#it's just that i'm soooo curious to where it's going with this . what are the villains motivations

[softtdaisy]

soooo thinking about bodyguard Hotch (as always) and inspired by the latest fic, I wondered what other characters think of how close Hotch and reader are getting when he's still "on the case"?

I'm a sucker for outsider perspectives and I'm sooo curious if the BAU gang suspects anything or maybe even the stalker's perspective on Hotch and reader 👀

keep on teasing me / Aaron Hotchner

summary. 5 times someone teased Hotch about the case, the one he did the teasing

words count. 4 593

what to expect. the team is here but nothing except for that

a/n. thank you so much for your request sweetie!! i didn't see the BAU as The BAU in this series i picture them more some kind of agency or i don't know but they're here and it was sooo fun to have them around so hopefully you love this 🤍

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1. the team meeting

“Agent Rossi, but you can call me David. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You watched as David extended his hand, only to take yours and give it a kiss. “Well, the same goes for you, David,” you replied with a soft laugh.

You noticed Hotch rolling his eyes next to you, and you pinched your lips not to laugh even harder. 

After you received yet another letter in your mailbox, the bureau decided to add new cameras and a security system to your apartment. Meaning, you had to leave for the day. Something you weren’t quite sure you understood, but you still agreed to.

Then again, you didn’t really have a choice when Hotch was literally pushing you outside this morning.

“It’s a great occasion for you to meet everyone,” he justified in the car while driving you to his office for the very first time. 

You didn’t realize you had never seen where he was supposed to be working until today. How funny he knew every single centimeter of your place, and yet you didn’t even know what type of wood his desk was made of. Or if he had pictures on it. Pictures of whom? That was another question. 

But he was right. You got to meet everyone. Seeing the real Derek, Emily, and Spencer you’ve seen on screen during the weekly meeting. Getting to meet the bubbly Penelope that was sending mail written in pink to organize every event you had to go to. You already knew Jennifer, the one who stayed with you when you had to get ready for a special occasion—after Hotch did once and left the room with cheeks redder than your lipstick.

“Maybe one of you can finally answer my question,” you said, your arms crossed on your chest once you were all in the meeting room. All their eyes landed on you, curious to see what could be on your mind. They were hiding many things from you—you didn’t need to know about the wannabe stalkers and those that defended you. 

You put your hands on the desk in a very professional way, bending over. Just enough for Hotch’s eyes to fall on your back and your ass for a second. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by David.

“Why can’t I be here while you put cameras all over my place?”

“Because” Spencer started in a low and calm voice that he could say anything, you would believe him. “It’s safer that you don’t know about all of them in case something happens. We know that people tend to look at things that could put them in danger when they feel threatened. And if your stalker comes into your place…”

“Which he won’t.” Hotch interrupted him.

“Well, yes, but in case he does, you won’t be looking at the cameras because you won’t know where they are, and there is a smaller chance that he will notice them.”

You nodded; his explanation was fair, and your first thought was right: you tend to believe everything this man said. “But if I walk around naked, that means you will all see me?” 

Sure, they laughed. You did too. It was a genuine question, but the situation was rather funny considering your case. Even Hotch let out a laugh, but mostly to hide his embarrassment at the idea. 

Nobody answered your question in the end, and the discussion went to other subjects: the following weeks, the events, the organization… always the same movie playing on repeat in the end.

After the meeting, the girls offered to get you a coffee, and you gladly accepted their offer to change your mind. And discover the office. “And I’ll show you Hotch’s desk!” was a very good argument too. 

Did he hear it? Yes. Will he stop you? No. 

He was ready to accept your teasing about his bland and boring office if it made you happy.

Instead, he stayed in the meeting room to organize the latest proofs and stuff they collected. 

“She has a point,” he heard in his back.

When he turned around, he wasn’t surprised to see David leaning against the door. 

“What if she walks around naked and doesn’t know where the cameras are?” he added with a cheeky smile. Because that wasn’t his main concern. That wasn’t what he really meant. “But now that I think about it, you’re always around, so if she walks around naked…”

“Stop it,” he groaned, turning his back to him again. If he couldn’t see his amused face, he could hear his laugh. And again, the heat grew on his cheeks. It happened already; he almost saw you in your underwear. When you left your room and forgot that your bodyguard was always around.

Or you didn’t forget at all? 

2. the recording studio

“One more take!” 

You happily nodded, putting your headphones back on your ears to get ready to record again. 

This was the first time since your case started and Hotch had been watching over you that you went back to the recording studio. You had been asking multiple times in the past. But until the team couldn’t secure a place, they kept refusing. More than once, Hotch offered that they build their own recording studio at your place. 

“The whole point is that I don't get to work alone, Aaron.” You told him over dinner one night when he put the offer on the table again. “I know what I can do, sure. But I also need some artistic view, and as much as I appreciate you, you’re not an artist.”

And so after meeting the team you were used to working with and talking with your producer a couple of times, Hotch finally agreed to bring you to the studio. On one condition: he was going with you. Something you immediately said yes to because “you’re going to see me in my best element.” 

Derek came with him, mostly to protect you from the fans when you would leave. They were already a lot when you arrived; they can’t imagine the number after the session. And two bodyguards were better than one. 

Meaning, on top of looking after you, Hotch had to look after his own reactions looking at you. Because you were right, you were in your element, and there was something magical in the way you lit up when you sang. You were living for your music. The words you wrote these past weeks were the happiest, which it wasn’t hard to understand why. 

More than once, he got lost in the beauty of the moment. Like there was nobody else in the room except for you and him. Like most of the time you spent together, to be honest. But it was…different. These felt more like a dream than the reality of what you were going through, putting the reason why Hotch was by your side all the time. He wished it would never stop.

When you started another song, this felt like another dream beginning. Another movie to start. The next episode of his favorite show. 

And the truth was, Hotch wasn’t even paying much attention to the words you were singing.

But Derek was.

“They couldn't have me, and they never will. And sometimes I hold you closer just to know you're real.”

“Wait a minute.” Derek whispered. Hotch immediately perceived the amusement and especially the teasing in his voice. “She wrote this song lately?”

Hotch didn’t move, or maybe just a little when he crossed his arms tighter against his chest. But his eyes didn’t leave you. Not for a second. “How am I supposed to know?” he replied in a sharp tone that would indicate he didn't want to talk about it more. 

Yet, he knew Derek Morgan more than anybody on this team. When this man had an idea in his head, there was little to nothing that could be done to change his mind. So he wasn’t surprised to see him make a step closer to the producer to put a hand on his shoulder. Neither was he when he heard him ask what the name of the song was.

“Bodyguard.”

You called that song Bodyguard. As much as he tried to stay focused on you, Hotch noticed from the corner of his eyes Derek turning his head to him and giving him a proud look. “Bodyguard,” he repeated, so low it was almost unhearable.

You sang the whole song, talking about the need to protect each other and being ready to do anything for their safety. And if it was more true on Hotch's side, it was the whole reason he was here in the first place. He could tell that there was some truth for you too. He knew that you had defended him already, for fun, when his teammates showed amusement about the situation and your complicity. For real, when you heard some people from outside questioning him—his ability or even his look.

He never felt unattractive, nor did he think he was the most handsome man in the world. But hearing you say there was no man you would rather have by your side than him built his confidence back. And having you sing it in a song that would probably be on your album was on another level. 

“I think I understand now why you don’t want to get rid of this mission.” Derek finally said when he walked back to Hotch.

Hotch, who rolled his eyes again and sighed, said, “Shut up.”

And Derek laughed again. Except this time, Hotch couldn’t contain his smile when you looked at him after finishing your verse. With a sweet smile, like you were waiting for his approval. Asking if he had understood what you were trying to say.

And his simple nod was the answer you both needed to say he knew. He understood. And he felt the same. 

3. the teasing 

“You know everything will be fine, right?” 

You found it ironic that you were the one reassuring your bodyguard.

You were sitting cross-legged on your sofa, watching as Hotch kept going back and forth between his room and the living room. Clearly more stressed about leaving than you were.

Sure, you did have anxiety about him leaving in the past. And sure, you loved having him around and wished he didn’t have to leave.

But Hotch had to work, and the girls offered to stay for the night. It could have sounded sexist that they were two when usually one man was enough. But JJ was doing the bodyguard job; Penelope was just looking for a good excuse to spend time with you. And a pajama party never hurt anybody.

He gave you a side look after putting his bag down on the floor. “How can you be so sure, exactly?” 

Was he being unfair? Yes, and he knew that. Hotch trusted his team with closed eyes. He never doubted them in any case. And he wasn’t even doubting them now.

But he couldn’t help the feeling that he was the one that could treat you the best. Maybe it was above the case situation. 

“Because the girls will be there, we are just going to talk and eat and drink wine.” You were enumerating each element with your fingers. Before opening your hands to show your outfit. “And I'm wearing my favorite pajamas; nothing can happen to me.”

Hotch rolled his eyes. Because he knew that fucking pajama too damn well. A pastel-colored tank and shorts that were showing too much skin for his own good. You had been wearing it many nights around him already. And his eyes couldn’t help but fall on your naked legs anytime you would sit by his side. And his mind was hoping silently that the fabric would go higher and higher on your thighs. 

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he mumbled in his breath before walking back to his room. Your feet were so light on the floor that he didn’t hear you either getting up or following him.

“Aaron Hotchner,” you laughed in his back. But he didn’t turn around, didn’t see you lean against the door or cross your arms on your chest, putting the almost see-through fabric against your skin. “Are you running away because of my pajamas?”

You smiled when you heard him laugh. “Yeah, sure, they are my next enemies after your stalker.” 

“Ouch, stalker mentioned before leaving? Not nice, Aaron.” You put a hand on your heart, pretending to be more hurt than you actually were. The reality was there, and you couldn't fight it, so at least you could laugh about it. When he turned his head slightly, just enough to give you a look, you noticed the amused smile on his face from your whole comedy. 

But you weren’t done with him. Not when he had the audacity to leave you for the night. Not when a low, low voice in your head was reminding you that you were scared Hotch could forget about you as soon as he closed the door—something that could never happen if you could actually read his mind.

So you walked to him, slowly. “Actually,” you started, sitting on his bed right in front of him. Perfectly in his sight, with your hands resting behind you, so his eyes would fall on your neckline. “I don’t think my pajamas are your enemies.”

And it did. His eyes fall on you and the trail of skin from your neck to your chest. “Are we seriously having the conversation?” he sighed. 

“I think,” you pursued, making your eyes go down on him very slowly. “That you actually loved them a lot. Maybe they are the reason why you have a hard time leaving tonight.” 

The clench on his jaw. The way he bit his lips. Or the way he turned his head to try to get rid of the thought that appeared—the one where he threw everything away to lay you on this bed and took these pajamas away from you. 

You knew you hit right.

“Hotch?” you heard from the living room.

The girls were there. The game was over, for now.

