soothed you. You held on tighter, your legs wrapping around his waist as he chuckled softly and shifted to make sure you were comfy. Slowly, his hands started to wander over your dress. Even though it was kinda sensual, his touch and the way he looked at you were more about admiration than anything else.

"I get that," you giggled, your cheeks turning a bit hot as you admitted it. You knew he'd never given you reason to doubt. He nodded and his fingers brushed your chin, his blue eyes tracing every feature on your face. "I'm having trouble wrapping my head ‘round it, babe," a tiny wrinkle formed between his brows, showing his confusion. A gentle kiss from you smoothed it out.

"She was pretty attractive, and she's your age," you sighed, your words getting caught in your throat. "I get you don't really care about that stuff, ‘bout her, but you can't always predict who you might fall for, you know? And it scares me that it could happen, even if I can't explain why it’s bothering me so much right now..." He listened close, catching some of it, and he felt grateful you were sharing your feelings with him, even with you worrying over nothing. But he couldn't lie that he had his own fears about losing you and he'd circled around these thoughts sometimes too. Seeing you upset tugged at his heart.

"I love hearing what's on your mind," his warm hands traveled up your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze as he pulled them closer. He wanted you to feel heard. You nibbled your lip, a tingling creeping up your face. He chuckled, like you both knew where this was heading. "I think you're perfect, this dress makes you even more stunning, and I love how confident you get when you're with me. And I love how you look at me," his cheeks and nose had a cute flush. His voice dropped low, like it was meant for you only, and you laughed with your eyes at him.

It was good to watch because most of all, he was still shy, and it was remarkable, but he wanted to see you well.

"Do you ever think you might fall for someone else?" His question had you shaking your head right away. You couldn't imagine finding anyone even close to him, or even having room to think about it. "I know I couldn't. I'm so caught up thinking about you, there's no space for anyone else. And I love that," you nodded, his words resonating deep inside. As you brought his lips to yours, you relished the surprised sigh that escaped him. Although the kiss ended softly, he held your face firmly, his earlier intention still clear in his mind since leaving the house.

"You're my girl," he affirmed, brows serious and jaw clenched. Your blood was already pumping through your veins at that declaration. Your fingers found the first buttons of his shirt, undoing them coolly and freeing a bit of his bare skin while his words echoed in your head, his gaze intently fixed on you. Your hands slipped inside his shirt, and he relaxed as he felt you trail your touch from his chest hair to his shoulders. "Can I unbutton all of them?" you asked sweetly, anticipation lacing your voice. God, he wanted to show you right there that there'd never be anyone for him but you. He nodded, your trembling fingers undoing the last few buttons. It was cute how you got a bit flustered in these initial moments, as if you'd never been in them before. He could never get much of that.

"I sorta need you," your breath hitched, and he chuckled, understanding. "I can feel it, little one," he took your hand in his and kissed it, then you traced the sharp line of his cheekbone and ran your thumb over his freckles. He closed his eyes, and you found yourself melting into his embrace, adoring the more pronounced lines of his expressions, the way they smiled and relaxed along with him, making it clear that he didn't regulate his age with yours. But it was lovely. He was so attractive, in a way that was hard to keep up with when he was this close. You brushed his hair away from his face and touched your lips to his forehead, placing kisses along his nose, cheeks and down his neck, and over his shoulders until you found your way to his chest. Your body was restless, and while you might not have recognized it, he could feel the heat building beneath you. He let out a low grunt, spreading out across the seat as you wriggled on top of him, peppering him with kisses and playful bites.

"I think I should show you just how much you're my girl, don't you think?" His voice was firm, sending shivers to your soul. His hands were thicker, more striking than yours, and you couldn't help but notice the contrast. He motioned for you to stand in front of him, and you obliged. Things moved in their own time, but in your perspective, everything seemed to slow down, your stomach churning with anticipation.

"I don't want any bad thoughts lingering in your head, not even the most fleeting ones, got it?" Still seated, he lifted the hem of your dress, placing wet kisses on your thighs until he reached your lower belly. His nose nuzzled into your skin, so gentle it made you feel slightly guilty for being this desperate. Cillian chuckled as he observed how readily you lifted the fabric to give him better access, and with his eyes on you, he trailed his fingertips along your pulsating nerve, seemingly begging for his touch. You pulled back a little, but he shook his head. "Don't move, little one," he anchored your hip with a firm grip, his fingers circling the area, your body involuntarily pressing into his touch for more. He let out a deep, drawn-out sigh as he felt you make his tips lightly sticky through the thin fabric. His throat tightened as his temples throbbed, his body yearning to feel you melt under his mouth as you always did so wonderfully.

Without dragging it out for too long, as he knew he wouldn't be able to bear it for much time, he delicately interlocked his fingers with the hems and pulled them down. His lips moistened as he saw the lace peel off you with some difficulty due to how damp it was. And sure, there was indeed a wet patch on your panties. For balance, you grasped his shoulders, squeezing eagerly with a pleading gaze, and he shut his, kissing the area, his mouth watering and devoid of prior thoughts. He held you firmly in place and licked from the center up, gathering your essence on his tongue, his eyes closing in pure pleasure at being able to feel you. Yours clenched shut, and your mouth fell open as you experienced the warm sensation and perfect pressure of how he sucked you, as if it truly granted him as much bliss as it did for you.

You gently grasped the back of his head, urging him closer, and you could sense him smiling as you struggled to remain composed for him. As you caressed his soft hair, he nuzzled the tip of his nose against your clit before sucking it between his lips, causing you to moan so wantonly. He was already a mess, lost in your scent and taste enveloping him, while you panted breathlessly. When you opened your eyes and saw his hair, those delicate tresses, both ash and dark intertwined in a chaotic dance, you became a bit more alert, tugging on the strands to have him look at you. He deserved your attention that night too; you didn't want this to go unnoticed.

With his eyes locked onto yours, your body still trembling, you found your words stuck in your throat. He was just as desperate as you, though he concealed it well. The snug trousers he wore due to his position, and the zipper left open, which you only noticed now, made you wonder how uncomfortable he was. "Can I ride you, babe?" Your voice was soft yet mesmerizing to him. He appreciated how you always asked, an act so delicate for such a moment, but it had become characteristic, and he would certainly miss it if you changed.

"I want to be good for you," you whispered, and he couldn't deny that even if he tried as he shed the layers of fabric that held your disapproval. He marveled at how flustered and nervous you sounded, unable to control both your mind and your senses at the same time. And in a matter of seconds, you were on his lap once again, your head nestled on his shoulder as he kissed your neck and face, and you began to grind against him, your touches growing more fervent.

As he burned against your skin, he lifted you, albeit clumsily, hoisting up your dress and letting you settle onto him with a prolonged groan, your needy hands clinging to his arm. You held onto him, your muscles quivering as you gazed into his calm eyes, his expression relaxed as you took your time to adjust to him. You were sore and wet, feeling him all over you, full and comfortable, even if not fully stretched due to your eagerness. But every second was worth it.

You worked your way onto him, lifting yourself slightly and settling back down, taking him all into you. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky and accentuated, filling you up completely. “Aren’t you, doll?”

His words took effect on you, and his gaze held the purest contentment as he watched you stumble through forming responses, not that he needed them. His movements were slow, letting you take the lead. Your lips were slightly parted, legs tightly wrapped around him. In fact, you were only holding yourself together because he was supporting you. The straps of your dress slipped to the side, gracefully as if watching a painting dry. Assisting you, he squeezed your thighs, using his thumb to press between your legs, exerting pressure on your clit. Your body immediately responded to the extra stimulus, and you collapsed onto him with a slight moan.

"It's okay, pretty girl, I've got you," he whispered amidst more persistent sighs, his hands gaining a rhythm against your hips, making your body more relaxed and ready to accommodate him. You rubbed yourself on him just beautifully. His lips grazed your collarbone, wet kisses and nips tracing over your exposed skin. He lowered the straps further, your breasts on display for him, in a gentle sway prompted by you. He took one in his mouth, your nails grazing him, marks he knew would be left, but he relished in it. He sucked on the flesh, releasing it with a wet sound before giving the same attention to the other, fingertips skimming over the erect nipple and then warm tongue soothing you through it all. Your hands tangled in his hair, a sound escaping him as he rested his forehead against yours, leaving you even more soaked. Your legs grew sluggish, and you found yourself grinding against him more than riding, a detail he didn't miss. He lifted with you briefly, and soon you were lying on your back, him atop you. His face was still close, breath mixing with yours in the warm space between you. You clung to his shirt collar firmly, both for control and to keep him close, and he chuckled. "Please, I'm aching, Cill," your vision blurred as tears formed, your body trembling without any movement from him. He trailed the tip of his nose across yours, his hair falling onto your face, which you brushed aside to kiss him better. You hugged him tight, curling into his chest, and gradually, air filled your lungs as your body was brought up and down with his.

"You're being so good to me. Look at what you do to me, fuck. How could you even think you're not just mine, and only mine alone?" His voice was disoriented, husky and staggered, clearly needing to focus intently to sound coherent. And then his gaze locked onto you, eagerly waiting to take in every last bit of it. He was gentle, even in his urgency, and you loved that he knew your body so well that you didn't have to tell him what you needed; he was exactly what you needed. With him deep inside you, feeling your senses growing restless, he braced his hands above your head, applying more pressure, your eyes closing as he held you close. The tears running down your cheeks that would soon be kissed clean. He loved to watch it. He whispered soothingly for you to calm down, sweet nothings while he thrust you through that sensation until your mind was filled with his rough, broken moans as he peaked along with you. His body collapsed onto yours, the weight becoming comfortable, his fingers tracing lines among the scattered freckles on his back, and he didn't fail to kiss your exposed skin. "I love you," you said, breathless, his hand affectionately running over you. You were right; you'd fall asleep next to him, entwined, and wake up with a clearer mind. You could already imagine waking up in his shirt, going to sit on his lap while he wore his glasses and had a book ready to be put aside for your more important presence. No one else could bring you the comfort he did. He settled beside you, both your breaths gradually returning to normal, and just before his lips brushed yours in a smile, he whispered in his lazy voice, "I love you, and I'm yours, only yours, my girl."

[drvscarlett]

THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

Pierre Gasly x ex!reader

Summary: The 4 times that they break up and get back together and that 1 time they didn't.

The Tortured Drivers' Department series

A/N: im on a roll with updating the Tortured Drivers Department now that im nearly done with every reqs. I hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think or feel about this

Taglist. @tea-bobba @boiohboii @c-losur3 @haikyuen @stelena-klayley @stinkyjax @0710khj @jinimon-tr

"You're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're modern idiots"

Pierre and Y/N are the type of people that is confusing to talk about. No one really knows the big deal between the two of them, are they friends or are they lovers? One minute everything is all good, they are about to go to the store and pick out rings then the next thing that you know they already broke up. What was constant was that they always find their way back to each other.

Maybe it’s the lifestyle that makes it work; Pierre is a famous F1 driver that travels the world most of the year while Y/N is a grand recluse of a writer that is trying to find her way to the market. They don’t need much time from each other, and they understand the busy structure of their work.

Maybe its also the fact that they have years of friendship backing them up that's why they were able to last long with each others antics. So, what happened to them?

I.

The first kind of break ups were pretty silly. It was usually something that could be fixed in a matter of hours or a day being away from each other. Its something very random and weird like this.

"Wait, so you are breaking up with me because you are writing?"Pierre was confused.

Pierre had been in relationships before but he has never once heard of someone wanting to break up with him because she has to meet a certain deadline.

He felt very whiplash by the whole situation because she was just kissing him and they were cuddling in bed in the morning. Now she wants to break up with him.

"Yes Pierre, I need to be in my most heartbroken self to write my best lines"Y/N confirms.

"So does this mean that once you finish this thing you are working on then we can get back together?"Pierre clarifies.

Y/N nods as she brings out her working laptop and a notebook.

"So should I say something mean or should I just leave you be to your senses?"Pierre wondered.

"Do you really wanna break up with me so badly?"Y/N had too much of Pierre's question

Pierre raised his hands in defeat.

"Okay then lets break up"

Pierre headed straight back to his room to allow Y/N to work on her things. He chuckles at himself with the weird antics of his girlfriend, (or should he say ex girlfriend) but he busies himself with some emails that he has from work.

It took Y/N two days before she comes crawling to their shared bed. Pierre was in a sleepy state when Y/N snuggled to his arms.

"Are you done?"Pierre wondered.

"Yeah,just passed my manuscript"Y/N agrees.

"Can I call you my girlfriend again?"

II.

Qualifying was extremely difficult today with Pierre taking p15. To make matters worse there was this pressing issue that Pierre might be axed from the team. It honestly frustrated him to the point that he was only doing sim work, training, and more training.

It worries Y/N a great deal especially when Pierre seems so out of it.

"Pierre c'mon get some rest" Y/N begged.

It was already 2 in the morning and there was still a race tomorrow but he insisted on hitting the gyms to train.

"You are going to be exhausted later during the race if you keep doing this"Y/N reminds.

"I don't care, I have to work hard"

"Pierre please listen to me"

"You're the one who is not listening to me"Pierre snaps "Don't you realize that I have the possibility to lose everything that I have worked hard for if they cut me off the team."

Y/N was in shock with the sudden outburst and if Pierre was in his usual self then he would have immediately apologized for raising his tone. But Pierre was far from thinking clearly.

"Pierre that was not nice"

"Nothing is ever nice in this world"scoffs Pierre.

"Look I'm just trying to help you he-"

"You know what, why not just break up with me so I can focus on my thing without anyone nagging" Pierre suggested.

She could feel the tears prickling her eyes and threatening to fall. But her mother did not raise her cry over a stupid boy like this.

"You're really going there huh" Y/N said "See if I care"

With a slam of the door, Y/N was gone and Pierre felt even more antsy than ever. It wasn't the fact that he has a messed up weekend but he has the possibility of messing up a good relationship because of his blind rage.

In a couple of hours despite Y/N implying that she didn't care, she was at the race patiently waiting for the lights to go out. It was difficult for her to just leave Pierre especially when he is in this state of mind.

But of course, Y/N's pride was something that she holds dear that is why she didn't show up to Pierre's garage. It is kind of weird to see the crowd of yellow and black colors but Y/N was so glad that she has Isa by her side to join her during the race.

"Never gets easier to let him go for races huh"Y/N comments as she watched Isa putting on Carlos' helmet.

"Well, I'm sure he tries his best to be careful on the track" Isa smiled.

"Why aren't you giving any pre-race goodluck kisses to Pierre? He might need it" Carlos suggested.

Y/N could just roll her eyes, Pierre wasn't superstitious like that.

"Okay laugh all you want but don't make me say I told you so if he gets involved in an accident"Carlos warns.

"Don't mind Carlos, he is just joking"Isa shrugs it off.

"But Isa, its true remember when-"

"Stop stressing Y/N out Carlos, go race and be safe"

"Aye aye"

Y/N watched the playful interaction before the couple parted ways. The scene struck a chord in her heart because she knew that she could never act that way with Pierre. Their whole relationship was a secret that only the grid knows Y/N is off limits. But outside the grid, no one knows about it. Fans equate them as close friends but never more than that.

"What's on your mind honey?"Isa asked

"Nothing Isa, I'm okay"

Y/N showed a weak smile and Isa was hesitant to press things but she just let friend be.

"Look the race is starting"Y/N diverts.

The sound of the engines filled the air and off the cars go. Y/N watched as everyone gets off with a decent start, she could only hope that there was no incident today especially for Pierre's sake.

Everything happened all of a sudden as white smoke filled the air and a loud collision was heard. The cameras were quick to pan to the accident and the two girls clutched each other's hands as the smoke clears.

"It's Nico, its not Carlos" someone from the garage reassured Isa and the girl could feel a sigh of relief.

However, the same cannot be said to Y/N as the frustrated team radio of Pierre can be heard and the familiar livery was seen in the middle of the wreck.

Any amount of pride or memory of what he said last night was suddenly thrown out of the window. She just wants to know how he is or if he is safe from that tragic collision.

"Y/N, they're going to check on Nico" Isa pointed out to some Renault people "You should probably go since Pierre would be there too"

Y/N was about to deny that she didn't want to see him but Isa had a stern look on her face.

"Just go honey"

And she comes running to the medical bay to look for the injured man. She was a bit thankful that precautions have been made in this sports that allowed drivers to walk away from such accident without major damages.

Maybe, a bruised ego is their biggest worry now.

"Y/N"Pierre was confused to see her.

Maybe the damage has been far more worse than he imagined because he was now seeing things. As far as he could recall, Y/N was not around when the race started. So how is she here?

"God, you scared me P"Y/N wrapped him in a hug.

Pierre was a little bit sore from the crash but there was this instant warm feeling knowing that Y/N didn't abandon him. Even if he was really moody and too shitty, Y/N was still there for him.

He remembers how terrible it was being in that car and thinking that the last memory he shared with Y/N is a bad one. He didn't feel great at all so he held her as if its his second chance.

"I didn't mean what I said last night"Pierre whispered "I'm really sorry for hurting your feelings. I wasn't thinking straight and there is just a lot of pressure-"

"It's okay, I know Pierre"Y/N consoles "I won't be leaving you anytime soon"

A chaste kiss was shared between the two of them, a symbol that they have reunited once more.

III.

The third time they broke up was when Pierre asked her hand for marriage and she didn't say anything.

After being constantly invited to weddings, Pierre is bound to pick up some courage to ask Y/N out. He developed this dream that he wants a life with Y/N and he is ready to take it to the next level. Knowing Y/N, he picked the right size and the perfect ring. He also knows her dream proposal place which is somewhere with a view of the city.

He had everything planned out perfectly so imagine his surprise when she answers.

"Pierre, I can't do this" Y/N dropped the bomb.

"What? Why?"

Y/N felt like an extreme asshole because everything was perfect. Any girl would say yes to this prime opportunity of marrying their childhood bestfriend but Y/N sees through things.

"Pierre we aren't even official to the public and now you want to escalate it to marriage" Y/N reasons.

"So that's it, you don't want to marry me because I can't call you mine in public?"

"It's not just that" Y/N sighs "but our careers are just taking off and we haven't talked about our relationship yet and suddenly were going to go to marriage"

What Y/N saying was valid but Pierre was not listening to any of it. He felt very crushed and he could not think straight at the moment.

"Let's just break up if you can't see a future with me"

"Pierre, you know that's not what I meant"

"Then tell me how would you feel if the person you truly loved didn't want to marry you"Pierre roared.

It was a devastating scene between the two of them. How Y/N wished that she could undo what she said a few minutes ago but she knows that she only means well. A rushed marriage will also lead to rush separation and she will not put herself to that.

"Let's break up then, I think its best if we go our seperate ways for the time being"Pierre concludes.

It took them three long weeks before they got back together. It was due to an intervention by Charles that allowed them to speak again and talk their differences. Pierre has been more understanding now and heard Y/N's point out.

They got back together but it felt like there is a huge crack that took a heavy blow with their relationship.

IV.

Y/N had a terrible day at work with her manuscript being asked to be revised by her publisher. All she needs was a good rest and possibly some cuddles with Pierre. She prays as she twist the doorknob that Pierre was not in his one of his moods.

"Mon amour"Pierre called out "I was waiting for you"

Pierre can cook but it doesn't mean that he does it often. It was a good surprise for Y/N to see the dinner table set with all of her favorite dishes and an array of fresh flowers in a bouquet. She eyes the man warily as she takes a seat

"I didn't miss any important dates, didn't I?" Y/N asked.

"Is it bad that I wanted to do something special for you?"

In other days, she would want to argue about it but for today she didn't want to do any of that. She had no energy to question Pierre's weird behavior and she just wants to enjoy the dinner with him.

It was a lovely dinner but Y/N knows that Pierre was hiding something from her. As she was putting away the plates, she knew that she had to get an answer or she may fall asleep overthinking things.

"What is going on P, I'm actually scared you did something stupid that's why you are buttering me up so much"

Pierre lets out a heavy sigh, they knew each other too well that they can't really keep a secret with each other.

"My PR talked to me today and they wanted to announce a relationship to help my whole image"Pierre confesses.

Articles are very easy to miss but as a writer, Y/N knows how a different usage of an article changes the meaning of the sentence. Pierre used "a" rather than "the" which means he is not referring to their relationship.

"Who is it?"Y/N wondered

"She's a model, her name is Caterina" Pierre explained.

There was a heavy silence in the room as Y/N dried out the dishes. She knew that this was all because she was not very marketable due to her timid personality. She was not even famous for her books so that's another reason. Bottom line, they can't announce her because she seems very different from Pierre and she is not the WAG material.

"How long?"

Y/N was used to this kind of treatment. She felt like she accepted this as long as she can get to keep Pierre at the end of this whole thing. People would think she is crazy but love makes people do crazy things.

"Just 6 months and its over"Pierre answered.

It was also very difficult for Pierre's end. He have tried to lobby that he wanted to announce his relationship with Y/N but he is held by a contract. If he decides to deviate then he might lose his seat.

He knows how difficult it was to ask her for this but he had no choice.

"I'll get packing then and I'll move out in the next few days"Y/N mumbles.

Pierre stopped her for leaving and held her tightly. She instantly melts in his hold and she easily reminds herself why she puts up with all of this.

"I love you, don't you forget that"

The world moved with Caterina being announced as Pierre's girlfriend. However, they didn't know that after 6 months then Pierre is back to Y/N's arms. It was always Y/N and Pierre even if the world can't see it.

V.

It started with a normal dinner reservation.

Y/N has been promised by Pierre that he will take her out for dinner. They both understand that the past few weeks has been tiring for the two of them with the stress of racing, writing, and personal issues. The dinner is a nice way to reconnect with each other.

However, here she was already an hour waiting for Pierre to show up.

The hour goes from two to three and by the fourth hour, she decided that she will just go home. She have felt upset with Pierre before but this was a different kind of upset. It's not something to be fixed by flowers, vacations, or any of those stupid letters he does.

She reaches their shared apartment and started packing her stuffs. Her mind was already made up and this time it was going to last. The relationship was doomed to failure anyways.

And just before she finished packing, Pierre stumbles in.

"Y/N, do you have a schedule tonight?"Pierre asked.

He was met with silence as the writer ignores him.

"Oh c'mon what did I do wrong this time?"Pierre complains "Sit and talk with me Y/N"

Pierre could only stop Y/N by bringing all her packed clothes out of her suitcase. Something that heavily irritated Y/N, which caused her to finally speak.

"Can you just let me pack in peace"Y/N begged.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong"Pierre stops "Do you have a flight somewhere? Maybe I could drive you"

"You don't have to drive me Pierre"

"Then what's going on, I arrive here and you are fuming there-"

"You made me fucking wait four hours"Y/N snapped.

Pierre racked his brains for anything that he missed and he suddenly remembered how he reserved dinner with her. He felt like all the color drained on his face.

"Don't do this, I'll make it up to you Y/N" there was a desperation in Pierre's voice.

"I can't, we can't keep doing this P"Y/N admits it "We keep on breaking up and then making up then we act like this is a healthy relationship. We can't do this"

Strong arms wrapped around Y/N's waist and she could feel the wetness on her shoulders as Pierre buried his face there. It was proving more and more difficult for Y/N to leave him.

"I have to do this P, for you and for me"she remains firm.

"Tell me you don't love me"Pierre refuses to let go.

And Y/N cannot admit that because she knows she will always love Pierre. But she was scared that in loving Pierre so much then she may not have any love left for herself. She doesn't know what to do if she loses Pierre so its best if she will be the one to let go of him first.

"I'm sorry Pierre"

With a heavy heart, she removes the him away from her. She picks up her bags and closes the door. She left without taking a look back at the man she has loved from childhood till now because she knows that the moment she sees him then all form of control she has will evaporate.

And everything was two years ago. Here is Y/N with her third best-selling novel book signing tour. Sometimes she likes to think that she lost Pierre to be able to write the books that made her extremely famous. Most of the times, she wishes it never happened because she would rather have Pierre than these best selling novels.

It was her first time in Europe for work. She was often here to watch and support Pierre from the sideline. She never thought that she will be back in Europe so loved and so adored.

But it seems like destiny has a way of messing things up.

"Hi! What's your name?"she greets the woman in front of her.

Even though it has been a long day, she managed to master the art of keeping a perfect smile. She understands how the fans have been waiting in line for so long and she has to give them the best experience as she signs their book.

"My name is Kika, I'm a huge fan of yours" the woman introduced.

Y/N looked up to take a look at her. Kika had a dazzling smile and has this certain aura that exudes her charmingness. Y/N felt that she should be the one asking for Kika's signature because she looks like a stunning goddess.

"I really love the way you write things and I used to read it with my boyfriend when he is not racing"Kika narrates.

Racing, its been a while since Y/N heard that. She completely cuts off that certain topic ever since she left Pierre.

"Oh that sounds like a fantastic way to bond as a couple"Y/N agrees

"Yeah and actually my boyfriend told me that he knows you. I was actually wondering if he is joking but I figured that maybe he is"

There was this sinking feeling in her heart but Y/N would like to think that she made some friends in the F1 grid so this may be their girlfriend. Or maybe her boyfriend is bluffing.

"He races? In what kind of race"Y/N asked,she was careful.

"Oh he does Formula 1, his name is-"

"Kika mon amour"

Y/N didn't have to hear the voice twice to know who that voice belongs to. She knows that voice very well and she couldn't believe her rotten luck.

"Pierre, we were just talking about you"Kika embraces Pierre.

Pierre was shifting nervously and Y/N suddenly realized that Kika doesn't know anything about the shared history between the two of them.

"Oh so you are Pierre's new girl" Y/N knew how to act "I'm so pleased to meet you and yes I know Pierre from childhood"

"See mon amour, I was not lying"Pierre teased.

"So you do know her, we should definitely set up a lunch or dinner together"Kika exclaimed "I can't believe that my favorite author is your childhood friend"

She has that bright and genuine smile on her face. It was that certain genuineness that Y/N makes her heart crack. Why did she have to be so sweet and kind, its so difficult to fault her of anything.

"Y/N is one of the best authors, I know" Pierre proudly states "She has a way of tugging hearts"

"Indeed she has, I remember that when I first started reading one of your series I was so hooked and I wanted to pattern my dream partner to how you write the character of.."Kika babbles.

And everything felt like fading in the background. But Y/N didn't miss how Pierre was looking at Kika so lovingly and so endearing while Kika was rambling excitedly. The heart that was once healed was getting torn up once more because of what's happening in front of her.