“We’ll talk about this later.” Hotch finally replied, pointing to you and the room and basically everything that was driving him crazy. He tried to gain composure back, pretending he was mad about your behavior.

But your only answer was a laugh. “Oh, I’m sure we will,” you continued laughing before joining the girls.

Giving Hotch one last look at your ass in these goddamn shorts that would last with him all night. 

4. The Stalker

It started as a beautiful and calm day.

Nothing planned. No meeting. No event. Nothing.

Just you writing a new song and Hotch working in his room. Sometimes you tend to forget these types of days could even exist, but they did. And you loved them.

You were lying on a rug, your legs on your sofa, listening to a melody you had composed a few days ago to find the perfect chorus when you heard Hotch’s door slam suddenly. “That son of a bitch.”

It was in these moments that you realized how much you trusted Hotch with your life. Because you didn’t even flinch a little as it was a sudden and loud reaction caused by God knows what. You simply waited for his figure to appear.

And he did. Oh, you almost forgot he had his glasses on when he was working on his computer. This explained the little smile on your face when you saw him, with faded blue jeans and a dark grey shirt that looked very nice on him.

“Something’s wrong?” you asked, looking at him from above. And he did look a little disappointed by your lack of reaction. But could you blame him? He was mad enough for two.

But instead of speaking, he handed his tablet to you. 

And you saw the reason for his anger—a very justifiable one now that you could see the cause.

A picture of you two in the street from three nights ago when you had a sudden need for Italian food. You had binge-watched a whole cooking competition on TV, and you were craving pure Italian food from the restaurant down the street. The thing was, they didn’t take online orders. Even when you were a famous singer or a convincing bodyguard.

So you and Hotch went there yourself to order too many dishes that you shared the very same night. 

Turns out, your stalker had been waiting for you. And made sure you knew about that.

“Your boyfriend looks pretty, but not as pretty as me, my love.”

Hotch turned his head suddenly. “Are you laughing?” But it was a dumb question. He could perfectly hear your sweet laugh in his ears, even from how far you were from him in this position.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, putting your hands up in the air while getting up. You had a hard time finding your breath again. “I can’t help it.” 

Hotch waited. And waited. Until you finally calmed down. But he was the one to freak out a little. When you landed your eyes on him. And when you put a hand on his arms, patting your fingers on his biceps. “He thinks you’re pretty.” 

That was the point that made you laugh. That he was pretty. And the worst part was that Hotch knew why. You had a whole discussion the other day on the difference between pretty, beautiful, and gorgeous. “You, Aaron Hotchner, are gorgeous,” you said in a very serious tone. 

You tried to explain that he wasn’t cute or pretty, not with his dark figure and the intensity of his look. He could be considered beautiful when he looked softer, like when he was relaxing. But he mostly looked gorgeous. You even said you wanted to put him in a music video because “that would make it work so much better.” 

So you laughed about the pretty part.

Not the boyfriend part.

“You realize how dangerous it is that he saw us?” he finally added, trying to get away with the idea that being called your boyfriend sounded satisfying for the both of you. 

You simply shrugged at his question. “See the positive side of it; at least he won’t approach me when you’re here. And you’re here all the time.” 

And just like that, you made it sound like it was a normal thing for him to be considered your boyfriend by others.

Hotch could clearly get used to it. Or make it real someday.

5. the jealousy

“I don’t like that.” Hotch said in his breath. It could have been missed, almost inaudible.

If Emily and he weren’t in the same room, in total silence.

She turned around, her hand still full of the chips she was eating. “You want me to grab something else?” she asked, her brows furrowed from the confusion. She asked him what he wanted to eat during the tailing tonight. He had a real nerve to complain now.

But Hotch turned around, even more confused than Emily was. “What?” He looked down at the chips bag in her hands and let out an amused sigh—at least he wasn’t too angry to forget how to laugh. “I’m not talking about the chips, Prentiss.”

“Oh,” she replied, taking another handful. “Then what are you talking about,��Hotch?” 

She had to wait again. Because suddenly the idea of saying out loud what had been on his mind all day wasn’t as genius as he thought it was. He was being an idiot, ridiculous, he would even say. That was his job. That was everyone’s job. And he had no right to say it wasn’t a good idea or that he wasn’t happy about “Oh, it’s about Derek taking care of her tonight, right?”

A groan. That was all Hotch could answer at the moment.

And a laugh. That was the only reaction Emily had to the situation.

“Are you jealous?” she finally asked after a moment. And maybe he was quick to reply that he wasn't. Too quick, he didn’t sound sincere at all. “Ok, you’re completely jealous.” 

It was a decision they made all together. Hotch was the very first to agree. After the stalker’s latest letter and the proof he had perceived the chemistry between Hotch and you himself, the team thought it would be safer to ask Derek to bring you to the premiere instead of him.

New face, new man, an easy way to confuse the stalker. And made him believe his threat was working.

Choosing Derek out of anybody was a good strategy. Sure, Spencer was good-looking but not as confident as his colleague. The girls would have been a great support, but they wouldn’t have made him jealous. And David was a great father figure, less of a lover—even if he was still talking about your compliments. 

Hotch had all the proof the team made the right decision when he saw the flash crackle when you walked the red carpet, with Derek following you closely.

The good option, right? Young, good-looking, funny, smiling…

“For what it takes,” Emily started again. And if she hoped he would put his eyes away from the view of you, looking so beautiful with your dark-colored dress and your hair up—in a way he could imagine his fingers brushing your neck—she was wrong. “She’s not with him like she is with you.”

No answer. But a sigh. A very subtle sigh that was a sign of relief. Because Hotch noticed it too, honestly. 

When Derek put his hand on your back, you didn’t take a single step back to cuddle against it—like you did with Hotch.

When Derek told a joke in the car, one they all heard and that made some of the team laugh, you didn’t laugh as hard as you did with Hotch—with your eyes showing your amusement, your head falling back, and a hand hitting his chest.

But mostly, anytime Derek was looking at you—definitely not in the same way Hotch was, but still—you weren't looking at him for as long as you did with him. Because anytime you were looking at Hotch, you were appreciating every single feature in his face like it was the last time.

“Oh boy.” Emily laughed, and this time, Hotch turned his head in disappointment. “You’re so falling for her.”

“Shut up.” Hotch finally replied. He saw the way Emily bit her lips, trying to contain her smile and mostly her laugh from his reaction.

And he was fighting too. Because she was so right. 

+1 

“I refuse!”

Running after Hotch wasn’t too hard in your apartment—it was big but not that big. Yet it felt like this man had a little too much fun making you run in a circle and going room after room without stopping walking. Will he even stop walking one day?

Well, yes, he did. Right in front of you. Meaning you stopped too, but only by hitting his back. “You don’t want me to do my job?” he asked with a soft laugh.

“That’s not what I mean!” You hit his chest—it was an easy target, right in front of you. But Hotch was quick to turn around and grab your wrist before you gave him another punch. Or whatever you were trying to do. 

“Just not with somebody else, hm?” You didn’t reply, but you frowned your brows so hard, in a way he was the master of, that he had his answer. 

Hotch had been called for a mission with a young woman, the ex-wife of a high politician that didn’t want to go alone to some charity event. For your defense, you stopped listening after you heard Aaron Hotchner and the name of another woman in the same sentence. It was a one-night thing; he would be back in the morning. Nothing very unusual from your routine.

Except for the fact it was Hotch with another woman.

And the idea of seeing a picture of him looking like a god—because you knew he would, he always did—with someone else was… “maybe,” you finally answered in a mumble that made him laugh harder.

Hotch could have been angry. If it had been any other client, he would have reminded them that they had absolutely no opinion to give about his job. His job was, indeed, his job. Actually, he already had dropped a case because of a jealous client. So yeah, he could have been angry.

First, if it wasn’t you. At this point, he would be stupid to not accept you as a client. You were…you. A great and wonderful woman that made his day much better, a friend that he wanted to cherish for as long as he could. And, well, whatever you were, that justifies your place in his head and heart. He could only accept your jealousy after being jealous himself seeing you with Derek. 

Second…well, because he wasn’t going to this case after all. He was called for it, and he had done the meeting, the organization. Everything was ready. And until a few hours ago, he was still on it, ready to spend another night with politicians—the thing he probably hated the most in his job. But he quit at the last minute. Spencer would go for him, and he would do a much better job at pretending to be interested in what these idiots would say—mostly to contradict them.

“That’s funny.”

You opened your mouth only to close it. And opened it again. “You think I’m funny?”

“Everyone kept teasing me about this case, saying I’m too involved with you, that my reactions are too much, that I’m too possessive. You teased me about not wanting to leave you.” It was hard to concentrate with his big green eyes stuck in yours and his fingers brushing your wrist like that. “But you are the one who refuses to see me go somewhere with someone else.”

You stayed like that, in silence, for a few seconds. You, frowning and pretending to be hurt. Him, with his proud smile that was only making you angrier. 

But in the end he was right.

It was fun to tease him about his feelings when yours just hit you in a quite violent way. 

So you took a step back, then another, before turning your back. “Blame a girl for being jealous,” you said in your breath before walking to your sofa and lying down. Pretending that stupid and arrogant—and many other adjectives you could find to describe Hotch that weren’t true—had already left.

But he hadn’t.

He looked at you. 

He could have told the truth.

He could have told you he wasn’t going there and he was just playing with you.

But instead he said, “You win.”

You didn’t even turn around. Didn’t even move. Which made him laugh even harder because he knew you were simply pretending not to care. But when Hotch walked closer to you, enough that he could put a hand on the sofa and tilted his head to look at you, he saw the smile on your face. The one you were trying to hide but couldn’t contain at the idea of him being by your side.

“I’m staying with you.”

And you both knew these words had more meaning than they were pretended to.

He was staying. Tonight. Maybe longer. Maybe forever. 

Tag List: @kiwriteswords @monzabee @raysmayhem-72 @kajjaka @pastelpinkflowerlife (if you want to be in it, ask me and I’ll be happy to add you x)

[starssoblue]

i need more episodes about adrien just trying new things and gradually figuring out what he wants to spend his time doing, what classes and hobbies he genuinely enjoys, and then eventually, what he'd like to pursue professionally. i never really thought about running before sublimation and while i still don't think that's actually his passion, i love that he connected the act of running to the freedom and joy he gets when he's being chat noir, running around paris saving people. one of my favorite things about adrien that a lot of people in fandom especially in fics miss is that just because he's decent or even great at several things doesn't mean he has a personal connection to that thing. in early ml he was acting in his friends' student films, playing sports to different results, fencing with his friends, participating in band, even modeling for fun. in climatiqueen, he discovered he was decent at drawing, a mess with labwork, quick with languages (no surprise there), and v new to baking—all things he could improve upon but nothing that made him feel passion. but he specified the reason he had fun trying those things wasn't the things themselves but because he was doing them with marinette, same as before when he took skills he was forced to acquire by his father and re-utilized them to hang out with his friends despite not feeling a personal connection to any of those hobbies or talents. i don't know if the show plans on him discovering this soon (they're sooooo young, i hate that he is even stressing about this just because his friends are not normal and because the french school system has most people declare their course of study in lycée) but i'm just excited to see him branch out and try new things and get the life experience he was denied when he was younger. 

and running away from the agreste manor (where he was confined and forced to be a perfect mold) as his first step toward self discovery? brilliant imagery.