[cripplecharacters]

One of my characters in a fanfic is Harriet Hook, daughter of Captain Hook. I was going to have her lose her left hand in an assassination attempt, where someone tried to burn down her house with her brother and sister in it as collateral. The door was barred shut with planks of wood, and, long story short, the fastest way she could get out left her hand severely burned and lacerated, with several shattered bones. If they had access to modern medicine they might have been able to save her hand but, because there wasn't even a way for them to keep if clean until the skin healed, the best they could really do was just amputate it. Like her father she replaced her hand with a hook (having one hand and no hook would make being a pirate kind of difficult,) and then she went from there. I just have a few questions.

Is it reasonable for her to be more angry about the assassination attempt than upset about her hand? Her father has been getting around fine with his hook for her entire life and he raised all three of them with either one hand or a hand and a hook, so she knows it's not the end of the world and that she has a good source on how to adapt to it. She's just more pissed that someone tried to burn her alive.

She later becomes a queen after the war (the war is why someone tried to assassinate her, because she's leading an uprising.) Would it make sense for her to either keep the hook or just go without rather than get a fancier prosthetic? She'll have the option but she already knows how to adapt to life with hook or with just one hand, but a fancy prosthetic, she's never seen anyone with those so it would be uncharted territory and I was thinking she'd prefer to just stick with what works.

Does this fall into the accident trope? I know it happened because someone was purposefully trying to kill her and she purposefully injured her hand because it was either that or let her siblings die and her children grow up without their mother, but it might still count. If so, is there a way I can make it better? I don't want to be disrespectful.

I get this is a long ask and you don't have amputee mods. Hope you all are having a great day!

Hello asker,

Making a note before my answer that we currently do not have any mods who are amputees!

So, to answer your question in parts:

Is it reasonable for her to be more angry about the assassination attempt than upset about her hand?

Yes, this makes sense. People can have a lot of complicated feelings about their disabilities, and to me it makes sense that one of her feelings about the event that caused hers is that what upsets her the most is that someone tried to kill her. Injuries do suck, but when they're caused by someone else's carelessness or malice, knowing or thinking about that can definitely be more upsetting than the injury itself. (Not that it has to be – different people will have different feelings about their respective injuries.)

Would it make sense for her to either keep the hook or just go without rather than get a fancier prosthetic?

Yes, this is definitely something many people in real life do. Here is a link to a post by cy-cyborg on why not all amputees use prosthetics, which also addresses that not all prosthetics work best for all people. In general, people like to stick with familiar things. If she has adapted to using just one hand or one hand and a hook, it makes sense that she could choose to continue doing so. "If it ain't broke don't fix it" type of situation. And as a character decision, her father's use of a hook as opposed to any other kind of prosthetic might influence her decision as well.

Does this fall into the accident trope?

When it comes to upper limb amputations that are not congenital, trauma is one of the more common reasons for them. Trauma (by which i mean physical trauma to the limb) is often accidental, so this isn't necessarily an inaccurate reason for your character to lose her hand.

So while it is an accident, I don't think that makes it automatically a disrespectful portrayal. In fact, your ask makes me think that it is a pretty respectful one. She has adapted to life with her injury and a hook is a common prosthetic even today. I think you've got some good character building blocks here!

Hope this helps,

– mod sparrow

[cybertroniannugget]

Pangea and mt Vesuvius

Not what I originally intended to post here, as I'm writing some spice at the moment but THIS is what my mind was occupied with all freaking day... The whole desaster takes place somewhere in the first movie or between 1 and two. Some details are changed up Which I did on purpose. I know all the movies from start to finish because the hyperfixations are hyperfixating real hard right now.

This is just a random story of how I get idk let's say teleported into the bayverse movies and how I'd probably handle that.

While I sprinkled in a bit more confidence than I actually got, I think it's an accurate representation of what kind of person I am: always cracking jokes, overthinking EVERYTHING, random useless knowledge that turns out to be somewhat useful.

About this fic: sfw, implied romance with OP, trans ftm character, no reader just Alex, confused Autobots they still need to learn so much about earth and everything, I also don't know okay?

This is just me struggling while simping hard for Optimus.

But we still ain't know what fucked up big M's navigation system when he crashed. Infact, why are all of our navigation systems useless here?! ", Jazz adressed, arms crossed over his chassis. "We all be getting lost all the time.

"I think I know why"

Oh please, why did I speak up just now...

All optics and eyes were fixed on me as I said that, making me immediately regret opening my mouth in the first place but here we are now.

"What? Maybe your systems think you're on Pangea.", I said, taking in the same position as Jazz by crossing my arms over my chest.

Optimus leaned closer, one servo on the railing, blue optics studying me thoroughly as to look for any signs of lie in my attitude.

"Pangea? May you elaborate?"

Hearing this deep voice so full of interest made me feel things honestly.

"The supercontinent. Wait, Imma show you."

I take out my phone, careful not to reveal the background, because I couldn't find the time to change it yet.

"Here, this is earth today. You see everything, Europe, Asia, South and North America, Autralia, Greenland and all the islands in the oceans."

"And this is Pangea, it broke apart into the continents as we know them today about 200 million years ago. This is probably what Megatron had in mind. See? When you look at a map of earth today you might think, if you turn south America around and snug it up to north America, they fit like a puzzle. It's because they were together as part of the supercontinent. Or push it up to Africa, same thing. Just squish it all together"

"That human is incredibly well educated.", Ratchet chimed in.

"That human has a name and thank you."

"But why did that happen? It makes no sense.", Ironhide complained, lifting one servo as to show his frustration in what I just said.

"If I may...", I look at Lennox, awaiting some kind of approval to continue. He nods and so I proceed with my explanation.

"Well, I don't know how to explain it scientifically, but I'll try to make it understandable."

Optimus nods, listening carefully. How do these highly educated space robots not know about that? But who am I to judge, they aren't from here so I can't expect them to know everything about earth.

"I think it probably started because of something called mantle convection. That means the heat from earth's interior rises up to the hardened crust. That caused it to break open, creating a volcanic rift zone. The cracks went further, the tectonic plates drifted apart. The rifts filled with water over time and while the plates drifted farther away, the oceans were formed. Or something like that I don't know but today we've got 6 continents."

Always undermining everything I say, great job on trying to act confident...

"And Greenland, I don't discriminate.", I added as some people eyed me.

"But I don't know if Pangea is what your systems used as the base to calculate. There were other tectonic combinations even before that, but it's a wild guess I'd say. I am certain it was one of them."

As I was explaining, Optimus' gaze changed to a warmer tone and I could feel my pulse rise to my ears. He was just so beautiful, and seeing him for the first time in person made my heart flutter uncontrollably. I wish I could tell him how I feel,

But this is real. No scenarios, no daydreaming or fanfiction. It was as real as it could get. Damn it, I wanted to shift here, not get teleported or whatever caused me to end up here with all of them. I hope we can atleast become friends. No need to get my hopes up though.

"Alexander?"

The baritone voice of the Prime pulled me out of my thoughts about him.

"Hm?"

"What kind of heat were you talking about?"

"Oh that. Well, starting at earth's core, it's liquid magma. It's really hot, like 5.200 Celsius hot. 9.000 something Fahrenheit for the Americans here..."

This was met with laughter and I continued with my lesson or whatever you might wanna call it I don't care, I'm struggling here okay?

"The further you go up, the 'cooler' it gets.", I say, underlining the word cooler with my hands in a joking matter.

"They probably got fancy scientific names but don't ask me which. Anyways shit's really hot. And it's what shoots up from volcanoes.", I finish as I look into a round of confused optics and a few tilted helms.

"Volcanoes? When tectonic plates crush against each other, or built up pressure is released, no?"

They all look at eachother, chuckling coming from my fellow humans around me.

"Okay here, that's mt vesuvius, big ass volcano."

"Sometimes these mfs shoot lava from this hole up there, pretty fascinating and scary at the same time.. It looks like this.", I add as they look at the pictures, not knowing whether to be amazed or afraid.

"The glowing stuff you see here is the lava. When it's still underneath the crust it's called magma."

"Are there many on earth?"

"Yup, don't get too close."

Optimus' optics widen at that statement of mine

"Don't worry bossbot, not on this island. The closest from here is next to Madagascar, Africa. Unless you decide to swim a few rounds up there there's no need to get worried."

The Prime relaxes, shoulders dropping while optics still focused on me.

Why is he looking at me like that? I mean I ain't complaining but if he continues like that Imma internally combust.

"You explain everything so well Alexander."

"Please, call me Alex. Alexander seems so long."

The Prime nods understandingly. "Very well then, Alex."

Oh god make it stop. I love you so much Optimus please...!

"His heart rate just shot up exponentially.", Ratchet mentioned and it was right then and there that I wanted to vanish, dissappear, sink into the ground, never to be seen again.

"Haha yeah, chronic Tachycardia, no need to worry."

That was a lie. Yes, my pulse is through the roof right now, but I've got no heart disease.

As I was met with confusion from every bot except Ratchet I explained before any questions could be asked.

"It's a general term to describe an elevated heartrate. You know, the thing in a human's chest that pumps blood through our body."

"Blood?"

"Oh come on. Okay, well then I can explain that to you guys later. And answer any questions you have as it seems no one else here cares about your education on earth and it's inhabitants.", I say grumpily, looking at Lennox, who raised his hands in defeat.

"I can see us becoming friends Alex.", Jazz laughed.

"Looking forward to it!", I said, pointing fingerguns at the silver bot, which is met with more laughter.

"Okay, class is over, what are we gonna do now?", Ironhide asks into the round of bots and humans.

I just shrug, looking at Optimus, who was still looking at me. But when I looked at him, he quickly looked away to Ironhide.

Cutie~

"Alex seems to know so much, why not ask her?."

That statement of a bystanding soldier was met with a glare from Optimus.

"Alex is a he, you better make sure to remember that!"

They went to protest, but Optimus wouldn't let them. "Unless you wish to get what humans call fired."

Oh shit he's really mad...

"I will make sure of that if you continue your unreasonable behavior."

As he said that I could swear I saw the soldier shrink right then and there infront of my own two eyes.

He looks at everyone. "This counts for everyone here. You will respect Alex."

Oh god, he's standing up for me I can't please marry me Optimus, like right now!

"Okay, lessons aside.", Epps put a hand on my shoulder, smiling. "You were great by the way. I think we can use that for good."

He looked between everyone, a stern expression replacing the warm smile, hand leaving my shoulder. "As much as of a crucial hint this is, we can't know for sure what's exactly causing the malfunction. Better dig people."

True honestly, but HOW is anyone supposed to figure it out without cutting someone open? Megs maybe...?!

"Something's on your mind again, I can see that.", Bumblebee said with snippets over the radio.

"What, me?! It's nothing."

"Nothing?!", Jazz protested. "You just gave us the best clue we could ask for. I'm no Optimus Prime but I can say that I wanna hear ya out my man."

He looks up at Optimus, who was looking at me again after listening to his lieutenant.

"I must say, that you have given us great insight on your mental capabilities Alex."

He leans closer and it took everything of the mental capabilities he just mentioned to not kiss him right here right now.

"Well uh, it's just some kind of impulsive thought. You know, the ones you can't really control...",I said nervously, one hand behind my neck, avoiding everyone's gaze.

But he didn't budge, only blinking once while awaiting an answer.

"Okay, you're not budging I see. Fine."

Taking a deep breath and regretting every life choice I had made up until that point, I went on. "Look, I don't know anything about Cybertronian culture and how things are handled. Especially this right here. Us humans, we always wanna know what exactly caused certain events. For example death here. So we came up with analyzing the body of the dead by cutting them open and stuff, it's called autopsy. Maybe, just maybe we could find something. I know Megatron ain't dead but he's in some sort of... Stasis? Someone could check his navigation system and maybe find the cause for the disruption."

I lower my shoulders, trying to be as small as I possibly could infront of Optimus, who's gaze I couldn't quite interpret.

"On Cybertron, there is quite a similar practise."

"So you're saying it's worth a shot, Prime?", Ironhide asks, unsure of what to think of the situation. "But he's not dead, as Alexander pointed out correctly.", Ratchet added.

Optimus turned around to face his Autobots.

"This may be our only chance. We must take it. For the sake of both worlds. This war has been going on for so long, we cannot let this hold us down. And now it seems there is a way to find out why this is happening. We will fix it, together."

Now it was on Lennox to speak up again.

"So we gon' dissect Megatron? I'm all in honestly. That fucker did enough damage."

My eyes widen at that. "They're not gonna kill him!" Unsure of the righteousness of what I just said I looked at Optimus, who nodded.

"See? They're just gonna take out the navigation system and leave."

"Ooh, big M is gonna be SO mad when he finds out."

"He won't.", Optimus retorted with an absolute certainty in his voice.

"Alright then, it's settled. Prepare people and gather as much information as possible for this mission and await any orders from Big O!"

And with that final order of Lennox the soldiers scattered around, leaving immediately.

Okay great, I'm gonna go be useless again wohoo.

"Alex?"

I look toward the sound of the voice I already grew to cherish. "I know, I know. I ain't accompanying you. I'd die if I did, already know that."

The Prime nods.

"I am glad you understand."

I love you so much I wish I could tell you...

As he remained standing there I grew nervous, fidgeting with the strings of my hoodie.

"Is there something you need?"

"Wha- me? No! Just... go be a hero.

You know you're good at it."

I clear my throat, pretty sure Optimus could hear my pulse. "But remember to take a break sometimes. I always see you up and about."

Did I overstep? I knew it. Chance blown. Goodbye earth. No romance.

"I highly appreciate your concern Alex."

He's always saying my name help. Is he just being polite or what does this mean?!

"There is this human saying. What was it again? I grab it with my heart...?"

Please he's so cute I can't~

"I'll take it to heart was it probably. It means to honor someone's wishes as you see them important."

He tilts his helm in question. "The person or the wish?"

That is when I think all the 5 liters of blood inside my body went up to my face.

Keep calm, stay cool Alex. Don't embarrass yourself.

"It's up to the person saying that."

Whatever higher power there is, please help me!

"You deem my wellbeing as important and so do I"

Phew, that was close...

"Can it be both?"

WHAT

"Eh, sure. There's always room for interpretation."

I guess...?

What has my life come to? They probably think I'm a know it all person. I gotta keep my damn mouth shut from now on.

"Very well then Alex, I look forward to working with you."

I only nod, trying not to get lost in those beautiful blue optics.

"I'm sure it's gonna be great Optimus!"

Unless I unsubscribe from life because a Deception squishes me...

[learnfromhawking]

Greetings, fellow learners! It's your boy again, the one and only language guru. And today, we're going to talk about one of the most brilliant minds that ever lived: Stephen Hawking.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Oh great, another blog post about the most famous theoretical physicist of all time. Yawn." But hold up, my friends! This ain't your typical Stephen Hawking tribute. No, no, no. We're going to get a little more personal today.

You see, Stephen Hawking wasn't just a genius with a bunch of fancy theories about black holes and the universe. He was also a man with a sense of humor. Yes, you heard me right. Stephen Hawking was funny.

Now, I'm not talking about knock-knock jokes or anything like that. Stephen Hawking's humor was more subtle, but it was there. For example, he once said, "Life would be tragic if it weren't funny." And he wasn't just saying that because he was in a wheelchair. He truly believed that laughter was an essential part of the human experience.

But don't just take my word for it. Here's a little anecdote for you. One time, Stephen Hawking was supposed to give a lecture at a conference, but his speech synthesizer broke down. Instead of panicking, he calmly waited for a technician to fix it. And when the technician finally arrived, Stephen Hawking said, "I hope you've been keeping out of trouble." Classic.

So, what's the lesson here, folks? Well, it's simple. Even the smartest person in the world can appreciate a good laugh. And if Stephen Hawking could find humor in his own situation, then we can certainly find humor in ours.

So, keep on learning, keep on laughing, and keep on being awesome. And remember, as Stephen Hawking once said, "Look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Be curious."

[ch3rrycolv]

BLOODSHED; A Legacy [CHAPTER 3]

CW: Violence and death, Emotional distress, Swearing, Mature themes, Flashbacks.

CHAPTER 3

Joel drove with a sense of weary determination, his focus on the road ahead as raindrops pattered against the windshield. Beside him, Bonnie sat quietly, her gaze fixed on the blurry landscape passing by. The monotony was broken suddenly by Ellie's voice from the back of the truck.

“Oh, man.”

Joel and Bonnie both turned their heads to look at Ellie. Joel scolded her gently, “Hey, what happened to sleeping?”

Ellie held up a comic book, her face animated with excitement. “Okay, I know it doesn't look like it, but this here is not a bad read. Only one problem. Right there. 'To be continued!' I hate cliffhangers.”

Bonnie extended her hand, and Ellie obediently handed the comic over. After a few moments of flipping through it, Bonnie asked, “Where did you get this?”

Ellie shrugged nonchalantly. “Uhh, back at Bill's. I mean, all this stuff was just lying there!”

Joel sighed, glancing briefly at Bonnie before focusing back on the road. “What else did you get?”

“Well…” Ellie dug through her bag and pulled out a cassette, holding it up to Joel. “Here. This make you all nostalgic?”

A small smile tugged at Joel's lips. “Y'know, this is actually before my time. That is a winner though.”

As Ellie popped the cassette into the player, country music began to play. Both Joel and Bonnie's interest in the cassette quickly waned.

“Oh, man…” Bonnie sighed, her gaze drifting out the window.

Ellie remained optimistic. “Well, better than nothing.” She continued rummaging through the back of the truck. “Oh, I'm sure 'your friend' will be missing this tonight.” With a mischievous grin, she pulled out a porno magazine.

“Mh-hm.” Neither Joel nor Bonnie seemed particularly bothered.

“Light on the reading, but it's got some interesting photos.”

Joel, scandalized, glanced at Bonnie, then back at Ellie, trying to reason with her. “Now, Ellie, that ain't for kids.”

Ignoring Joel's advice, Ellie flipped through the magazine until she found something surprising. “Whoa. How...how the hell would he even walk around with that thing?”

“Get rid of that. Just—” Joel reached for it, but Ellie kept going.

“Hold your horses. I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

Bonnie, clearly uncomfortable, muttered, “Disgusting.”

Ellie seemed to pause for a moment, then grinned mischievously. “Oh...why are these all stuck together?”

“Disgusting!” Bonnie groaned, while Joel struggled to find the right words, nervously eyeing Ellie through the rearview mirror.

“Um…”

Ellie chuckled at their discomfort. “I'm just messing with you.” She rolled down the window and tossed the magazine out of the car. “Bye-bye, dude.”

After a few moments, Ellie lay back, stretching out on the truck bed. “You know what? This isn't that bad.”

“Why don't you try and get some sleep, alright?” Joel suggested.

Ellie lifted her head, looking defiant. “Pft -- I'm not even tired.” But within ten minutes, she was fast asleep, her earlier energy completely drained.

Joel glanced at Bonnie, his expression thoughtful. “Hey, uh, kid, what did Bill say back there? Before we left.”

Bonnie met his gaze wearily. “Nothing relevant.”

Joel sighed, his curiosity evident. “I know it’s none of my business. I'm just curious...” He shrugged. “He seemed to know you.”

Bonnie hesitated before replying, her tone guarded. “You weren’t the only one with a past back in Boston.”

“Oh, I know. I just didn’t think he had dealings with anyone else from back in Boston.”

They sat in silence for a while until Bonnie broke it. “I had to make a living somehow, but he knew my mom better than he knew me.”

“Your mom?” Joel asked softly, sensing this was a rare moment of openness from her. “You left her behind in Boston?”

“Oh no, she’s dead. Has been for quite some time.”

“Right,” Joel acknowledged quietly, focusing back on the road ahead. “Well, you should get some rest, kiddo. It’s a long ride to where we’re going.”

“Right.” Bonnie nodded, her eyes turning to the passing landscape as the truck rumbled onward to Tommy’s.

➵

“Mommy, where are we going?” Bonnie hid behind her mother’s legs.

In front of her stands her mother, a figure of strength and determination, just outside the fortified walls of the Quarantine Zone. Bonnie's small hand tightly grips her mother's as they approach a weather-beaten building, the scent of rain mingling with the faint sense of gloom that always seemed to surround Bill.

They enter the building, her mom and Bill engaging in rapid conversation not before Bill secured the entrance. Bonnie watches with wide-eyed innocence, not quite understanding the gravity of their conversation but sensing the seriousness in her mother's voice. 

They grow quiet after a while, Bill stepping away to collect something from his pack. “Mommy, who is that man?” Bonnie whispers, her voice barely audible over the distant rumble of the storm outside.

"He's an old friend, sweetheart," her mother replies softly, her hand squeezing Bonnie's reassuringly.

“Like the man back home?” She referred to the man that she, unknowingly, had helped her mother scam in the QZ market. 

Her mother looked puzzled, “Not quite, Honey.”

A young Bill nods solemnly as he listens. His eyes briefly flicker towards Bonnie, who peers up at him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

“Well here’s the supplies, you can check-” Bill hands Bonnie’s mother a back bag. “10 fentanyl, 10 hydrocodone, 10 morphine, and 5 vicodin.”

"Why don't you hold onto this for me, Baby?" Her mother passed her the bag, looking for something in her own pack. 

“Sure! Make the kid hold on to the multiple pain drugs.”

“Oh, shut it, Bill,” Bonnie’s mother retorted, her tone laced with a mix of familiarity and playful banter. She held out a cassette towards him with a teasing grin. “Anyway, here’s that cassette you were whining about. Didn’t take you for a punk rock enthusiast, but whatever.”

Bill straightened up at the sight of the cassette, his gruff demeanor softening slightly as he reached out to take it, handling it with unexpected care before pocketing it with a nod of acknowledgment. “It’s none of your business anyway.”

Bonnie’s mother smiled knowingly, her gaze flicking between Bill and her daughter. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Bill.” She took the bag from Bonnie’s hands, efficiently packing everything up and motioning towards the exit of the building.

“C’mon Honey, it’s time to go home.”

➵

“Wake up!”

“I’m up, what?!” Bonnie looked around, noticing Joel was driving progressively slower. “where are we?”

Joel looked at her, “Pittsburgh.”

Ellie looked at the both of them, “Never been.”

Bonnie turned and looked at her, “Figured.” she said disinterestedly.

They continued driving for a few minutes before Joel stooped up in his seat frantically, “Oh, no, no, no, no. Well, perfect.” He sat back, disappointed at the freeway being clogged up with abandoned cars.

Ellie poked her head through the front seats, “now what?”

Bonnie took out a map out of her bag, flipping it a couple times,”We should take the long rout, just turn back-”

“Screw it,” Joel continues down the turnpike passing the abandoned streets, even passing the suspiciously empty QZ. 

The drive was going seemingly smoothly until Joel hit the break abruptly, “Easy.” Ellie stressed. 

A man started limping towards them, “Please… help…”

Ellie poked her head again, “Holy shit... Are we going to help him?” Bonnie turned to look at her with a sudden seriousness, “Ellie, put your seatbelt on.”

“Help me…” The man kept groaning and moaning as he limped closer and closer. 

“What about the guy?” Ellie worried. 

Joel’s eyes darkened, “Oh, he ain't even hurt.”

He pressed the gas, driving at a high speed towards the “injured” man. Said man pulled out a gun, shooting at the incoming truck. As Joel swerved the group found out it wasn't just one guy, but a dozen. Brick and bullets rained on them until a whole nother truck crashed into them, sending them flying into an abandoned store. 

They frantically escaped after getting rid of, killing, some crazed hunters, coming across a garage filled with bodies and inventory lists that gave away the fact that those people were killed merely for the purpose of replacing some hunter’s shoes. 

They continued walking through the city until the herd hunters approached, “Where did you learn to shoot?”

“Man, screw you.”

“You had an entire flock and hit nothing.”

“I'm about to hit you.”

“Wow...yeah, you're really upset. Well if you want some lessons, I'm more than willing to help you out.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Ellie turned to Bonnie as the trio hid behind a car, “These guys just love to talk huh?-”

Bonnie gave her a sharp glare through her peripheral vision spitting out a subtle “Shut up”. Joel not even paying her any mind.

Ellie was the first to stand up after the hunters left, “Hey, we can climb the bus right here. Okay, we need to lighten the mood. Ready? It doesn't matter how much you push the envelope -- it'll still be stationary.”

Joel and Bonnie looked at each other, him sighing, “What is that?”

Ellie smiled, looking proud at herself, “A joke book. No Pun Intended: Volume Too by Will Livingston.”

“Get that from Bill’s too?” Bonnie asked with a clear tone of sarcasm. 

Joel said, “Let's just keep going.” 

"What did they use to drink with? Cups. Dixie cups." "I walked into my sister's room and tripped on a bra. It was a booby-trap." "A book just fell on my head. I only have myself to blame." Oh wait, I said it wrong. Hold on, let me read it again. "A book just fell on my head...I only have my shelf to blame." Heh...ruined it. "What is the leading cause of divorce in long-term marriages? A stalemate."

Ellie kept reading horrible jokes from her funny book, eventually growing tired of it. The three of them progressed into an old quarantine zone. Dispatching all of the hunters they come across with. 

“That was too damn close.” Joel sighed after killing the last hunter.

“The edge of the universe and back. Endure and survive.”

He turned to Ellie, confused, “Excuse me?”

“Savage Starlight. That comic I've been reading? It's what the hero says after a big battle.”

“Corny,” Teased Bonnie. Ellie looked at her, placing a hand over the right side of her chest. 

“I am not.”

“Yes you are. You are also an idiot, your heart is on the left side not the right.” She took hold of Ellie's arm, moving Ellie's palm to where her heart actually was. 

She went ahead of both Joel and Ellie to look for more hunters, leaving a blushing Ellie behind, “I'm not an idiot!”

Ellie and Joel entered the flooded street, quieting down as they spotted Bonnie crouched behind a car, her finger over her lips.

“Sh… They are leaving.”

They waited a few moments. Eventually the hunters left, joel, bonnie and ellie waiting a few minutes before taking the same path as the hunters. 

They crossed rooms, killing both hunters and infected until they had to climb an unstable elevator. 

“You find us something to climb on. Okay, here we go.”

Ellie looked at them both apprehensively, climbing with Joel's help only after getting a reassuring nod from Bonnie. As Joel is boosting her up, the lift fails. Taking Joel and Bonnie with it. 

Bonnie barely had time to scream as the lift beneath her gave way, sending her plummeting through a cloud of dust and debris. She hits a metal beam, separating her from Joel and  landing her hard on a creaking bed frame two floors down, the impact jarring her to the core. The ceiling above her groaned ominously, threatening to collapse on top of her.

determined, Bonnie pushed herself up, her body protesting with every movement. She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she assessed her surroundings.

Clutching her small pistol, Bonnie moved cautiously towards the doorway, her senses on high alert. The hallway beyond was eerily quiet, the silence broken only by the distant sounds of the hunters lurking somewhere in the building.