[humanmorph]

i wish i spoke portugese because that scanlation of fool night on mangadex is almost 20 chapters ahead

[heroesbrine]

no way i just saw a whole ass adult use "pannie" derogatorily towards pansexuals without an inch of irony. can we grow up please. that is such a childish insult to use in genuine anger. i thought we were over this years ago

[wuntrum]

can you speak on your severance s2 opinions? i promise this isnt in bad faith or anything, im just anon bc im shy lol, im genuinely curious

i'm gonna put this under a read more because it's gonna be long but...yeah [scratches head] if YOU the person reading this looooved this season and see nothing you didn't like about it, thats awesome and i'm happy for you. i also liked things in this season, and also its normal to be able to critique things you like, love and light <3 its literally just television

generally, yeah, i found myself disappointed with it. i think the writing this season, both the dialogue and then the actual character/world writing, fell flat and/or seemed like it was completely incongruous with the characters and world that we had seen in season 1. i think something i really appreciated about season 1 is that yes, mark was our main character and the lens we got introduced to both the inside and outside world, but both felt so much BIGGER than just him.

season 2, the entire plot and world and characters bend and contort to make mark like, the center of the universe lol. it's kind of ridiculous, the extent to which the world revolves around him now. it makes the world feel SOOO small. parts of my favorite worldbuilding aspects are seeing how the outside world feels about severance--i think the part where we see how working as a severed employee makes it almost impossible to work anywhere else is great! and in concept i like seeing other towns that have been devastated by lumon's industrialization, though i don't love the execution that we got. so like...everything lumon does is about mark? ALL of it? i know we don't know exactly how long lumon has been operating but like...they've been working on this stuff for longer than two years, lol. like, how many files have dylan completed? irving? petey? that girlie who wrote the lexington letter? is all of their work literally meaningless? like i get that there were people before gemma who failed the tests and they died, sure, but what about when mark started working there? what about the files that irving started and didn't finish, why don't they care about those? ohhhh right, because that's not the one that mark's working on. i get that it'd be a big deal if they got it to work fully once, but surely they'd want to make it work AGAIN, right??? like a science experiment?? i just wish we got like, A nod to other people on the testing floor, because i think the implication is that all of them are working on files connected to…different people, but maybe they're all just different versions of gemma?

honestly all of the innie stuff this season just felt so…idk, aimless? it feels like parts of the building only exist when the writers want them to, and just generally are not interested in exploring anything outside of the romantic aspects for all of these characters. like sure, after the season 1 finale, their asses are not gonna wanna work (EXCEPT FOR WHEN THEY DO? TO MOVE THE PLOT ALONG?), but where's the camaraderie? what about all those other people in O&D, they literally export things to the testing floor, maybe they know about gemma? fundamentally i think the thing that's the most frustrating about innie mark is that they keep telling us that he doesn't care about gemma. which, sure, outie gemma, he doesn't have that same connection with as helly, whatever. but also, he DOES care about her, he literally knows that that's ms casey and that lumon was just going to do what they always do when they fire people????? like s1 mark cared soooo much about his coworkers, ALL OF THEM, even the ones that weren't there anymore—seeing petey and then ms casey get removed was like, a HUGE deal and vital to his growth as a character!!!! and the way that they constructed this whole season basically to remove everyone that isn't mark and helly by the end. lol. i'm honestly shocked that they didn't make a new version of the desk that was just two chairs, like dylan was just excluded from the finale except for when they needed him to come in and hold the door against mr. milchick. again. lol

i don't inherently have a problem with exploring the romantic stuff, i think that could have been done well, but i just don't think it was. and that's primarily because, i think the writing this season for helly was ass! they took away her agency and subjugated her to be just the love interest for mark! especially with the finale, i just feel like the helly i know would've been like mark, what are you doing??? go?!? like she wants to take down lumon, THAT's what will take down lumon! like whatever, mark made the choice that he did, but helly playing along with it makes no fucking senseee. like they want us to think that it's the same ol helly we know and love, they give us crumbs of her anger, like when she's rallying the marching band people or whatever, but again, only when it's plot convenient. WHY WOULD SHE NOT ATTACK JAME? he's like 90???? and helly doesn't like this man???? she has nothing to lose???? fucking THROW something at him helly!!!! the helly that tried to chop her fingers off and hang herself and gave that speech in the s1 finale is not in the room with us. and i don't mean this in a way where i think it's helena again, it's not. they've just completely fumbled her character because they want mark and helly to be together at all costs. and honestly, i think it's so reductive to make this show just about ships, but textually it feels like that's what they want us to do, and i think that's sad. again, it makes the show feel so SMALL, when the world within it used to feel so BIG and like we would want to learn more about it. i care about mark and helly--before they kissed!! i think it was rewarding to see the ways they challenged each other and grew as people!! them as a romantic thing could work but they haven't put in the work to MAKE it work. and, it feels like of redundant even to say, but i do think it's fucking ridiculous to write a story where we get kissing and fucking for allllll the straight characters and then the one gay couple doesn't even get a kiss before separating them completely and writing irving out of the show, basically. like what are we in, hayes code era television?

but yeah, the information they chose to reveal vs what they didn't was also frustrating. i honestly wish they revealed less! there's so much TELLING this season. it feels like they think we're stupid (which, i can't speak for the entire population watching the show, maybe some people literally do need mark to look at the camera and explain everything, idk). like there's sooo much clever storytelling in the first season that just, completely gets snuffed out from overexplaining. i understand in the finale that oMark needs to tell iMark about why he did all of this but like, WE as the audience already know??? we don't need to see this?? and cobel confirming stuff i feel like we already knew about how the numbers work and like, i just don't knowwww. like you can just show me it, i was picking up on it. like we know about the four tempers, you show it to us all the time, cobel having to look dead in the camera and explain it just made me feel like there was a better way we could've done this. i do think some stuff benefits from a "hard" confirmation. like i'm glad they confirmed the helena thing, BECAUSE it backs up and supports all of the lovely and subtle things they had already shown to prove that it WAS helena! like i've known since the first episode LOL, so they do KNOW how to do subtle storytelling. and i think the gemma episode was great, i loved seeing her as a character and thought it gave her so much depth. but again, i think allll of the explaining they do this season not only snuffs out the fun of speculating on the viewing end, but from a writing perspective it just kind of writes them into a corner. i think they're focused too much on making these elaborate set pieces and events take place without thinking of how they fit together, not only on like a writing/episodic level but just the world of lumon at large.

i think a great way they showed story in the first season is through the paintings, and through irving and burt bonding over the paintings! like it not only establishes the lore of kier and then we get to learn more about them as characters through their reactions to the paintings. the paintings this season, honestly, were weak, they were so heavy handed. love and light to whoever painted them, but they were nottt doing the job for me.

(this is a small thing, but like…the intake questionnaire asks them to "name a US state or territory," so they KNOW that delaware is a state. so why would they think the equator is a building? again its just like. a cutesy moment for mark and helly to banter but they could've done it in a way that isn't contradictory to like, our understanding of what information crosses over the sever and what does not).

i keep thinking about the ORTBO, and it just seems fucking CRAZY to me that they aren't freaking out about SEEING THE SKY? BREATHING FRESH AIR? FEELING FIRE? SLEEPING?? WASN'T THE WHOLE THING THAT THEY COULDN'T FALL ASLEEP???? i guess my impression of how the chip works is that the technology doesn't know how to handle when they enter a subconscious/asleeep state, so the innie and outie memories begin to bleed together, hence why dozing would be a bad thing on the job. but again, they clearly had this idea of how they wanted irving to reveal that it's helena in the waterfall, and yes, i did enjoy the spectacle of the episode, but its another example of how they'll build these moments and only focus on what they want to see. like there's so much interesting stuff that they could explore and just choose not to, because (usually) it doesn't involve mark, or mark and helly.

also, i'm just gonna say it, i feel like the writing for the women this season all was kinda bad! it's, again, a byproduct of the world revolving around mark now. reghabi is brought into the story when mark needs her, and cast aside when he doesn't want her anymore. devon has been completely reduced to mark's lackey, like i guess ricken and the baby are fucking fine or whatever??? because she only exists when mark is around, and her only job is caring about mark (which obviously yes, they're siblings, of course they care—but s1 devon had a life outside of mark as well). cobel is only brought back into the story to explain to mark how cold harbor works. i said this before but honestly i like the concept of her little solo episode, though the execution wasn't great, because at least she was doing something on her own (except for when she needs that guy to help her. heaven forbid a woman does something of her own accord without a man to help). and again, helly is completely flanderized to be mark's love interest. i think there's a way to have mark and helly be together and them be their own people, but for the length of the season they did not have the proper time to unpack all the shit from the ORTBO episode so everyone just…conveniently gets over it very quickly, like in the span of a day. like i do think it's a jump to go from "i don't trust you, are you even you?" to missionary under plastic tarps that quickly, i'm sorry. and i think even gemma suffers from this fate as well. i think with hers it makes more sense, like she fucking loves her husband, but i wish she was given opportunities to like…want things for herself, too. like she hasn't been outside in two years! i bet she misses her job, her students, her family, devon, ricken, like anyone outside of mark? but she has to be the tragic love interest that can't be with mark but can't run away from mark, either. she's reduced to set dressing for mark and helly by the end.

they constructed this season i think, with the hopes and knowledge that they'll likely get a season 3. which yes, we know now that it's been confirmed and approved or whatever, but they didn't know that when making season 2, and it feels like no one got a full character arc. it's all start and no follow through. we've had the same "mr. milchick experiences racism in the workplace" moment like what, five, six times, and yet we haven't even started to see him DO something about it yet? like sure he told mr. drummond to eat shit, but then to play along with the minstrel show cold harbor shit, they just didn't care about giving that plot line any action so it'll just get brushed along to season 3. (and while there's intentional commentary about race in the show, it also feels like there's unintentional consequences to their writing choices that upholds the whiteness. like, natalie is just forgotten about, reghabi is dropped as soon as mark doesn't want to play with her anymore, ms. huang barely gets to do anything before being written off and sent away, and yes, i do think having gemma suffer as mark and helly skip away is part of it. it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, sorry!). i think dylan is maybe the closest we get to an interesting arc, and i enjoy the inclusion of his wife, but even he's reduced to JUST this story, only getting to talk to mark or helly when the writers need him to, i guess. and the stuff with burt and fields is so nothing, like it feels like it should be going somewhere but they're just leaving it open for season 3 (i guess??? even though it seems like irving isn't going to be in it at all, so why would we be following burt and fields??? and also don't even get me started on how the outie irving stuff is just NOT EXPLORED AT ALL. like whatever sure who the hell cares, sorry for wanting to see that go somewhere or whatever).