Moving quickly, she made her way towards the stairwell at the end of the hall. The metal door creaked as she pushed it open, revealing a narrow staircase leading up. She began her ascent, each step taken with deliberate caution to avoid making noise.

Halfway up the stairs, Bonnie heard the unmistakable voices of hunters. She froze, pressing herself against the wall and listening intently.

“Search the rooms! They’ve got to be around here somewhere,” one of the hunters barked.

Heart pounding, Bonnie knew she couldn’t afford to be caught. She needed a plan. Scanning her surroundings, she noticed a small broom closet nearby. She slipped inside, closing the door just enough to keep an eye on the hunters without being seen.

 When the hunters finally passed her hiding spot, she slipped out silently and began to creep up to each one of them, clearing out the entire floor. 

As she moved up the stairs, reaching the next floor, Bonnie found herself in another dimly lit corridor.

She carefully opened a door to one of the rooms, hoping to find a way through. Inside, she stilled for a few moments before hearing a gun being shot. 

Following the noise she stumbled into a room that contained a distressed Ellie holding a gun that she got god knows where, Joel on the floor barely breathing and a guy, probably a hunter, on the floor holding his knee. 

“Please!I’ll do anything!”

Bonnie ran to the guy first, yanking his head up by his hair before hitting him square in the face with the back of his gun, then shooting a bullet through his brain as a precaution. 

Ellie, breathlessly, said, “Man, you shot the hell out of that guy, huh?” Looking at Bonnie wearily. 

Joel kneels, finally catching his breath, “yeah, she did.” He stands up, taking the pistol out of Ellie's hand, “Why didn't you just hang back like I told you to?”

Ellie looks at him at a loss of words, “Well, you're glad I didn't, right?”

“I'm glad I didn't get my head blown off by a goddamn kid.”

“Joel-”

“You know what? No. How about "Hey, Ellie. I know it wasn't easy, but it was either him or me, thanks for saving my ass." You got anything like that for me, Joel?”

They all still for a moment, giving Joel time to process his thoughts, “We gotta get going.”

Ellie, clearly hurt, tries to look for comfort for Bonnie, at least, only to find the girl had already moved on. “Lead the way.”

They move on, clearing street after street full of hunters, so full that they decide its best to just climb through the building. 

They finally seem to find an empty one, only to find a happy little surprise on the other side. 

“Oh, shit.” A young man grabs Joel, clearly trying to kill him. Joel overpowers him and gives him some gut punches. 

“Joel!” 

“Wait! Wait!” 

Bonnie breaks up Joel and the guy attacking them, “Joel, stop! Look.”

They see a kid nearby with a gun.

➵

The man and the kid, Henry and Sam.  ended up not being that much of a threat. As soon as Henry, the older brother, realized that Joel wasn’t just another hunter he put his walls down, even offering for the five of them to continue crossing the city together. 

They eventually managed to escape through another old quarantine zone, not before Joel almost drowned, and they advanced to the old radio tower, setting up a place to sleep. 

Morning brought a brief respite. The smell of Henry's cooking momentarily lifted their spirits. Ellie broke the silence.

"Damn. That smells good," she remarked, trying to inject a sense of normalcy.

"Good morning," Joel grunted, his exhaustion evident.

"Where's Sam?" Ellie asked, noticing his absence.

"I let him sleep in," Henry replied, a rare moment of parental leniency in their harsh reality.

Ellie nodded, concerned, flickering across her face. "Oh."

"If you want him up, go wake his ass," Henry joked weakly.

"Okay," Ellie agreed reluctantly, heading to Sam's room.

Bonnie got up from where she slept beside Joel, picking up her pack, taking inventory of all her weapons. 

"Sam? Sam!" Ellie called out, but her voice was met with Bonnie's sudden alarm.

"What the hell?"

In a flash, Sam lunged at Ellie, his eyes wild with aggression.

"Shit! He's turning!" Joel shouted, reacting too late. Bonnie rose to action, pulling out her pistol immediately. 

Henry fired a warning shot. "That's my brother!"

"Sam!" Ellie cried out, her shock echoing through the room.

Joel acted swiftly, firing a fatal shot to save Ellie from Sam's attack.

"Oh, shit..." Ellie gasped, the reality sinking in.

"Ellie? You okay?" Bonnie voiced amidst the chaos.

"Yeah... Oh my god," Ellie stammered, trying to process what had happened.

"Sam?" Henry's voice cracked with grief.

"Oh no..."

"Sam..."

Joel took charge, his voice commanding. "Henry. Ellie, stay here. Henry."

"Henry, what have you done?" Ellie's voice trembled with fear and confusion.

"I'm gonna take that gun, okay?" Joel's tone was firm, trying to prevent more tragedy.

"Sa... Sa... Sam..." Henry struggled to speak.

"Easy," Joel urged, trying to calm Henry down.

"It's your fault," Henry accused bitterly.

"No one's to blame, Henry," Joel reasoned calmly.

"It's all your fault!"

"Henry! No..." Joel pleaded, but Henry turned the gun on himself.

"Oh my god," Ellie whispered, stunned by the sudden turn of events.

➵

The gray walls of the Quarantine Zone loomed around them as Bonnie and her mother navigated the crowded market. The air was thick with the scent of decay and desperation, mixed with the distant cries of traders. Bonnie clutched her mother's hand tightly, her eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and fear.

"Mommy, where are we going now?" Bonnie asked quietly.

Her mother smiled down at her, though her eyes were hard. "Just a little errand, sweetheart. Stay close to me."

They approached a makeshift stall where a man stood, his face gaunt and eyes darting nervously. Bonnie's mother greeted him with a warm smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Good afternoon," she said smoothly. "I hear you have a communication device for trade?"

The man nodded, his gaze shifting between Bonnie and her mother. "Yeah, it's a working radio. Hard to come by these days."

"A working radio, you say? That's quite a find." Her mother leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But you know, I've heard there's been some damaged merchandise going around. Mind if I take a closer look?"

The man hesitated but eventually handed over the radio. Bonnie watched as her mother expertly examined it, her fingers turning it over with practiced ease, her expression a mask of scrutiny.

"Hmm, this seems a bit off," her mother remarked, shaking her head slightly. "I'm afraid this might be broken, you know i don't take merchandise in bad condition"

The man's eyes widened in panic. "No, I swear it's good! I got it from a reliable source!"

Her mother sighed, the sound tinged with false sympathy. "Look, I'm not saying you're lying, but I can't take the risk. How about this? I'll give you half of what we agreed on, just in case."

The man's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine," he muttered, handing over the radio. Bonnie's mother quickly exchanged it for a handful of ration cards, her movements smooth and efficient. Bonnie noticed the slight smirk on her mother’s face as she handed over the fake ration cards.

As they walked away, Bonnie looked up at her mother with wide eyes. "Mommy, why did you say his radio was broken? It looked good to me."

Her mother squeezed Bonnie's hand, her smile cold and calculating. "Sometimes, sweetheart, people need a push to make the right decisions. It's about doing whatever it takes to stay alive."

Bonnie nodded slowly, not fully understanding but feeling a chill run down her spine.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Tryna write this post about Hobie's Black-Cat OC MysStray and like 😭😭 I'm Strugglin' I really am

ummm I'm too lazy to go and finish it and make it all nice so imma just infodump about her and Hobies past and dynamic heehee

Anyway 😈 her name is pronounced Miss Stray or Mystery. And Myssie is just Missy but Boujee

Spider-Punk x Black Cat: MysStray - Miranda Straizand

Her real name is Miranda but everyone calls her Myssie. Only Hobie calls her Miranda and that's only when they about to start arguing.

[she be like 'don't Miranda me, ya dickhead. If I start calling you Hobart it's gonna get embarrassing 🤨']

She's 22, an exotic dancer, bud dealer, and credit-card scamming hacker.

HOWEVER

Not only is her faceclaim Rico Nasty but she's also his ex and I have no idea how to write her without ppl being like 'damn why she so mean to him 😐'

Like nooo she means shut the fuck up affectionately. She means tosser in a nice way 😭😭 she's telling him to roll hey blunt cause her love language is acts of service I promise

But uhh yeah they meet as civilians a couple years back but didn't get into it until Hobie was in a tight spot money wise and needed a place to stay - this was right after he got his powers and was patrolling 24/7 to the point it was wearing him down and he had no interest in making money.

And his friend Harry was like 'you can stay with my bud dealer but she might have you working for her'

Hobie ended up staying with her as her pseudo-body guard and blunt roller until he started hitting on her.

Which, she was like 'that's fucking bold of you. You sleeping in my crib, eating my food and now you wanna sleep in my bed? AND YOU'RE BROKE?'

But somehow it worked. He has the rizz. I'm serious.

He got a 'promotion'.

Though Myssie would never say they're dating or that she's his girlfriend.

She'd always say specifically "Hobie's my boyfriend."

And if you asked him, he'd specifically say "I'm her boyfriend."

ie, He's hers. Like not in a possessive way but in a 'She ain't his any-fucking-thing. She ain't nobodies nothing' kinda way - do that make sense 😭

They dated for about a year, with Myssie finding out he was Spider-Man on her own a couple months in.

She was not thrilled. She wasn't mad. She just -

That crawling on walls shit night be cute - but being out in them streets fighting some punk-ass cops talking about 'I'm an anarchist suicide-machine'?

No, no I think not.

Originally she was not into it. That righteous shit was not for her. Her and Hobie had been handling business smoothly, Myssie had moneying come in. The whole circle was eating good - why was he trying to be a hero?

She much preferred he did it on his own time like before. The webs can stay though, she likes the webs.

Hobie on the other hand was like 'okay fuck whatever'. It's not like he needed to be held and babied 24/7. And he knew how Black Cats were, but still - damn.

He'd come home after the shittiest patrol, and she'd act like it was a bad day at the office. A blunt can't fix everything.

Eventually as Myssie learned that Hobie being Spider-man didn't mean he was trying to force righteousness on her - or looked down on her for not seeking it, she got more comfortable with the idea.

And then she got her ass locked up.

All of a sudden she's like 'Hey Spidey come get me 🤣🤣🤣'

Of course he comes. But of course he's like

"I should leave you're arse here but I won't because I'm a good person."

And she's like "You won't because you know better - I'm just joking stop playing and get me out babes 😭😭'

So they had a few good months of crime and justice. Having government systems, stealing funds. Myssie dancing and dealing on the side while Hobie does shows.

They dated maybe a year, a little over that.

Eventually she broke up with him. It was a harsh one. Myssie has Borderline Personality Disorder and although she really loved Hobie, after finding out he was Spider-Man the concern and worry and stress it put on her was too much and she choose to look after her mental health instead.

She's not the type to patch him up when he comes home bloody. Waking up to that shit genuinely stresses her out.

Sitting around waiting not knowing if he would make it home really fucked with her head every night.

She's not trying to take down a system. She's trying to put food on her table and money in her account and live her life fucking quietly.

Eventually she was like 'I'm sorry. I love you, but you're driving me nuts.'

Hobie couldn't fault her. But damn it hurt. Especially because it wasn't like a 'oh btw maybe we should break up' kinda thing it was a 'i can't take this shit anymore' type thing.

He actually felt bad for putting her in the situation because she signed up to date him not Spider-man. And Myssie was never a hero to begin with, she doesn't have a righteous bone in her body.

And then it came to the topic of - UH OH you now live with your ex-boyfriend (plus he's broke and reckless)

Myssie offered to pay for a place for him but Hobie was like 'fuck no' and took off.

Eventually through Harry, Myssie learned that Hobie got a place - his boathouse - making a steady income on his band's mixtape and merch. She was happy for him, but she still kept her distance. Cause like, how do you even approach that?

After breaking up with a dude then low-key kicking him out your flat? It's not like she just stopped having feelings for him. So she kept her distance, for both of their sakes.

No hard feelings, but doing what she has to do.

So that was it. Until one day, Hobie shows up at her job.

Mind you, Myssie dances. So Hobies options were coming to her house unannounced, or show up to her strip club unannounced.

He meets her backstage but, she refuses to see him unless he pays like everyone else.

He can either buy a dance or buy some weed, but she'll only link with him as a customer. They can't just be hanging to hang, y'know?

So Hobie leaves and the next day, he turns up to her place early with the money - having gotten an early advance from a performance.

He buys a quarter of buds from her, and while he rolls a blunt he tells her that he needs her to hack an extremely sophisticated system.

One more complicated than anything they've ever seen.

He can't pay her for the job. He's asking her as a friend.

He tells her that if she takes it, she's going to have to learn a lot about him being Spider-man, and that it might change a lot of things for her, but it's something he can't do on his own.

Reluctantly, Myssie agrees.

He shows her is Spider Society watch - and tells her he needs help hacking the system and disabling the AI on it.

He wants to find the backdoor that leads to HQ's mainframes, and deconstruct it from there.

He tells her about what it can do, and the other Spider-people. Myssie agrees to do the job, but stops him from telling her more, because she'd rather live not knowing everything about the universe.

For a couple weeks they work on it together, and surprisingly they don't rip out each other's throats. In fact, it's kinda nice.

Then Diane enters the picture.

Myssie isn't jealous. She's just very confused.

For one, it's very obvious Diane is from a different planet. She acts like it. There's nothing punk or edgy about her. She's very clearly not from 138.

But she's Spiderwoman. The idea that there's more of them? A whole multiverse of them - a whole multiverse of Black Cats - Myssie... isn't with it.