it's too early for full reintegration to happen so, we'll just finish that in season 3. (then why introduce it so early in season 2? ohhh right, we need cliffhangers to end every episode on). it almost feels like they don't have faith that people will keep watching without introducing these dramatic moments, but it's all just gasps of breath, there's no actual momentum. like, i've already watched the first season, you don't need to bait me with the prospect of seeing meaningful progression and then take it away from me when the next episode starts. the structure of how episodes speak to each other is that they…don't? like obviously i don't need every episode to pick up on the exact moment the last left off, but the timeline of this season is just soooo strange. the first two episodes are in the same span of time, and then there's gemma and cobel's episodes back to back…it genuinely just feels like they didn't consider the season as a whole which, considering how much money and time it took to make it happen, makes no sense.

and to continue on the timeline aspect, it feels so confusing as to how much time has really passed. it feels like the wanted the structure of the first season, but the pacing mechanic of the first season (working up to the end of the quarter to get to the waffle party) makes the pacing of the second feel even worse. like a.) mark's completed like 3 files a quarter (if we assume he's worked there for 8 quarters, i.e. two years), so making THIS file the super special final one truncates the possible time by at least a third.but then also, b.) he's been at like 95% complete since like, episode 5..? again, i just think it should've been considered more during the planning stages. and it kind of boggles my mind that the creative team views the marching band in this finale to be analogous to the waffle party in s1 when, it's way closer to the music dance experience? (they said this in the like behind the scenes for the finale ep). and in that regard, it really does kind of feel like a retread that doesn't work as well because, again, it's all about mark! especially after the shit with the kier statue, why would mr. milchick play along with the song and dance, like it just feels like they wanted to use tramell tillman's dance experience again, and they wanted to use the colored lights again. he could've just stood by the door to make sure mark and helly stayed there, which was obviously the goal of having all those people there. and yeah, i get the work is mysterious and important or whatever, but the implication that they have ALL OF THESE PEOPLE whos sole job is to be a marching band makes no fucking sense, i'm sorry. i find it hard to play along with the worldbuilding, again it makes lumon seem like its run by like dr. doofenshmirtz or something, it's so cartoony. like are they a global and successful company, or are they incompetent and leave gaping holes for their employees to undo everything? this is THE MOST IMPORTANT DAY IN LUMON HISTORY and they couldn't…shut the door to MDR like they had before? the goat sacrifice room is directly outside the exports hall door? the music dance experience works so well as a catharsis moment because everyone has their own shit going on, and we get to see the guy who hasn't really disobeyed yet (dylan) finally snap, and we see the others come and support him as a TEAM. it's just spectacle for us, the viewer. and especially the thing where they make the panels with mark's face on it—HE CAN'T SEE IT???? i don't need fan service winking moments like that, i dunno, that just annoyed me lol.

anyway, i feel like i have more to say probably but i gotta go do things so, i'm gonna leave it here. in conclusion, i'm missing my friends from s1 MDR sooo so bad, i feel like i haven't seen them this season at all. i did like parts of this season, but overall it was not what i was hoping it would be. (i don't even really KNOW what i wanted it to be, and of course it doesn't matter what i "want," but i feel like what i "want" lined up with what they wanted to do explore with season 1 so…maybe that's where the dissonance is coming from). and whereas at the end of s1, where i left it being like "where are they going to go from here?? (as in, theres so many possibilities", this season finale has left me asking "…where are we gonna go from here?" because i'm left like, inherently incurious about the people we have left and the choices they've made. and, i feel like THEY (as in the executive team making it) must feel this way too, because apparently they've completely scrapped the writers room from this season and added on two new showrunners. good luck to whoever that executive story editor is LOL

[this-is-tiny-mia]

Reply All (H.S. Fic) | Chapter 1

General Masterlist fratboy!harry x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N and Harry were childhood best friends, inseparable through every laugh, secret, and growing pain. But high school brought unspoken feelings and decisions that tore them apart, leaving both with unanswered questions. Years later, a class project challenges them to face their shared past and uncover the truths they’ve both been running from. And a wrong click unveils the past and what will be the future. A/n: omggg my first series!!! i'm so so so excited for this one, i literally wrote this sooo fast cause i was soooo excited! i hope you all like this too! let me know any feedback you may have. Thanks to my one and only @eileenrry for being my designated proof reader 💖 Word count: 3.4k Warnings: This part has a lot of angst, and the series WILL HAVE smut, so +18 (not on this part tho). Mentions of alcohol, smoking, betrayal.

“Do you want to sit with me?” Said a soft voice, tiny, cutest at it’s best. Your tiny hands were clenched around the straps of your oversized backpack, and even though you were small too, everything around you felt impossibly big—the chairs, the poster boards on the wall, the toys lined up in the back of the room. You felt like the smallest, quietest flea. You weren’t the kind to make noise; you liked to keep to yourself, tucked safely behind your mother’s legs, where the world couldn’t quite reach you.

So when your parents sat you down and said you’d be moving to another city, the world tilted. Everything became a blur of cardboard boxes and goodbyes. You had to choose which plushies to keep, which ones to let go—and somehow, even at that age, you knew those choices mattered. You were so young, but you remember it like it was yesterday. Not just because it was the first time life ever truly scared you, but because it was also the beginning of something. Because that’s how you met Harry.

So when that tiny voice said, “Do you want to sit with me?” you turned your head and saw him—a curly-haired boy with big green eyes and lashes so long they looked like they’d been painted on. He was just looking at you, calm and curious. And all you could do was nod and take the empty seat beside him.

His table was a mess of color and chaos—crayons scattered everywhere, a pencil poorly sharpened on both ends, and an eraser that had once been white but was now stained with every color imaginable. His workbook lay open, half-filled with scribbles and drawings, and across the top in big, uneven letters, it read: Harry.

“Y/N,” you whispered, barely louder than a breath, unsure if he even heard you.

He glanced up, then gave a small nod and a crooked smile. He didn’t say anything, but it was enough. He seemed a little shy too—not as much as you, of course—but just enough to make you feel like maybe you weren’t alone.

🌷

Shy questions turned into giggles soon enough. It turned out you had more in common than you ever expected—both from different cities, both fans of mixing vanilla and strawberry ice cream, and both a little hopeless at math. It was the kind of quiet connection that didn’t need much explaining; it just was.

"Can you lend me the pink crayon?" he asked, eyes focused on the page in front of him, carefully coloring inside the lines of his workbook.

"No," you said, without hesitation.

He looked up, clearly offended. "Why not?"

You shrugged, holding the crayon a little closer. "Because it’s my favorite one."

He blinked at you for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to be mad—then smiled like he’d just learned something important about you.

🌷 The class pictures from the early years of middle school began to pile up, slowly forming a little bundle alongside birthday snapshots and silly, candid moments. What once were debates over whether dolls were better than dinosaurs had turned into whispered promises of being best friends forever.

There was a problem with that. It was called high school—or maybe it was called hormones, or growing up, or feelings, or the chaos of social interactions. It was trying alcohol for the first time, coughing behind Harry’s house after taking a sip that burned too much. It was wheezing with laughter after trying a cigarette he somehow managed to swipe from an old lady at the bus stop.

There were countless school dances where the two of you showed up as best friends—even when a girl got the courage to ask Harry, and he politely turned her down. It was like a secret everyone knew, yet somehow, not fully spoken. Something unconfirmed, but undeniable. You two were untouchable in the eyes of the rest of the school—not in a popular, flashy way, but in a quiet, unbreakable one. No one ever teased you about being a couple, but, They knew. Harry knew.

You? You were a bit oblivious.

And then it happened—at a definitely not parent-supervised party—your first kiss. His first kiss. But not with each other.

"Y/N! Your turn!" called Aria —the redheaded girl who, after Harry, was the one you trusted most. She was the one you talked to about period stuff, what to wear, the latest makeup trends, and gossip about the newest hot celebrity.

You looked at the bottle spinning in front of you. Classic. You weren’t even sure why you agreed to join the game in the first place—but then again, most teenagers don’t really know why they say yes to things at parties. Especially when alcohol is disguised as “Just flavored water, Dad, I swear.”

The bottle spun in what felt like slow motion—maybe because of the flavored water in the red cup you were holding, or maybe because you were too busy scanning the circle, trying to figure out which of the guys would be the least awful choice for your first kiss. Of course, there was Harry—though at the time, you were completely oblivious to how nervous he looked. You wouldn’t have minded kissing him; actually, in the roulette spinning inside your head, he was your first choice. But not because you wanted to kiss him—more like, because you really didn’t want to kiss any of the others.

When the bottle finally stopped, the tip pointed at Phil. You gave a small, nervous smile. Not because it was Phil. Not even because it wasn’t Harry. Just because it was your first kiss. And as the group broke into a chorus of “oooh!”s, you leaned in and had it—your first kiss.

It was short. Dry. No spark. Just a kiss.

And kind of the same thing happened with Harry.

When it was his turn, the bottle also seemed to spin in slow motion—at least for you. Your brain kicked into the same overthinking mode, running through the roulette of girls he could possibly kiss. The only one you didn’t mind was Ivy—the shy new girl who was moving away soon, so it didn’t really matter in the long run. You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath until the bottle landed on her, and you exhaled quietly, telling yourself it was fine.

What you didn’t stop to question was why you’d been thinking all of that. Or why your chest felt tight and hot with jealousy when you watched Harry lean in and press his lips to Ivy’s.

It was quick. Innocent. But still, it stung.

After the kiss, Harry didn’t even glance at Ivy. He looked straight at you. And you looked right back, both of you smiling—soft, uncertain. No words needed. At this time it was like you both telepathically communicated. The OMG we just had our first kisses. It was written all over your faces.

As time passed and 10th year rolled around, everything seemed pretty normal between the two of you—or at least, you thought it was. Nothing about Harry felt off. Nothing seemed different. Until that one Math class.

"The next assignment will be in pairs. Choose and write your names on this list on your way out," the teacher announced. The classroom erupted in whispers and shifting chairs as everyone scanned the room for their ideal partner. But you didn’t even glance around—you didn’t need to. You and Harry were always partners. Always. It was just a given.

But then, you heard his voice beside you. Heard the sound of his finger tapping on Theo’s shoulder in front of him. And then the words that made your stomach twist.

"Do you want to be partners?" Harry asked.

Theo looked just as confused as you felt. He even glanced back at you for a second, like he was waiting for some kind of explanation. But you had nothing to offer—your face mirrored his.

"Uh… yeah?" Theo replied, hesitant.

"Perfect. I’ll text you after school," Harry said with a shrug, already moving on.

You sat there, mouth slightly open, heart racing with that slow, creeping sting of being blindsided.

"What was that?" you asked.