And secondly, Diane is the opposite of Myssie. Myssie has never heard her say a joke that wasn't well-meaning.

The first time Diane heard Myssie tell Hobie 'Shut the fuck up' (within ten minutes of meeting her) Diane audibly gasped.

Myssie was like 'girl you too tf 🤨 shit both y'all pissin me off'

It's not that Myssie doesn't like Diane - it's just that half the time when Diane speaks Myssie is like

Diane is nice and all - but where the fuck did he find this chick? Why she always here?

Why does she like Hobie so much? He's a lame!! He's broke!! He tells wack ass jokes!!

Like yeah Myssie dated him and loves him but also ????? Groupie??? Girl get a grip!!!!!!

But anyway Myssie helped Hobie hack Spider Society's systems.

They're currently defined as 'Exes' in a nonexistent situationship. Diane has floated the idea with Hobie of them getting back together, now that Hobie has her to support him in the Spideystuff (they're polyam) but Hobie is like 'that ain't up to me'

What happens to them? Idk.

But they've started hanging out to hang out again, so that's a start.

And she's been flipping him off more, which is like her way of flirting.

But like.... That's cute and all - but in the moment she's so mean.

He says a stupid joke to mess with her and she's like ' shut the fuck up and roll the blunt bruv 😒🤨' even though she's stickering and cackling.

But I don't want y'all to think she's just being mean to him just to be mean 😭😭 noo

The way they talk to each other is mad aggressive

Like when he makes a bad joke and she calls him 'one daft bastard' she means he's funny and cheeky and being a silly little guy

Noooo when he calls her a hell spawn or a demon he means that affectionately 🥺🥺 he's making a funny

Nooo they're not fighting they're wrestling over the blunt and also getting play-hits in and also accidentally trashing Myssies place

She's like 'Quit talking shit and come cuddle me. Arsehole.'

He's like 'How about you calm the hell down and give me a kiss 😐'

He calls her Pryssie like prissy because she's highstrung as fuck

She calls him bug boy and pipsqueak even though he's like a foot taller than her

They're just rough around the edges okay them telling each other to go to hell means I love you okay

Mysbie aka StrayPunk or MysPunk idk which one I like more

Oh ALSO Myssie and Hobie have had the Spiderman PS4 timeline

ie Myssie lied and was like uhhh I need money for my son that's why I'm running game

And Hobie was like fuck is that kid mine I cannot a dad and he starts stressing out

Only for her to be like 'first of all I lied second of all why would you think it's yours? That's bold of you. You ain't the only dick on dial 😐🤨'

Okay but I PROMISE They're cute together I promise TRUST ME PLEASE

[sshewonders]

WARM BODIES

Chapter 08: Bit of Banter

chapter synopsis: You and Daryl share banter as he carries you through the woods back to camp. Despite his stoicism, your camaraderie grows. As evening nears, Daryl suggests a rest, and you promise not to fall asleep, leaving the both of you with a sense of trust and companionship between you two.

chapter warnings: The chapter contains mild language, emotional discussions, physical injury, carrying scenes, humor, character development, and survival themes in a woodland setting.

word count: 1.9k words

author's note: Okay, I seriously hope that this is not cringe, and I had written it as I'd imagined it in my mind. And oh, by the way, don't be too comfortable and wishing for a softer Daryl; you know the saying, "be careful what you wish for." Anyway, enjoy reading.

MASTERLIST

NEXT CHAPTER >>

You nervously gnawed on your lip as he persistently attended to your ankle with a massage. Occasionally, you couldn't help but emit either a contented sigh or an exaggerated groan, prompting him to shoot you a disapproving look and simultaneously cease his ministrations on your mildly sore ankle. To be brutally frank, your ankle wasn't in agonizing pain, but who in their right mind would turn down his, albeit somewhat coerced, offer to play ankle masseuse? It's like refusing a free ticket to the foot massage carnival.

"Why were you looking for me, anyway?" You began, "So much for the 'Ain't nobody got time to babysit you.'" You echoed his words, reminiscent of a little over a month ago.

Daryl halted the ankle massage, releasing a sigh as he nibbled on his bottom lip. "Knew you were gonna be here, deep in them forest."

"Really?" You shot him a puzzled look, your nose scrunching up a bit. Daryl nodded before resuming the ankle massage. "How did you know?"

Daryl paused the ankle massage and, with a gruff sincerity, said, "You're the type who'd rather spill your guts to the trees than start a conversation with someone, even if you know 'em pretty well." He continued massaging again.

“Oh.” You could feel your cheeks warming up with embarrassment. Were you really that obvious or was he really that observant?

"No need to be embarrassed. I'd do the same. Nowadays, it ain't easy trustin' folks, even if you think you know 'em well enough."

After a few minutes of quiet, only the serene sounds of the river, splashing fish, and birds' melodies surrounding the both of you, Daryl completed the ankle massage and settled down beside you. You both found yourselves captivated by the picturesque view of the river.

"Thanks, Daryl," You broke the silence. "For the ankle massage and for wandering through the woods to find me. I know I can be a real pain in your ass sometimes."

Daryl grunted, a nonchalant acknowledgment. "Ain't nothin'".

A pause lingered before Daryl cautiously broached a different topic, "Didn't mean to make you cry tha' night, back when we first talked."

You furrowed your brow, puzzled. "How'd you know I cried?"

Another grunt from Daryl, "Stood outside your tent. Was gonna apologize, heard you sniffle and sketch. Just stood there 'til I heard you crumblin' papers. Then, I left."

The revelation left you surprised and contemplative. "You...you were outside my tent that night?"

Daryl affirmed with a nod, his gaze still fixed on the river. "Yeah, I was."

There was a silence before you spoke up, "Sorry for asking about stuff I shouldn't have, Daryl."

Daryl stayed silent, letting you continue.

"I just... I wanted to learn how to be useful, y'know? Before all this happened, I felt useless. Still feel pretty much useless in this new world of ours." You took a deep breath. "I gotta figure things out for myself now. My brother's gone, and I can't trust anyone these days."

Daryl listened, his gaze fixed on the river.

"But when Glenn and I found you, everything sorta settled for me. It felt like I had a plan for my future." You paused, looking at Daryl. "And now, I don't even know where to start."

Daryl asked, "Why me?"

You shrugged, "I don't really know why. Just seemed right, I guess."

"Your brother, what was his name?"

You replied, "Rick Grimes. He was a sheriff's deputy, like Shane."

Daryl nodded, "Dipshit told you he's dead, didn't he?"

You smiled, although sad, and nodded back, "Yeah, he did."

Daryl leaned in a bit, "You don't really believe that, do you?"

You kept your sad smile, "Nope, not really. Wouldn't believe he's dead unless I see his body with my own eyes."

"Tell me about 'im."

You rambled on about your brother, "My brother was...well, he used to think he was some kind of superhero, always trying to save the day. Sheriff's deputy, he was. I swear, he thought he could rescue the world from bad hair days or something. Used to bug the hell outta me, but now I'd give anything to hear him ramble about his 'heroic' escapades again."

You chuckled, catching Daryl's eye, "And you'd think being a deputy, he'd have some epic stories. Nope. Most exciting thing was probably catching Mrs. Henderson's cat stuck up a tree. He'd go on and on about it like it was a damn mountain rescue."

You continued to talk about your brother, your words weaving through memories like a melancholy tapestry. "You know, Rick used to tell me stories when we were kids. Silly tales about superheroes and brave knights. He'd promise that as long as he was around, nothing bad would happen to me."

Your voice carried a weight of nostalgia and sorrow as you shared these fragments of the past with Daryl. "He became a sheriff's deputy, because he wanted to be like our Dad who was the previous Sheriff. Always looked out for people. But now... now it feels like he's gone, and I can't shake this feeling of being lost."

Unexpectedly, Daryl offered you his crossbow without saying a word, leaving you confused.

"What're you doing?" You asked.

Daryl replied, "First part of hunting is knowin' how to properly hold a weapon."

You chuckled, "Excuse me, I'm an archer too. I know how to use a bow."

Annoyed, Daryl retorted, "You want me to teach you or not?"

You grabbed the crossbow, admiring it, and teased, "Do I need to ask your beloved crossbow for permission before I press the trigger?" You laughed.

Daryl kept a straight face. "Shut up," he said, proceeding to instruct you on how to use the crossbow.

Daryl began instructing you, "Alright, listen up. First, you gotta have a steady grip. Hold it firm but not too tight. Feel the weight of it."

You followed his lead, adjusting your grip on the crossbow.

"Good. Now, your posture. Sit comfortably, back straight. Gotta be steady, or you'll miss your shot."

You nodded, ensuring your sitting position was solid. Daryl continued, "Next, line up the sights. You see those notches? Align 'em with your target. Take a deep breath, exhale slowly. And when you're ready, squeeze the trigger, don't jerk it."

You focused on the sights, taking a deep breath as Daryl had instructed. "Like this?"

Daryl nodded, "Yeah, that's it. Practice it a few times. Get the feel of it."

As you practiced, Daryl observed, occasionally giving pointers on your form and aiming. After a few tries, he suddenly said, "Hold up. Don't press the trigger just yet."

Confused, you looked at him. "Why not?"

Daryl explained, "If you're practicin' your aim at prey, it should be moving. Let's simulate that. Track something with your sights, follow its movement. Don't press the trigger till you get a feel for aimin' at a moving target."

After a session of aiming practice that left you feeling tired as hell, the sun began its descent, casting an orange hue across the horizon. It dawned on you that you and Daryl needed to make your way back to camp before darkness settled in. Daryl, always practical, stood up, collected his belongings, and suggested to head back.

Nodding in agreement, you decided to rise to your feet, only to end up sitting back down with a thud. The pain from your sprained ankle made standing an impossible feat. Daryl, observing your attempts with hands on his hips, witnessed the struggle. Sitting on the ground, you sighed, admitting defeat. "I can't stand," you acknowledged.

Expressing his annoyance, Daryl rolled his eyes, pivoted to face away from you, and knelt on the ground, patting his back as an invitation. "Come on," he urged.

Your curious "What?" prompted Daryl to respond, "Can't carry ya. Got things to carry. And don't get any ideas; didn't say you're heavy." He quickly countered your gasp, playfully insinuating the thought you were heavy.

Rolling your eyes at his teasing, you retorted, "You better not be calling me fat."

Daryl smirked, "Nope, not at all. Just practical. We both got stuff to carry. But since you can't walk, piggyback's the most sensible way to get ya back to camp."

Worried about being a burden, you hesitated, "I'll try to stand and walk."

Annoyed, Daryl glanced over his shoulder, muttering, "Get on my back before I decide to leave ya alone in these damn woods." Gulping, you secured your bag and bow on your back before gently climbing onto Daryl's back. As he rose to his feet with you securely on his back, he grunted, signaling the start of the walk back to camp.

As Daryl trekked through the woods, carrying you on his back, the unexpected conversation unfolded. Out of the blue, you proposed the idea of serenading him with a song. Daryl, in his usual straightforward manner, swiftly shut down the notion with a simple "Nope."

Unfazed, you shifted gears and suggested sharing a joke, earning nothing more than a grunt from the taciturn hunter.

Undeterred, you playfully remarked, "Must be tough for you, not being able to crack a smile."

Daryl, ever the stoic one, coolly replied, "I got a sense of humor, you know."

You, feigning skepticism, shot back, "Really? I don't see any evidence of it."

Daryl, with a hint of amusement, retorted, "You haven't said somethin' funny." Quick on your thinking, you teased, "Your face is funny." Daryl, surprisingly, looked over his shoulder, your faces in close proximity, and he maintained a deadpan expression.

"Hey, Daryl, ever hear the one about the squirrel who took up acting?"

Daryl, with a raised eyebrow, grunted, "Nope."

You chuckled and said, "He was a real nut case!"

Daryl's deadpan expression remained unchanged, prompting you to add, "You know, for a tough guy, you could use a laugh or two."

Daryl, without missing a beat, retorted, "Your jokes need some work."

Pouting playfully, you shot back, "Oh, come on! I bet even the geeks would crack up at that one!"

As Daryl trudged through the dense woods, you, still reveling in your own humor, couldn't resist another attempt at cracking a joke.

"Alright, Daryl, one more for you," you grinned. "Why did the geek join a gym?"

Daryl, in his usual monotone, replied, "I don't know."

"Because he wanted to improve his dead-lift!" You burst into laughter at your own joke.

Daryl, not sharing the same enthusiasm, simply grunted in response. You, wiping away tears of laughter, decided to shift the conversation.

"Hey, Daryl, do you think we'll run into any geek stand-up comedians out here?"

Daryl raised an eyebrow but offered no verbal response. You, however, continued your comedic musings.

"Maybe they'll have a killer routine!" You added, chuckling at your own pun.

Daryl, looking ahead, remarked, "You sure have a way with words." You beamed at the back of his head, proud of your comedic prowess.

As you both continued the journey, Daryl broke the silence, suggesting, "You might wanna rest for a bit. It's gonna be a long walk."

You, with a touch of pride, declared, "I won't fall asleep, promise."

( divider by @cafekitsune )

@celtic-crossbow @maackiimoo @duckmania127 @xmaeyonaiise @richardsamboramylove55 @snailss

[papatundespainknife]

based on the backstory and personalities of the Mikalesons, do you have any headcannons about Mikaelsons + religion?

oh HECKIE YEAH

i think it's honestly SUCH an interesting topic and concept seeing as how their all you know immortals n shit and magics real and etc etc. unlike say, btvs where Willow literally invokes Osiris, tvd doesn't really make any solid references or claims about the whole Deity Situation until apparently legacies but I haven't watched it yet and sounds Kinda Dumb so I'm ignoring that lol. But the rule of thumb with shows like these seems to be that once you say draculas and witches are Super Real then it's open season for Zeus enter stage right like it's an episode of Xena. Which when you look at the Mikaelsons....... Wild.