"What was what?" he said, feigning innocence—but you knew him too well. He knew exactly what he did.

"Why did you ask Theo? What about me?"

He shrugged again. "What about you?"

"What—Harry, we’re always partners."

"I know… it’s just..." He sighed. "We’re both kinda bad at math, and I figured I should pair with someone who can, you know… help me out a bit."

You stared at him. That wasn’t the truth. Not fully. You knew it. You felt it.

But the clock was ticking, and you didn’t have time to process it—let alone find a partner who wasn’t a complete disaster. So you swallowed it. The confusion. The hurt. The shift. And kept moving.

You tried to brush it off the first time. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. But then it happened again. And again. And again. Then he transferred to different classes entirely. Each time came with the same excuse: “I’m just trying new things.” You questioned him—of course you did. Over and over. But it was all nonsense. Every conversation either turned into a fight or ended with one of his hollow, careless excuses.

So you stopped. You decided not to waste any more time chasing someone who clearly didn’t want to be caught.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell. Him sitting at different tables during lunch? Level 1. Choosing other people for group assignments? Not answering your texts? Level 2. Taking a completely different route home just to avoid walking with you? Level 3. Laughing—no, giggling—like he was having the time of his life with people who weren’t you? Level 4.

There were tears. So many tears. And there were questions. A constant, suffocating loop of them. Was it something I said? Something I did? Was I a bad friend? But no answer ever came. Just more silence. And more tears.

You weren’t technically alone. You had other friends. But you didn’t have Harry. You didn’t have the one who could read you with a glance. The one who could sense your mood from just the tone of your “hello” in the morning. You didn’t have the one you wanted.

Harry wasn’t there anymore. Not for the 3 a.m. calls when you couldn’t sleep. Not to debrief the daily drama. Not to groan through math class or whisper jokes behind textbooks. And worst of all…As time passed, he wasn’t there for your first heartbreak. He wasn’t there for prom. He wasn’t there to hold your hand when you both tossed the graduation caps into the sky.

He was gone.

🌷

It wasn’t really a surprise when you both looked up and locked eyes in the same introductory group on the first day of college.

Neither of you had talked about which colleges you were applying to. Neither of you knew what the other wanted. Because by then, communication had been reduced to absolutely nothing—0%. Silence and space had taken over. So no, it wasn’t exactly shocking when you ended up in the same college. Same career path. Same group. Because the truth was—you’d always been similar.

You’d dreamed similar dreams. Wanted similar things. And no matter how hard you tried not to be, you were always pulled in by each other’s gravity. Even if you didn’t want to admit it. Even if you swore you were over it. Even if you told yourself it didn’t matter anymore.

There he was. Harry.

And suddenly, the air between you was thick with everything unspoken.

Either of you could’ve asked to transfer. Changed groups. Switched classes. Taken the easy way out.

But neither of you did.

Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was the silent, mutual attempt to prove there was nothing left between you. That you were both mature enough. That you could handle being around each other. Just classmates. Just two people, casually coexisting in the same space.

But the truth?

The truth was that something deeper—something neither of you could name or admit—was keeping you both exactly where you were. You swore it was you just being mad but maybe there was a kind of magnetic pull that wasn’t strong enough to bring you together, but just strong enough to keep you from walking away.

You didn’t even tried to talk to him, or even look at him, always avoiding as much as you could, 

Your roommate, Juliet, noticed it from day one. The way your entire posture shifted when Harry entered the room. And of course, how you never actually looked at him, not for longer than a blink.

Juliet was bold, blunt, and had a talent for digging into things you weren’t ready to unearth.

“You two have history,” she said one night, cross-legged on her bed, spooning peanut butter out of the jar like it was therapy. “You don’t flinch like that for someone you barely know.”

You rolled your eyes. “We used to be friends. That’s all.” not even bothering to look up from the book in your hands

“Right,” she said, dragging the word out like it had a hundred letters. “And I ‘used to be’ a vegetarian”

She didn’t let it go. She was always trying to get you to talk to him. “Just say hi like a human,” she’d whisper. Or “What’s the worst that could happen? You explode?”

But she didn’t know the weight of it all. She didn’t know that silence between you and Harry wasn’t empty—it was loaded. History, hurt, heartbreak—all packed into every glance, every ignored moment.

Still, Juliet was relentless. And part of you—maybe the part that still remembered how it felt to laugh with him—was kind of glad she was. Beneath all that pain and being mad at it, there he was your Harry, your best friend.

You stopped going to college parties. At first, it was subtle. A few “maybe next time”s.A couple of “I have a headache”s. But Juliet caught on fast.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” she said one Friday night, standing in front of a mirror, fixing her hair while you curled up under your blanket like it was a shield. “You’re not going because of him, aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Because the idea of walking into a room and locking eyes with Harry—of pretending you didn’t notice each other, or worse, pretending you were fine—made your stomach twist.

“I just don’t want it to be awkward,” you muttered.

Juliet scoffed. “It’s college. Everything’s awkward. You think Harry’s out there dancing on tables and living his best life?” She paused. “He never goes either, you know.”

That made you sit up and frown “What?”

“I’ve literally never seen him at a single party. Not even the ones his friends throw,” she said. “You two are like magnets repelling each other, except you’re both convinced the other one wants nothing to do with you.”

You stayed quiet, but her words stuck. Because you hadn’t considered that maybe—just maybe—he was avoiding it too. Not because he didn’t want to see you… But because he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Of course it was. He was Harry.

That realization didn’t make things easier. It just made your heart ache in a different way.

🌷

It was just another Thursday. Gray skies outside the window, students half-asleep in their chairs, laptops open but barely touched. You were already zoning out when Professor Merrick’s voice cut through the hum of the classroom.

“For your next assignment,” she said, tapping a stack of handouts on her desk, “you’ll be creating a personal narrative. Think of it as storytelling with a purpose—an exploration of the moments that have shaped you.”

You blinked. “What kind of moments?” someone asked from the back.

“Anything that’s changed you,” Merrick replied. “A loss. A revelation. A success story. A moment of heartbreak or clarity. Something real. Something raw.”

A collective groan passed through the room.

“And,” she added, lips twitching into the faintest smile, “you may do it solo, or… in pairs. Your choice. But if you choose to work with someone, the project must reflect both stories—how they intersect, mirror, or clash.”

You felt your stomach drop. This was the kind of assignment you hated. Not because you couldn’t do it, but because you could. You had too much material. And you knew exactly what your story would be… if you were brave enough to tell it. You didn’t look at Harry, who sat two rows across and one seat behind. But you could feel him. That weird awareness that never really went away.

Juliet leaned over, whispering, “You’re doing it solo, right?”

“Obviously,” you whispered back, already scribbling ideas down just to look busy.

But still, your heart thudded louder than before. Because even if you hadn’t looked at Harry, he had looked at you.

Professor Merrick began passing the handouts down each row, but you barely glanced at the paper when it reached your desk. The words blurred together—“personal narrative,” “emotional depth,” “authentic voice”—all sounding a little too close to home.

“As always,” she said, stepping back in front of the board, “I’ll be sending the full assignment details to your emails this evening. Requirements, due dates, guidelines—all there. This is not just about writing well. It’s about honesty. And trust me, I’ll know when it’s not real.” A low murmur rippled through the class again.

“You have until Monday to choose whether you’re working solo or with someone. If you pick a partner, let me know by then. Otherwise, I’ll assume you’re flying solo.” She smiled faintly, but there was something knowing in her expression.�� Like she enjoyed watching students squirm under the weight of their own unspoken stories.

“Alright, that’s all for today. Class dismissed.”

Chairs scraped the floor as people stood up, stretching and groaning. You shoved the handout into your bag without a second glance.

Juliet nudged you as you walked out. “Maybe this is your sign.”

You frowned. “Sign for what?”

She raised an eyebrow. “To tell the story you’ve been dying not to tell.”

You didn’t answer. Because the thought had already crossed your mind. And because behind you, Harry was still sitting at his desk, staring at the same sheet of paper you hadn’t read either.

🌷

Days later, you were curled up on your bed, laptop perched on your knees, the soft hum of lo-fi music playing from your phone. The Word document on your screen was still blank—just a blinking cursor mocking you, waiting for the first sentence that refused to come.

You had typed and deleted the same line four different times. Nothing sounded right. Nothing felt right. Your story was too tangled. 

And then, like some cruel joke, your email pinged.

New Message: STORYTELLING PROJECT CLASS 305 — Personal Narrative From: Harry Styles To: Class 305

You stared at the subject line, confused. You hadn’t spoken in weeks—not even a polite nod in the hallway. Why would he be—

Then you clicked.

And everything shifted.

The message wasn’t meant for you. It wasn’t meant for the whole class. It was clearly written for one person—Noah. He was asking if Noah would be his partner, saying he didn’t want to do the project alone.

“I was thinking of writing about losing my best friend. Her name’s Y/N. She’s also in the class. I was in love with her. I never told her. I pushed her away because I thought if I kept my distance, the feelings would fade. But they didn’t. I made it worse, got out of my hands, I lost her anyway. But of course i can’t mention her name or make it too obvious it’s about her so i figured i could use a partner to help”

Your heart stopped. Again.

“Anyway, It was my fault. I thought I was protecting something, but I ended up breaking it. I don’t know if your story’s anything like that. Just figured I’d ask. Also, can I get your number?”

You sat frozen. For a second, your brain refused to process what your eyes had read. The story. The feelings. The name. Your name.

And then you realized it—he had clicked Reply All. You weren’t supposed to see this. No one in the class was supposed to see this.

You blinked, staring at your screen in disbelief, heart pounding loud in your chest. It was like someone had dropped a confession straight into your lap, and now you didn’t know what to do with it.Because the problem wasn’t that Harry had sent it everyone

The problem was…Everything in it was true. PART 2

Taglist: @hermionelove

[minwonsgirl]

cupcakes and kisses.

— mingyu x gn!reader

— fluff without plot and soooo self indulgent it's crazy

— contents : established relationship, kissing, sexual tension, kissing, suggestive content, kissing, baking, did I mention kissing

"Thank you for your purchase I hope you have a good night!" the cashier wishes while giving you your pack of rainbow sprinkles.

you smiled at her and walked out into the streets so that you could make yourself back home. the sun was just setting in, and people every where were rushing back. you were in no hurry though, your apartment was just down the block and your boyfriend was still busy whipping up some vanilla frosting.

thats why you came out in the first place, he was making cupcakes for movie night, but ran out of sprinkles for the funfetti frosting. and you, being his little minion helper, volunteered to get him some.

you were an amazing cook when it came to breakfast or brunch, but baking on the other hand, hah. baking was completely out of your expertise.

you once tried to make cookies, but they neither spread nor softened and came out as rocks. they were so inedible that even the ants wouldn't touch them. you remember getting rid of them by chucking them at your brother whenever he annoyed you.

when you finally reach your apartment, your boyfriend calls put your name, and you quickly change into your home slippers and run towards him.