I think that Freya, Finn and Rebekah are the most unironically straight-forwardly religious and I think they've stuck to the norse/scandinavian beliefs they grew up with. Freya both because of the 1,000 years of Napping Nonsense but also because she's a witch and that's the school she was taught in so she's sticking with it. Finn for similar naptime reasons and also because he doesn't see a reason to change and didn't even when they were in France and hanging out with christians. For Rebekah it's like pure sentimentality. She likes a lot of the aesthetics of mainly catholicism (the swagiest of sects) but at the end of the day she's still out here making offerings to Freya (the goddess not the sister fdjkgdfsdfs) because she's a sappy little sentimental bitch and that's what brings her comfort. I don't think she's particularly religious which I think Freya and Finn are but she enjoys the celebrations and finds comfort in the actions/words/rituals/prayers/etc.

Kol and Elijah are more wiggly in their beliefs. Kol still calls back to his roots a LOT but he's also expanded out over the years since he's still a witch at heart and a curious cat. He's less interested in following any one religion and more in what resonates with him. So his believe system is very eclectic. What he believes in he believes in 10000% and is dead serious about. He's also experimented and educated himself about world religions the most out of all of them. Dude could probably teach a clss tbh.

Elijah is the one who's actually been the closest you can be to an atheist in a world like this. He's had periods of like, religious nihilism and periods were he's a little more hopeful about it. He's just spent so much of his life trying to be the Good Reliable Son and like Niklaus praying for divine intervention both with their father and with Niklaus only to get shit in return that it broke him and he just stopped and abandoned all religion/spirituality and focused only on the tangible. Hope's birth fucking shakes him to the core lol. Generally tho even after her he's still more in the like, "not my scene but i do love a good festivity" camp.

Niklaus is an evangelical's idea of an atheist where it's not "i don't believe in god" but instead "i feel god personally slighted me at my bday party so now i'll hurl rocks at him for the rest of my life out of pure spite". his sense of abandonment, unwantedness and paranoia doesn't stop at the threshold of religion. Ofc, he's old as dirt and literally has his own coven that bitches KEEP FORGETTING HE HAS so he's not in doubt that the divine exists. But Thor didn't protect him from his father's abuse so fuck that guy and jesus didn't fix SHIT for him so equally fuck him.

Wouldn't be shocked tho to see him "ironically" do rites/sacrifices to Odin via shit like the death of an enemy/creatively using old school practices for physical/psychological torture bc he's Like That. Does he also end up carving a mjolnir into Hope's crib and giving her a little one on a necklace? yes but this ain't about that hush.

Kol and Niklaus are also the most likely to have an affinity for gods like Loki and his children for reasons I feel are obvious lol. The holiday arguments this creates between them and Finn are unhinged.

[utilitycaster]

i'm not sure if you read the proposed edits to counterspell in the oned&d UA, but I was wondering what your thoughts were? it was kind of a 'if it ain't broke don't fix it' thing for me, maybe even catering more to the crowd who loves to whine about OP spells, but you have a better sense for mechanics than I tend to :)

I admittedly haven’t been keeping up with the playtesting release by release but the version currently out has a con save and also your spell isn’t wasted, and I disagree with both of these. The spell should be wasted - that’s a big part of counterspell, and also it doesn’t make sense: you cast a spell, and then, after you release that spell energy, it is countered. We can tell this because you can counterspell the counterspell, thus making the spell go through.

I’m also not totally thrilled about the con save in that this does favor sorcerers and artificers (and eldritch knights/certain multiclasses) specifically (Con save proficiency); it should be your spellcasting stat, in my opinion. I do actually think making it a saving throw rather than ability check is valid though.

If I may: I think the white guy with glasses and a youtube channel set dislikes counterspell because people will click on their videos if they say this and it's as simple as that, but most other people are just...annoyed that D&D is a game where sometimes your attempt at a cool moment fails. This is a group to be ignored, in my opinion. Counterspell is a thing that happens in this game if you are fighting certain mages; but also, sorry, even the cool guy rogue can roll a nat 1 sometimes. People should learn some fucking humility and get creative instead of whining that the enemy didn't roll over the second they showed up. Also, the thing about counterspell is that it's available to the DM and to players; unless the DM is giving EVERYONE counterspell (and you're not explicitly fighting only mages as a plot thing you're all vibing with) then next fight will be better! Get over it!

[mywritingonlyfans]

Your Boy. // Alex Turner X Reader! (Smut)

prompt: reader feels briefly insecure and alex is there to listen to her. (some fem oral, riding, missionary and some more comfy and goofy and sex stuff)

words: 3.1K

a/n: this fic was originally written with alex, but yes i posted it here before intended for someone else. but since i'll be posting it on wattpad i thought it was fair to post here as well.

You appeared distant, your gaze unfocused, but it was evident that your unease had nothing to do with sadness caused by him. Silence filled the car, a departure from the usual comfort it provided between you. Your eyes were fixed on the road, avoiding his, a shift that had taken place sometime before leaving the party. As he drove, he lightly brushed his fingers over your knees, his touch gentle, leaving his hand there for reassurance once he realized that you weren't feeling unwell because of him. The guitar calluses traveled the place with dexterity, meant for you. Your delicate hand touched his, fingers playfully interlocking, and you found solace in that simple contact. He found himself smiling gently at the gesture.

"Do you want to talk, doll?" he inquired, acknowledging your discomfort. You shook your head, still displaying signs of a troubled mind. He respected your response, considering revisiting the topic at a later time. It was intriguing to think that even with his eyes half-closed and his fists clenched, he could sense that something was amiss with you. He disliked seeing you worried, getting a sight of you like that did that to him.

Upon arriving home, things unfolded as usual. He shed his blazer as you removed your coat, and in the midst of heavy breaths, he embraced you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His arms wrapped around you with tenderness before you pulled back slightly. No words were exchanged, but he stood there with you. Persistent tears welled in your eyes, emotions too strong to contain. You had hoped to avoid this; thinking that you would just sleep with him intertwined the way you loved, and by morning, everything would be clear. However, you now felt that you couldn't do that, you needed his extra warmth to help this pass, even if you wished it could just go away on its own.

In your mind, avoiding moments like this would possibly make you seem more mature in his eyes. But all he really wanted was for you to feel comfortable enough with him, that any of your concerns could be shared with him. After all, he loved you, and it was only fair that you’d both be a safe space for each other. Cupping your face, he carefully kissed you, and you responded with slow, pleasurable movements, allowing him to guide you through it. Gradually, he kissed away your tears, until a soft smile broke through your silent deep sighs. You embraced him, seeking comfort in his chest, finding his embrace unlike any other. He kissed the top of your head in silence, waiting until you let go calmly.

"I feel so silly," you whispered, wiping your cheeks with your hands and allowing his eyes to comfort you. In truth, he held no judgment in them.

"You're not," he said, his voice strong, sharp accent yet comforting. It could whisk away your worries and clear your mind. "If it's bugging you, then it ain't silly," he added, his hands resting easy on your waist, fingers pressing gently. He motioned for you to settle on his lap as he made himself comfy on the couch near the entrance. A soft chuckle slipped from you, and his gaze locked onto yours. This time, the silence felt easygoing, and you held his eye until you felt like talking. He had a knack for calming you down.

"I'm kinda feeling a hint of jealousy, not a big deal, but it's niggling at me. But I want you to know it's not 'cause I don't trust you. That ain't it," you explained. Your body was rigid and your hands cold. He nodded, giving you space to keep going if you wanted. A shiver trickled down your spine as you held him closer, the hug cozy, every inch of his frame against yours. You could feel the warmth of his chest as he responded with a comforting sigh. Despite the run-in with that woman who'd tried to get his attention earlier, he hadn't even hesitated to brush her off. By now, he'd forgotten what her face looked like.

"I'm all yours," his words felt like a lullaby, urging you to nestle into the crook of his neck, his scent enveloping you as he molded himself around you. The way he said it, so sure and free of doubt, soothed you. You held on tighter, your legs wrapping around his waist as he chuckled softly and shifted to make sure you were comfy. Slowly, his hands started to wander over your dress. Even though it was kinda sensual, his touch and the way he looked at you were more about admiration than anything else.

"I get that," you giggled, your cheeks turning a bit hot as you admitted it. You knew he'd never given you reason to doubt. He nodded and his fingers brushed your chin, his brown-puppy eyes tracing every feature on your face. "I'm having trouble wrapping my head ‘round it, babe," a tiny wrinkle formed between his brows, showing his confusion. A gentle kiss from you smoothed it out.

"She was pretty attractive, and she's your age," you sighed, your words getting caught in your throat. "I get you don't really care about that stuff, ‘bout her, but you can't always predict who you might fall for, you know? And it scares me that it could happen, even if I can't explain why it’s bothering me so much right now..." He listened close, catching some of it, and he felt grateful you were sharing your feelings with him, even with you worrying over nothing. But he couldn't lie that he had his own fears about losing you and he'd circled around these thoughts sometimes too. Seeing you upset tugged at his heart.

"I love hearing what's on your mind," his warm hands traveled up your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze as he pulled them closer. He wanted you to feel heard. You nibbled your lip, a tingling creeping up your face. He chuckled, like you both knew where this was heading. "I think you're perfect, this dress makes you even more stunning, and I love how confident you get when you're with me. And I love how you look at me," his cheeks and nose had a cute flush. His voice dropped low, like it was meant for you only, and you laughed with your eyes at him.

It was good to watch because most of all, he was still shy, and it was remarkable, but he wanted to see you well.

"Do you ever think you might fall for someone else?" His question had you shaking your head right away. You couldn't imagine finding anyone even close to him, or even having room to think about it. "I know I couldn't. I'm so caught up thinking about you, there's no space for anyone else. And I love that," you nodded, his words resonating deep inside. As you brought his lips to yours, you relished the surprised sigh that escaped him. Although the kiss ended softly, he held your face firmly, his earlier intention still clear in his mind since leaving the house.

"You're my girl," he affirmed, brows serious and jaw clenched. Your blood was already pumping through your veins at that declaration. Your fingers found the first buttons of his shirt, undoing them coolly and freeing a bit of his bare skin while his words echoed in your head, his gaze intently fixed on you. Your hands slipped inside his shirt, and he relaxed as he felt you trail your touch from his chest hair to his shoulders. "Can I unbutton all of them?" you asked sweetly, anticipation lacing your voice. God, he wanted to show you right there that there'd never be anyone for him but you. He nodded, your trembling fingers undoing the last few buttons. It was cute how you got a bit flustered in these initial moments, as if you'd never been there before. He could never get much of that.

"I sorta need you," your breath hitched, and he chuckled, understanding. "I can feel it, little one," he took your hand in his and kissed it, then you traced the sharp line of his cheekbone and ran your thumb over his redness. He closed his eyes, and you found yourself melting into his embrace, adoring the more pronounced lines of his expressions, the way they smiled and relaxed along with him, making it clear that he didn't regulate his age with yours. But it was lovely. He was so attractive, in a way that was hard to keep up with when he was this close. You brushed his hair away from his face and touched your lips to his forehead, placing kisses along his nose, cheeks and down his neck, and over his shoulders until you found your way to his chest. Your body was restless, and while you might not have recognized it, he could feel the heat building beneath you. He let out a low grunt, spreading out across the seat as you wriggled on top of him, peppering him with kisses and playful bites.

"I think I should show you just how much you're my girl, don't you think?" His voice was firm, sending shivers to your soul. His hands were thicker, more striking than yours, and you couldn't help but notice the contrast. He motioned for you to stand in front of him, and you obliged. Things moved in their own time, but in your perspective, everything seemed to slow down, your stomach churning at the mere thought.

"I don't want any bad thoughts lingering in your head, not even the most fleeting ones, got it?" Still seated, he lifted the hem of your dress, placing wet kisses on your thighs until he reached your lower belly. His nose nuzzled into your skin, so gentle it made you feel slightly guilty for being this desperate. Alex chuckled as he observed how readily you lifted the fabric to give him better access, and with his eyes on you, he trailed his fingertips along your pulsating nerve, seemingly begging for his touch. You pulled back a little, but he shook his head. "Don't move, little one," he anchored your hip with a firm grip, his fingers circling the area, your body involuntarily pressing into his touch for more. He let out a deep, drawn-out sigh as he felt you make his tips sticky through the thin fabric. His throat tightened as his temples throbbed, his body yearning to feel you melt under his mouth as you always did so wonderfully.

Without dragging it out for too long, as he knew he wouldn't be able to bear it for much time, he delicately interlocked his fingers with the hems and pulled them down. His lips moistened as he saw the lace peel off you with some difficulty due to how damp it was. And sure, there was indeed a wet patch on your panties. For balance, you grasped his shoulders, squeezing eagerly with a pleading gaze, and he shut his eyes, kissing the area, his mouth watering and devoid of prior thoughts. He held you firmly in place and licked from the center up, gathering your essence on his tongue, his eyes closing in pure pleasure at being able to feel you. Yours clenched shut, and your mouth fell open as you experienced the warm sensation and perfect pressure of how he sucked you, as if it truly granted him as much bliss as it did for you.

You gently grasped the back of his head, urging him closer, and you could sense him smiling as you struggled to remain composed for him. As you caressed his soft hair, he nuzzled the tip of his nose against your clit before sucking it between his lips, causing you to moan so wantonly. He was already a mess, lost in your scent and taste enveloping him, while you panted breathlessly. When you opened your eyes and saw his hair, those delicate tresses, both ash and dark intertwined in a chaotic dance, you became a bit more alert, tugging on the strands to have him look at you. He deserved your attention that night too; you didn't want this to go unnoticed.

With his eyes locked onto yours, your body still trembling, you found your words stuck in your throat. He was just as desperate as you, though he concealed it well. The snug trousers he wore due to his position, and the zipper left open, which you only noticed now, made you wonder how uncomfortable he was. "Can I ride you, babe?" You were soft and mesmerizing to him. He appreciated how you always asked, an act so delicate for such a moment, but it had become characteristic, and he would certainly miss it if you changed.

"I want to be good for you," you whispered, and he couldn't deny that even if he tried as he shed the layers of fabric that held your disapproval. He marveled at how flustered and nervous you sounded, unable to control both your mind and your senses at the same time. And in a matter of seconds, you were on his lap once again, your head nestled on his shoulder as he kissed your neck and face. You began to grind against him, your touches growing more fervent.

As he burned against your skin, he lifted you, albeit clumsily, hoisting up your dress and letting you settle onto him with a prolonged groan, your needy hands clinging to his arm. You held onto him, your muscles quivering as you gazed into his calm eyes, his expression relaxed as you took your time to adjust to him. You were sore and wet, feeling him all over you, full and comfortable, even if not fully stretched due to your eagerness. But every second was worth it.

You worked your way onto him, lifting yourself slightly and settling back down, taking him all into you. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, husky and accentuated, filling you up completely. “Aren’t you, doll?”

His words took effect on you, and his gaze held the purest contentment as he watched you stumble through forming responses, not that he needed them. His movements were slow, letting you take the lead. Your lips were slightly parted, legs tightly wrapped around him. In fact, you were only holding yourself together because he was supporting you. The straps of your dress slipped to the side, gracefully as if watching a painting dry. Assisting you, he squeezed your thighs, using his thumb to press between your legs, exerting pressure on your clit. Your body immediately responded to the extra stimulus, and you collapsed onto him with a slight moan.

"It's okay, pretty girl, I've got you," he whispered amidst more persistent sighs, his hands gaining a rhythm against your hips, making your body more relaxed and ready to accommodate him. You rubbed yourself on him just beautifully. His lips grazed your collarbone, wet kisses and nips tracing over your exposed skin. He lowered the straps further, your breasts on display for him, in a gentle sway prompted by you. He took one in his mouth, your nails grazing him, marks he knew would be left, but he relished in it. He sucked on the flesh, releasing it with a wet sound before giving the same attention to the other, fingertips skimming over the erect nipple and then warm tongue soothing you through it all. He gave them time and attention, enveloping them slowly, taking it to himself until the tip of his nose was all dipped in your scent and then letting go cunningly, lost in desire. Your hands tangled in his hair, a sound escaping him as he rested his forehead against yours, leaving you even more soaked. Your legs grew sluggish, and you found yourself grinding against him more than riding, a detail he didn't miss. He lifted with you briefly, and soon you were lying on your back, him atop you. His face was still close, breath mixing with yours in the warm space between you. You clung to his shirt collar firmly, both for control and to keep him close, and he chuckled. "Please, I'm aching, Al," your vision blurred as tears formed, your body trembling without any movement from him. He trailed his nose across yours, his hair falling onto your face, which you brushed aside to kiss him better. You hugged him tight, curling into his chest, and gradually, air filled your lungs as your body was brought up and down with his.

"You're being so good to me. Look at what you do to me, fuck. How could you even think you're not just mine, and only mine alone?" His voice was disoriented, dark and staggered, clearly needing to focus intently to sound coherent. And then his gaze locked onto you, eagerly waiting to take in every last bit of it. He was gentle, even in his urgency, and you loved that he knew your body so well that you didn't have to tell him what you needed. With him deep inside you, feeling your senses growing restless, he braced his hands above your head, applying more pressure, your eyes closing as he held you tight to him. The tears running down your cheeks that would soon be kissed clean. He loved to watch it. He whispered soothingly for you to calm down, sweet nothings while he thrust you through that sensation until your mind was filled with his rough, broken moans as he peaked along with you. His body collapsed onto yours, the weight becoming comfortable, your fingers tracing lines along the spots of his back, and he didn't fail to kiss your exposed skin. "I love you," you said, breathless, his hand affectionately running over you.

 And you were right; you'd fall asleep next to him, entwined, and wake up with a clearer mind. You could already imagine getting up in his shirt, going to sit on his lap while he wore his glasses and had a book ready to be put aside for your more important presence. No one else could bring you the comfort he did. He settled beside you, both your breaths gradually returning to normal, and just before his lips brushed yours in a smile, he whispered in his lazy voice, "I love you, and I'm yours, only yours, my girl."

...

taglist: @ohladymoon @indierockgirrl @bloo-wisteria @bellaturner @cosmoschaotic @nikisfwn @andrews-lovr @nela-cutie @artimonkii @alexturnersbbg3

...

to be tagged you can just lmk or open my !google form! (you can decide in which ones you want to be tagged and also let you're request or thoughts there with me!)

[watermelonsloth]

The Boruto Designs for the Rookie 9 Make No Sense

(Note: I'm not mentioning the blank period designs because that's a post all on it's own.)

A lot of people have complained about the designs of Naruto's generation in Boruto and I can't blame them(I actually agree with most of the criticisms made), but the number one problem I have with them I haven't found voiced. That problem is that they have no rhyme or reason behind them.

I don't think that Naruto was the pinnacle of character design or fashion in anime or anything, but I did like it for one big reason. All of the designs made sense for the characters. To me all of the Naruto character designs come across as in-character because, not only do they fit the personalities of the characters, the changes in the designs(specifically between Part 1 and Shippuden) feel like the natural progression of their designs.

The designs fall into one of two categories: more mature versions of their last designs(for the characters that have changed during the time-skip outside of getting more mature) and significant changes(for the characters who did change during the time-skip, usually in response to the Sasuke Retrieval arc).

The more mature ones include Naruto(he got longer pants, a new headband, and shoes, and started wearing black), Hinata(she lost the fur, got more color and new shoes, and grew her hair), Shino(got more jackets and color), Shikamaru(continued to look more like a chunin), Ino(lost most of the bandages and arm things, and got elbow and knee protection), TenTen(getting longer sleeves and new shoes, and simplifying her color pallet), Rock Lee(got a chunin vest and lost his headband), and, I'd argue, Neji(swapped the color beige for white, got longer sleeves and a skirt, and lost all of the bandages). Every aspect of their designs can be chalked up to Kishimoto's art style simplifying or adjustments that make the characters look more mature or protected. When you put their old and new designs next to each other, they're the natural progression of their last outfit(and a beautiful example of "if it ain't broke, don't fix it"). Hell, if you know the characters well enough, you can probably imagine their thought process while they were out shopping(Hinata being embarrassed to still wear fur lining as a chunin, Shikamaru being tired of fighting to get his chunin vest over his jacket, etc.).

The significant changes match the characters who most needed a jump in practicality and probably went through character arcs related to taking their career more seriously. Sakura's outfit in Part 1 was cute but it was fashion over function. In Shippuden, she kept her hair short to avoid it being grabbed again, shortened her skirt for better mobility, changed her color pallet to look more mature, and got boots(with a heel, but it's low enough to be passable), elbow pads, and gloves for better protection. She's planning to seriously help Naruto find Sasuke and fight off the Akatsuki and her outfit reflects that. Sasuke has a very different outfit in Shippuden to reflect both his drastically different fighting style and his connection to Orochimaru. Kiba(changing into a more protective leather outfit) and Choji(wearing straight up armor and growing his hair out to better match his teammates) also fall under here and it's most likely in response to nearly dying on the Sasuke retrieval mission.

I'm not going over them, but the other members of the cast(if they even got a new look) also follow this trend.

The Boruto designs break this trend and give us worse designs because of it. At least that's the case for the rookie nine. Outside of the rookie nine, the trend continues and any complaints I have come down to personal preference. This time, their designs fall into three categories: salvageable, time moves forward and their clothes move back, and what the fuck?

The salvageable ones are Naruto and Ino. I can understand giving Naruto more black and shortening his hair to make him look older, I just think it could've been better and needs a second draft. Ino is fine just plain(something made worse by her being the most fashionista-like member of the Konoha 12). I'd say it also needs a second draft, but it doesn't. The anime just needs to start using her design in the Boruto manga(I know it's kind of hard to see since we don't get any panels showing it off, but it looks good from what I can tell).

The time moves forward and their clothes move back ones I have an easy to guess problem with. Kiba and Choji's outfits resemble their Part 1 designs much more than their Shippuden designs. Kiba lost the leather and Choji lost the armor despite both of them still being active shinobi. Instead of progressing, they regressed for some reason. Choji also cut his hair shorter. If they really wanted to give him a different haircut(because they insist on much of the cast having different hair), why not tie his hair into a ponytail to better match his teammates?

(I'm gonna give Sakura her own section since I have a lot to say.)

Remember when I explained how Sakura's more practical outfit in Shippuden denoted character growth? Well, that all went out the window. First, I have two nitpicks that I think add to the problem, but would probably be fine otherwise. 1. She's now wearing heels that not only remind me more of Tsunade than herself, but they also look bad for working in a hospital, let alone going on missions. 2. She chose to start parting her hair differently because... of reasons. This was literally the first thing I noticed about her design. I know this sounds super minor, but changes like these do impact character design and recognizability. However, the main problem is how many awkward call backs there are to her first design. The attaching part of her top is curved, the tail of her top(I don't know what else to call it) falls to her knees again, the Chinese elements of her top, and the white lining. In some ways, her design is actually worse. Not only is she wearing loose looking heels, but she's also wearing tight-fitting, non elastic pants. Why doesn't she dress like a ninja anymore??? What possible reason could there be for any of this??? I'd also like to bring your attention to her wearing make-up and jewelry. I like hyper-feminine characters. I especially like hyper-feminine characters that are also badasses. I don't think it's good character design to add hyper-feminine elements to the design of a character that has an entire moment dedicated to how their insecurity and resulting focus on their ability to live up to female expectations distracts them from their job and goals.

The what the fuck designs I have the most problems with. I'll do my best to keep my complaints to a reasonable length because I could do a full rant on all of them.

Shino is the easiest to explain. He lost the layers of jackets associated with his clan, he completely changed his hair, and he replaced his sunglasses with a weird thing around his head(I don't know what to call it). At first I was gonna say he more resembles his Part 1 design, but it doesn't resemble any of his designs. He looks like an entirely different character and I have no idea why Kishimoto changed him so much, let alone Shino's motivation in-story. Did they think he looked more like a teacher this way?

I don't even know what to say for Shikamaru. I can only assume that they said "We should give him a goatee like his dad" and then they gave up. He's wearing a black jumpsuit with a beige-ish green-ish jacket and brown gloves. I couldn't tell you why and I doubt Kishimoto could either. Why are his colors completely different from all his other designs? Why is he suddenly interested in wearing jumpsuits every day? Why is he wearing a necklace with a circle hanging from it(it's too big to be a wedding ring and Temari isn't wearing one(or any ring for that matter))? Why is he wearing gloves if he never goes on missions?

Technically, Hinata has three designs(one for the epilogue, one for the anime, and one for the Boruto manga), but all of my complaints are for the one used in the anime so that's what I'm gonna talk about. First, why is her design so busy? The art style used for the Naruto series has been getting progressively simple throughout its run time, so why does her design have so many unnecessary elements? Her hooded sweater is lined, she has three layers, her outfit consists of five different colors, and there's a little thing hanging off of her sweater. I know these all sound minor, but none of the other adults get this detailed. If anything, the others have designs that are too simple. The only exception, kind of, is Sasuke, but Sasuke is always covering his layers with a plain black cloak. Also, keep in mind, Hinata only has this problem with her anime design, her other designs are much more simple. Wouldn't it make more sense for the anime to use one of the simpler and better looking designs? Second, was there any thought put into her design elements? Her design looks so different from her Shippuden one that I feel like it would be a waste of time to list those differences. Just look at the two, they look completely different. If I had to guess, the only thought that went into her design was "how do we make Hinata look like a mom?" Which is a shame, because they should've been asking "how do we make Hinata look like an older Hinata?"

Last, we have Sasuke. Where do I even begin with Sasuke? Why is he suddenly wearing what looks like a button-up shirt and vest into battle? Why is there so much detail in his design if it's all gonna be covered by a cloak anyways? Why does he have two belts? Why is his hair brushed downwards? But, most importantly, why doesn't he look like Sasuke? It's not like the Shino situation where he looks so different he might as well be a different character, I can tell it's Sasuke, but he doesn't dress like he used to at all. He's the one character that it would've made sense to dress him like a more mature version of his Part 1 outfit and then they chose the worst characters for that instead. He doesn't even resemble his parents or Itachi at all. He doesn't resemble his clan at all. Nothing's really "wrong" with the design. It's not infuriatingly impractical or ugly and it only needs a few tweaks at worst. But it's probably one of my, if not my number one, least favorite Boruto design. It doesn't look anything like the character it's for and there's no in-story reason why that is.