"I'm here I'm here" you said, sprinting towards him with a large smile on your face. mingyu smiles back at you but doesn’t stop his mixer-blender-thing from working, "did you get the sprinkles?" he asked, his head tilting to the side in a very cute manner.

you raise the pack of sprinkles and wiggle it a little to show off your excitement. mingyu lifts one of his hands up, like a gate, and you immediately step inbetween them, successfully trapping yourself in his arms.

he turns the mixer-blender-thing off and plops his head on your shoulder, watching you tear off the packet with your teeth and pour a generous amount of sprinkles in the bowl.

mingyu had a habit. his friends would always tease him about it, but honestly he found it quite cute. It was not his fault he found everything you did so endearing that he just had to stare at you as if you were hanging the stars on the sky.

it was not his fault you were so pretty to look at, with your perfect lips and perfect eyes. or the way you looked the best when you were busy. it wasn't his fault.

you found that staring habit of his cute too. but that's probably because you did the exact same thing. but were you really to blame when everything mingyu did was absolutely perfect. especially when he baked, his concentration and attention to detail always made you proud. so it most definitely wasn't you fault either.

when you were done pouring out your sprinkles, you hummed contently and waited for him to start the blender again. but he doesn't move. you look up at him with a raised eyebrow, "something wrong, babe?" you asked, worry flashing in your eyes.

you expected him to come out of his trance, but he just shakes his head side to side, with the same look in his eyes. then he thinks for a moment before his lips moved into a tiny smile and he nods his head, "yes" he said, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head.

mingyu let's go of the hand blender and grabs your waist to turn you around to face him. you give him a curious look and he just winks at you. then he turns you both around and picks you up on the kitchen island behind him.

he buries his head in your neck and trails sweet kisses all the way up to your ear. you wrap one hand around his waist and the other around his neck, your fingers playing with his hair, and you giggled whenever his kisses would tickle you.

this was normal, mingyu always kissed you every chance he got. but he always bothered to make up a stupid excuse before it, which is exactly what lead you to ask, "why so touchy, baby?"

"need to kiss my pretty baby" he said casually, as if he did this every day (he did). you laughed and let him place strategic kisses in all the right places. your forehead, the space between eyebrows, both your cheeks, and every single mole on your face.

when he finally reached your lips, you cup his cheeks. he leaned in to ever so slightly brush your lips, he releases a breath and pulls away kissing the corner of you mouth instead, you feel your heart grip itself.

he pulls away and smirks when he sees the shiver, he caused, go down your spine. "so needy for my kisses, yeah?" he asked, a smug grin taking over his smile.

you hadn't realised that the tension had caused your hands to slips down to his chest and hold his favorite jumper in a fist. you pulled him closer towards you, "need you to kiss me gyu, please" you begged.

mingyu could never deny you, and he knew that you knew that and used it against him very often, but he still chuckles at your tactics and leans in you press his lips against your in a big fat kiss.

you wrap your legs around his waist and pull yourself closer towards the edge of the counter so that you could feel him better. you wouldn't let his pulls away from you that easily again.

mingyu smiles into the kiss when he feel your clutch on his jumper. he loved teasing you, but he loved this more. the way your possessiveness would peek out and you would be less reluctant to let him go.

mingyu lays his hands flats against the counter so that he could kiss you better, and feel you closer. you hands were crossed around his neck.

his mouth moved in perfect sync with yours and you were sure you could die like this, with him kissing you absolutely senseless.

he pulls away from you for a second and look down at your eyes, you were both panting. he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and leans back in— DING.

both of your heads turn towards the little potato shaped timer kept above the oven. "aw the cupcakes are done" mingyu said sadly, his lips forming a small pout. you rolled you eyes and pushed his hands off you. you cupped his cheeks and turned his head to look at you. "so why are you pouting?" you asked, laughing softly at his cute little sad face.

"wanna kiss you a little longer" he said, speaking in pout while trying to tuck himself back in between your legs. you made sure to keep them shut.

you press a small kiss on his cheek, "we'll kiss later I promise. for now lets finish those cupcakes, yeah? " you said while jumping off the counter and walking towards the oven to take out the cupcakes. you make sure to grab mingyu's hand on the way so that he would follow you.

mingyu takes the opportunity hug you from behind and follow you like a dumb puppy. he breaths in your hair and smiles againt your neck, "I love the way you smell" he said.

you snorted, "that's not creepy at all."

"hey I'm not creepy I just liked the way the love of my life smells okay?" he pouts again, this time angrily.

you laughed again and turned around in his arms to face him. "thank you baby" you said sincerely, then got on your tippy toes to kiss him, "I love you too" you said.

mingyu felt the butterflies in his stomach go crazy. he was pretty sure the cupcakes would burn if he didn't turn off the oven soon, but who cares? he was kissing the smartest, the most beautiful person alive. for him, it really was you who hung the stars in the sky.

[specshroom]

hello hello, I stumbled across your writing and wanted to say how much I enjoyed “Blood In The Water” I was curious about how reader struck that deal with all the mer-creatures in the first place?! did they try to eat reader too? or did one/many have an attachment or attraction since reader grew up around that place? the whistling was soooo cool, like they were dogs trained to a command! does that mean they had struggles with communication at first? do the mer-peeps understand language or just body language? I’m full of questions 😂❤️ it was just so enthralling and love a good morally grey character! is reader struggling to make ends meet and that’s why they do this? or is it more of ‘it’s either me or them’ type scenario? OR reader is just like this is the easiest way to get money?! 👀 oml lemme stop here this is getting quite long— LOVE UR STUFF 😚

I'M SO GLAD IT INTERESTED YOU SO MUCH (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ��)

I like to keep things up to interpretation cus I think it's more fun BUT I can answer a few of those.

- They definitely struggled at first lol. The merfolk can't speak human language and don't understand it. Humans can't speak mer-language either because it's mostly high pitched clicks and chitters. Reader figures out that the closest they can get to making sounds the merfolk understand is by whistling because it's loud and high pitched enough that they can hear it easily even through the water.

- They do share a lot of body language and mannerisms with humans (like kissing👀) so that made things easier.

- The merfolk do recognise Reader as a local and that made them more trustworthy. (Later on they marked the bottom of Readers boat so they know it's them🥺)

I wrote a little drabble to answer the "How did this happen?" question.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You sigh as you row your way out of the canal and into the open waters.

Your new patron lounges in his seat on the opposite side of the gondola, staring up at the clear blue sky. You preferred doing business at night when it's quiet, few braved these waters at night. Alas dwindling funds force you to suffer the business of the day. There's just too much comotion in the daytime, too many tourists.

Its been like this since the first rich fool "discovered" that your relatively small and unimpressive lake town actually boasts some magnificent and horrific monsters in the depths of the decievingly calm waters surrounding it. Now flocks of fools come to "test their bravery" by crossing the dangerous waters.

Conservationists and locals convinced them that hunting down the monsters in the lake would lead to environmental catastrophe and the snobs decided that it would be a better investment as a tourist attraction.

"Don't you get bored of this?"

Your patron slices the silence in half. You blink out of your thoughts, releasing the iron grip you had on your oar.

"I could give you a different job."

The well dressed man's tone is almost convincingly sympathetic. You keep your gaze locked onto the familiar waters ahead of you...until you hear the distinct sound of coins being jostled against one another. That changes things.

You hesitantly turn to where the stranger sits comfortably, grinning with pride.

"I thought so, it's always the same with you locals."

The tourist opens his money bag and takes out one gold coin. At least enough for a small meal.

"What would you do for it?"

He plays with the coin in his fingers before tossing it out of the boat and into the water. The carelessness with which he tosses his gold makes your blood run hot. Through the thick permanent fog that hangs over the waters, you can just barely see the gold coin as it sinks into the abyss and your stomach growls pitifully.

He holds out the pouch over the side of the boat, dangling it over the water.

"Would you dive for it?"

The sick thing is that you actually consider it. You stare intensely at the stupid pouch that could keep you going for a good while.

The man suddenly drops the pouch and you jump forward to catch it but he yanks it back up by the drawstring before it can touch the surface of the water. He laughs at his cruel humour and your blood reaches it's boiling point.

You don't know why it was that patron in particular that made you snap or why that bad day in particular made you finally put the knife skills your father taught you to good use.

But before either of you know it his laughter turns to bloody choking. You scramble off of him, panic clear on your face. He reaches for the knife in his neck but it's useless. His body sags over the edge of the boat and his blood mixes with the water. You watch with wide eyes as he takes his last struggled breaths.

It's silent for a while before you take your eyes off of the man Infront of you to look down at your red stained hands. You look around as if anyone could've seen your crime through the fog anyway.

After a while of just staring blankly at the still body Infront of you, you try to compose yourself and lift him off the side of the gondola. You manage to tip him over and watch his body sink down.

You stare at the corpse fading deeper into the water. Just as you ready yourself to leave the scene something rocks the gondola slightly and you fall on your ass, gripping the side of the boat.

You feel a breath on the side of your cheek and jump when you look over and see two big pitch black eyes staring at you from over the side of the boat. Your skin turns to ice, unable to move.

You hear chittering from the other side and jump again as another one peers over the furnished wood of the boat. The first one takes your frozen hand in their cold clawed hand and inspects the drying blood covering it.

They stick their tongue out and slowly lick all the way up your shaking hand, licking away at the blood as if cleansing you of your sin. The other makes a clicking sound that sounds oddly like laughter.

Once all the blood on your hand has been licked off, the creature looks up at you for a moment before disappearing below the surface once more. The other one doesn't look like it wants to go but a few clicks from the water convince it to slowly lower back into the depths.

You lean over the side of the gondola trying to get a better look at the creature before it leaves. You deflate when you don't see so much as a ripple in the water.

Suddenly, just as you were sure they weren't coming back, the same one from moments ago bursts from the water. In a second it cups your cheek and kisses you. It's hard and deep, more passionate than you'd ever had before. The creature releases you and this time before it leaves it gives a little wave with its strange webbed hand. You wave back, a little dazed, as the monster dives back into the water.

You have to sit there for a good while staring at the pouch of coin the tourist left behind and then back to the murky waters, touching your lips while contemplating what the hell just happened.

[cassandraclare]

q&a

Alexa: Will we ever get to hear about Tessa's time in the Spiral Labyrinth? I think that would be so cool. 2) Why does Jem always say that the Carstairs owe the Herondales? I know that Jem feels that Will saved him when he was a child, but Jem saved will just as much as Will saved Jem. I'm curious if you have any more thoughts on that, like if it is just part of Jem's personality that he feels so keenly that he owes Will.

Sure, Jem saved Will just like Will saved Jem, but that isn't going to make Jem feel like he owes Will less, because indeed, that's not his personality (or Will's — Will would say the Herondales owe the Carstairs.) For Jem, this is a very pure feeling, that he will always owe this debt to Will and to the Herondales, and even though he wouldn't deny he also saved Will, he wouldn't qualify the statement — "The Carstairs owe the Herondales, though, you know, the Herondales also owe the Carstairs and so it's basically even but I'd still like to help out" because it would undercut the strength of his conviction. None of that means he doesn't know he did a lot for Will and Will's family too! As to whether there's more to Jem's belief that the Carstairs owe the Herondales than the obvious, we will have to see.

Anonymous:  THE SHADOWHUNTER CHRONICLES. I SEE YOU HAVE WICKED POWERS IN THE WORKS (NOT SOON ENOUGH).... FOLLOWING KIT HERONDALE AFTER 2012 ERA BUT HERES MY QUESTION.... YOU HAVE ALL THIS GAP BETWEEN THE LAST HOURS SET IN 1900S UNTIL THE 2000S WITH THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS. WE, AS FANS DO NOT KNOW WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE CARSTAIRS ETC, SUCH AS AFTER CHAIN OF THORNS.... ...... YOU HAVE MANY MANY MANY GAPS HERE TO BE TRYING TO END THE SERIES..... SOOOO MANY UNANSWERED QUESTIONS WITH THE CHARACTERS. (AND YES IVE READ EVERY SINGLE BOOK).

Ack, the caps! Hello, friend. It is true that not every moment of every day of every decade has been described in a series, but that is fairly normal! We don't know exactly what transpires between Last Hours and Mortal Instruments (though we have many hints in the various short story collections, especially where it comes to the time of the Circle) — nor do we know what, for instance, was happening in the New York Institute during The Infernal Devices. With a big universe, you're never going to know what's happening in every place at every time. There will always be gaps; it's neither a bug nor a feature, more a natural consequence of the format.

I totally understand being like, "The Shadowhunter world cannot end with Wicked Powers, there are more stories to tell" but — whenever it all ended — there would always be more stories to tell.

princeash asked:

Hi Cassie!! So excited by the announcement! My question is, are we getting a Ash pov in tlkof?and could we maybe get a snippet of him 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 (also, I'm very happy about finally getting a release date and i dont mind waiting because i know you'll make it worth the wait!! 🤎)

Hello! We are not getting Ash's POV in TLKOF, unless something major changes. Ash is a bit of a mysterious figure for quite a while. Figuring out what makes him tick and what he's really up to is part of the fun. Also I'm working on not overwhelming people with so many POVs. :)

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

When you point out how neurodiversity affects whole areas of the brain, not just what we see as the presentation symptoms, it seems so obvious. I've known that many neurodivergent conditions have high rate of co-morbidities, but haven't thought about what that would mean. I really liked your explanation of what else dyslexia affects, it made me recategorise some of my sister's mom behaviours. I see time blindness, some executive dysfunction, organisation difficulties and go, yup, I've got that too, it's normal, and forget that most people don't struggle with that (I've suspected I have undiagnosed ADHD for years, but never got checked for it, since I suggested it my dad freaked out, insisting there was nothing wrong with me. I really should though)

May I ask how your synaesthesia manifests for you? I'm always curious about how neurodiversity manifests in people and how it affects them, because there are so many minor and major things not talked about. I apologise if that question makes you uncomfortable, you don't have yo answer it.

Anyway, thank you for your explanation! It made a lot of things click all at once for me.

If you want lots of examples of how my synaesthesia works, I have a tag you could trawl here. But, I have a few different types; the common numbers-have-colours one, but I also get textures and sensations and feelings, and about... literally everything. Numbers, words, people's voices, names, personalities, the plots of media, images, everything.

Soooo, yeah. Sensory overload is the big impact; trial and error over the years has shown me it's primarily auditory, so if I can wear earplugs I can cope for longer in 'busy' environments. The other thing is that it really does a number on my mathematical ability, though, because, I shit you not, the colours get in the way. When I was a small child I was shown that 3 + 5 = 8, and my brain went "Yes, orange + pink = brown, got it" and ever since then if I see a 3 and a 5 together in a sum it DOES NOT MATTER what the operator is, I immediately assume the answer is 8. 3 plus 5? 8. 3 minus 5? Also 8. 3 times 5? Buddy you'll never guess. But it's 8.

It takes conscious effort not to do this T_T

The other thing is that I really, REALLY suffer from this thing where someone goes "Hey, we should watch Program X" but the problem is, you see, the problem is, I cannot stand the sensation I get from the name Program X, and therefore I will not watch it out of disgust that is totally unrelated to the actual show. This applies to all media, places, human beings, etc. (It is obviously a thing I have to be careful of when it's human beings.)

I think everything else I have is ADHD-related though, so that's probably everything I can put down to the synaesthesia.

[danikamariewrites]

Soooo, I hope that this is alright to request. I can't really pick between a ship for this b/c I love them and how you write them so much. So, if you don't mind, could you write about the reactions of Feysand, Rowaelin, and Nessian + Azriel (...Nesriel?? IDK) to reader getting poisoned by an enemy (reader lives, but is left feeling very, very weak and ill)?? If you just want to do one or two that's fine... I was just curious to see how some of them might react :).

Cured By You headcanons

Feysand x reader, Rowaelin x reader, & Nezriel x reader

A/n: I would not be able to pick between them in general and I love these ships and so happy you do too anon

Warnings: poison, over bearing mates

Feysand

It happened while visiting the court of nightmares

You felt like an idiot, you always check your drinks or have Azriel’s shadows check

When you wake up 2 days later you were more embarrassed than anything. Especially passing out in the middle of the Court of Nightmares, like what a rookie move

Cassian and Azriel jump into action as Rhys scoops you to his chest. Feyre unleashes her claws, practically growling in Kier's direction. Rhys grabs her and winnows the three of you home to an awaiting Madja

thankfully you healed quickly. whoever poisned you clearly didn't get their dosage right

you still feel weak and get tired easily during the day for a few weeks

the first thing you see is Rhys and Feyre casually chatting. you watch them for a bit before reaching for Feyre's hand that's casually draped on the bed

they jump at your movement and are overjoyed that you're finally awake

if you thought they were doting and overly fussy about you when you have the sniffles, think again. these two are unbearable!

Rhys carries you everywhere. it was a struggle to convince them to let you out of bed so this was the compromise

the poison had weakend you to the point where lifting your arms was a chore. Feyre had decided to feed you even though most of the time you gave her an I'm-going-to-kill-you look

you considered yourself lucky though. to have mates that take care of you is a blessing

Rowaelin

Furious doesn’t even begin to describe how Rowan and Aelin felt

everything was fine, dinner was going great. this new alliance with a kingdom bordering Wendlyn seemed promising

until you polished off your wine. you turned pale and Rowan immediately scented that something was wrong with you

you passed out, collapsing from your chair. the dining room fell into chaos as soon as Fenrys sniffed your glass and announced you'd been poisoned

the guests were ushered out and taken to another room to be interrogated while Rowan rushes you to your shared bedroom, Yrene following and ready to draw the poison from your system

you woke up two days later with Fleetfoot watching over you, her golden head laying on your stomach. her big brown eyes staring at you. petting Fleetfoot behind the ears she shakes your hand off after having her fill. leaping off the bed the large golden beast sits by the door and begins to howl as loud as she possibly can

the queen and king coming running, almsot breaking down the door

Fleetfoot wags her tail at the sight of Aelin, running back over to sit next to the bed as your mates approach

the pair throw themselves down next to you, squishing you between them carefully. "We were so worried, oh gods." Aelin breathes out as Rowan repeatedly kisses your face

(like Feysand) the two of them don't let you lift a finger. Rowan never gets to do this for Aelin so he babies you to the max

from helping you walk and work out the muscels in your body to feeding and bathing you he does everything for you

Aelin spoild you with attention and treats. you two spend all her free time snuggled up in bed eating junk food

Nesriel

they each have a very different (yet extreme and justified) reaction

Azriel starts threatening people with Nesta, who lets her power rumble through the room, flames cupped in her hands

Cassian is getting you the hell out of there and to Madja

Cass doesn't let go of you for a single second while the healers pulls the poison from your body. he presses kisses to your temple and whispers sweet nothings as you writhe in pain from the poison being extracted

while you sleep for a week they hover over you, watching over you like hawkes

Azriel sleeps sitting up in a chair next to the bed while Nesta sleeps next to you, playing with your hair so you feel soothed in your unconcious state

when you wake up you're startled to find Cassian curled up at the end of the bed like a dog, Azriel in a chair, and Nesta next to you

Az's shadows go haywire next to his ears, alerting him to your conciousness. the shadows rush to alert Cass and Nes who perk up immediately

Nesta sits up, holding your face in her hands, "oh thank gods, you're ok." she coos on the verge of tears

even though you're weak you force your arm to move so you can hold her wrist. "I'm ok," you whisper

you all thought Cassian would be the more doting/crazy one but it turns out to be Nesta

she freaks out every time Az or Cass move you, worried about your comfort levels or if you're in pain. she yells at them if you even wince, "Careful! you're hurting her!" they always give her the same exasperated look as you giggle

when they find out who poisoned you Cassian tells you and stays with you. meanwhile Az lets Nesta tag along to the interrogation

he even let Nesta participate and she did not hold back. making this guy feel the worst pain he has ever endured

[rhiannonsknife]

I've got my theatre show this week! (I'm playing Paulette in Legally Blonde if curious 👀) soooo... Jackie Taylor with actress!reader? Could so use a girl to bring me a rose or something 👀 (also help with pre-show nerves??)

-🔆

(my first show is on Tuesday and I am FALLING TF APART with nerves please help me)

i mean if jackie taylor isn’t available i’m also down……(if you catch me subtly hitting on my anons, mind your own goddamn business. it’s yellowjackets day, this is a special occasion.)

you can hear the audience from where you’re sitting in front of a mirror: a constant murmur of voices in the background of people finding their seats, flipping through their programs, waiting for the lights to dim.

it shouldn’t make you this nervous. you’ve done this before, after all. you know your lines, your blocking, every single beat of your performance. still, as you sit just offstage, fingers curling and uncurling at your sides, the nerves creep in.

before you can spiral, a voice snaps you out of your thoughts: “wowza, look at you, showstopper!”

with your eyes wide, you snap your head around.“jackie? what are you doing back here?”

“relax” she grins. “i snuck in!”

“you snuck in?” you glance over to the stage manager’s table. somehow, miraculously, no one has spotted her yet. “jackie, you shouldn’t be here!”

she steps closer. “don’t worry about me.” her eyes flicker over your costume, clearly noticing the way your hands are still trembling at your sides. “nervous?”

you hesitate, then nod on the exhale. “a little”

jackie tilts her head. “but you’re, like, annoyingly good at this”

“doesn’t mean i don’t get nervous.”

her gaze softens at this. “hey,” she murmurs, squeezing your fingers. “you’re gonna be amazing!” her hands are warm, so grounding in your own.

“you’re biased,” you say with a weak, breathless laugh.

jackie shrugs. “maybe!” before you can protest, she pulls something from behind her back: a single rose, slightly crumpled from where she’s been hiding it. “jackie!”

“it’s for you,”

you glance down at the rose, suddenly overwhelmed with so much affection that it makes you forget all about your nerves. jackie isn’t always the best with words, but sneaking backstage just to see you, just to bring you a rose is so very her. she leans in, cupping your cheek as she presses a quick kiss to your lips. she’s not trying to get you in trouble for making our backstage, after all.

jackie pulls back just as the stage manager’s voice echoes through the room, announcing that you’ve got three more minutes.

“i’ll be right there the whole time,” she promises. “front row. you’ve got this!”

you take another deep breath. “yeah. i do”

“go break a leg, superstar!” jackie grins, and then, just as quickly as she appeared, she’s gone again, leaving you with the flower in your hand.

[botanyshitposts]

Hey! I'm not a botanist, but I'm in circles where it's a bigger thing and I'm kind of curious about something.

So, from an outsider's perspective, the genus Garcinia has a lot of weird and messy classifications. For example, common species like G. intermedia and G. gardneriana are really similar to Garcinia brasiliensis, to the point that it's pretty controversial if they're actually separate species. The Garcinia species colloquially known as "achachairú" also appears to bear a lot of similarities to that trio (although much less than they share with each other), HOWEVER it's almost exclusively referred to (in cultivation and in studies) as G. humilis, a Carribean species with small oval-shaped leaves, despite actually having very long lanceolate leaves and being exclusively found in the Andean foothills of Bolivia. Also, multiple frequently cultivated species like Luc's garcinia and Russell's sweet garcinia haven't actually been described yet, despite for example the former having a decent amount of scientific interest and frequent genetic testing done on it.

All of these odd classification things and even more others have been pretty well known in my circles for the past 15 years-ish, but still nobody seems anywhere close to a conclusion for them. How long does it usually take for a genus to get organized when it has as many species as Garcinia does? And how do they do it? Do they go around testing every single species or only a few at a time? If a species is currently not named, do the same people usually describe them as part this endeavor, or just leave them for somebody else? I saw Plinia and Artocarpus recently got reshuffled a lot because of some prominent genetic studies on them, and several new species and even genera were added, but it just seems alien to me how stuff like that even ends up happening. There are so many plants out there!

Sorry if I'm asking the wrong person here, but I've been wondering about how this stuff will eventually be resolved for yeeeearrs

There are so many plants out there!

ok im kind of surprised i can offer a few possible answers to this question despite having never heard of this but i think i can. if the question is 'why aren't some plants actually described', this is the primary reason why.

when i was in plant anatomy class in college, the person teaching us was a plant anatomist who assigned us different plants from the greenhouse to dissect and describe in a paper for her, and she told us that we might find something that hadn't been described before, which was pretty shocking to me. what do you mean i could potentially find a new-to-science thing? has nobody in history looked at this plant that's just growing in the greenhouse upstairs??

what she said was that no, sometimes not. there are so many plants out there that it's difficult to do one exact in-depth description and published examination of each species, so what botanists end up doing is doing or finding one in-depth examination of one species in a specific group and assuming that all the others in the group are at least similar, if not the same. which is good because it saves time and works as a shorthand, especially if there's not much funding, but also sometimes it has the potential to overlook more nuanced differences that can go undiscovered for a long time. but that's just botanical species in the conventional sense, which i don't think is as straightforward in what you're describing.

another answer to this question that's more specific to the species you're talking about here is that plants are having sex. they have so so so soooo much sex. few things they enjoy more to be honest. and given that the most conventional (but not only) definition for different species is 'can't have sex with other species because it's too different from them', the lines get blurrier to deal with, and one thing botanists do when the lines between species get too blurry (because of all the sex) is to just assume that they're all part of some kind of hard-to-describe genetic soup with individual plants falling along gradients or spectrums of similarities or differences, and in this case you'll see botanists just name the most prominent species among them and call it the '[most common suspect] complex', which groups together all the ones that happen to be having sex with each other at the same time, just to make them easier to talk about. this typically doesn't mean that they're species-less, but more that they can be thought of as a group with a few distinct points where they can look very distinct, and those points are the species, if that makes sense; see the citrus sex graph at the end for an example.

i also see from a cursory google search that people seem to be planting and eating these in a more widespread way, and people are talking about them on forums and stuff. this is one of the cases in botany where things get tricky, because a person looking for traits in a fruit that's having tons of sex might not actually be looking for the same things botanists are looking for when describing a species-- it might seem easiest to just find which species or few species are the tastiest and grow those, but if it's a genetic soup then all you can really do is do it the old fashioned way and breed individual plants for the traits you want. which, who knows, could end up being a hybrid between all of them.

case in point: again i am not completely up to date with the lore here but i found a forum thread where people were debating which species to plant and the consensus was just to plant multiple species at once, which is fine but is also really funny given that it DOES facilitate even more sex, thus blurring the lines even further and-- if the posters decide to plant the resulting seeds from the fruits-- will create even MORE hybrid plants of no discernible concrete species in the plant soup. the hybrid of a hybrid of a hybrid of a hybrid or whatnot. when does one stop calling it a hybrid between two species and start calling it 'the tree in grandma's backyard that's the tastiest of the berries i've tried'? that is the question, truly, one humanity has had for millennia in the search for the tastiest berry, and at that point it might just be easier to call it a variety or cultivar, which are horticultural terms for just that-- a distinct 'kind' among the same species that taste good subjectively and can be reliably rebred and harvested, like all the apple varieties people debate about.

another reason is that plant phylogenies are hard and brain-twisting and plant taxonomists and systemisists are among our strongest warriors. it's not uncommon at all in botany to be researching something and to find out it's been reshuffled because of a new breakthrough on the case a bunch of people more qualified on the subject decided made more sense like a decades later. sometimes species themselves will even change names multiple times if it turns out that it was described earlier by someone else considering the new circumstances. if you're a really unlucky or just controversial plant all this can happen over and over again until, finally, the trees of math have been resolved in a way that makes sense. how long will it take? surely there is a concrete end to the madness? nah. lol

finally, if you're looking into studies on this, you should know that some phylogeny stuff is opinion-based or subjective, especially at first. what counts as a new group for one group of researchers might not count as one for another. so when you see stuff where people are inventing new categorizations or genuses or whatnot or merging multiple ones together spontaneously, it'll depend on how well supported their reasoning is and what the evidence seems to show, and the larger community of plant taxonomists will, overtime, decide what they want to do with that information-- which may include verifying it or refuting it with more evidence. what researchers are proposing when they split stuff off or merge it together is a new or updated model for thinking about existing information, and that model may be more or less useful than the existing one for the means of actually learning more about the plants.

anyway in short there are lots of reasons why this might not be sorted out and the more sex these plants have the longer it's gonna take. i'm strongly reminded of that one citrus sex graph (its this one) (screenshotted to see it on night mode):

[palettepainter]

To Love and Be Loved

@muletia merformers content grabbed my artblock by the throat and launched it into space. This AU is driving me crazy

I've never been the type to be consistent with AU's when making them just cuz I'm really bad at posting frequently for them, or I loose interest in continuing them, so I've only ever been invested in a few AU's online. Merformers?? I don't know WHAT it is about this concept, but it scratches an itch in my brain, so I wrote a drabble based off a scenario muletia's answered on their blog!

I'm still fairly new to character x reader content soooo please be nice,,,I actually had a lot of fun writing this, might write more! Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors

The AU belongs to muletia. I tried not to go into too much detail concerning readers appearance, but for backstory sake I made them a fisherman

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

Sunlight burns behind your eyelids, even when you stubbornly clamp them tighter with a whine. You would have thrown your arm over your face to block it entirely, if everything didn’t feel like it weighed triple what it was, and if everything didn’t ache

A curious, painful numbness weighed heavily in every limb, as if your very bones themselves had turned to cement blocks. You whine again, attempting with what little reserve of energy you possessed to move

You didn’t move much, and you know you probably didn’t look very graceful doing so, but with effort, you roll onto your side

The familiar, yet undeniably unwelcome sensation of sand sticking to the skin of your cheek pulls yet another discomforted whine from you, but the very thought of trying to manoeuvre yourself so you can wipe it off - and the following realisation of how much energy it would take to do so - you abide to lay there and sulk in your uncomfortable misery instead 

And then a crab walked sideways into your line of vision, about an inch away from your nose

A pity really, that you were stranded upon this island alone, scientists around the world would have been amazed at the speed in which you all but catapult yourself away with

That same startled movement however, causes you to instantly double over with a hiss and clutch desperately at your leg when an unexpected, angry flare of pain shoots up your limb. You suppress the urge to yelp, sucking air through your clenched teeth, it’s only after a few seconds that your eyes start to mist up pathetically, and you have to blink in a futile attempt to restore your vision 

‘What the hell?!-’

You don’t care to glance up to see if the crab has retreated, or rub your face into your shoulder to brush off the sand that you can feel is still stubbornly glueing itself to your skin, everything else was distant, unimportant: the concern for why you were in such unexpected, such worrying pain, greatly outweighed anything else 

Thanks to your clumsy flurry to get away from the crab you are at least partially sitting, so you have an easy view of your left leg from where the pain was originating from

At a glance, you are doused in immediate relief when you see your leg clearly isn’t broken. To confirm the theory, you give the limb an experimental roll and bend the knee. It was sore, but not totally painful. You practically deflate like a balloon, hand covering your heart, a broken leg would be just your luck 

You can also see no visible sign of blood, which is promising

You’re no medical experiment by any means, but getting an open wound on a island you still have no idea how to truly navigate or live off of and contracting something, or having it become infected, is really not something you want to worry about

Still, if there is no sign of blood and there is no apparent bone sticking out at an awkward angle, then maybe you pulled something?? 

Leaving the unexplained pain only to have it come back and bite you later for not trying to soothe it is out of the question, so you reach down to peel back your absolutely sodden trousers

They’re as soaked as they are uncomfortable, exposing your cold skin to the merciless open air that has goosebumps prickling your skin in nanoseconds. Despite the clothing on the rest of your body, you feel the wind's icy hand invade up the back of your shirt and scratch at your spine, the hairs on your neck standing on end

You force yourself to ignore it, hiking your trouser further upward until it rests above your knee

There, you see your problem 

Sickly yellow swirls around the lip of your boot and up your calf, it’s as unpleasant to look at as it feels

Removing your boot only further reveals the extent of the damage: the bruise is heaviest at your ankle, the flesh swollen and sore, specks of dingy purple dotting the area above the bone which is almost completely swallowed by the swelling 

That...wasn’t good

Bracing yourself for the worst, for what you already know is going to be the case, you cradle your ankle and press oh so gently onto the tender skin. Each poke, even feather light, causes little shocks of agitation to flare through your muscles and draws a wince from you each time without fail

‘This is…really not good’

“Shit...” you mumble, because there was no other word appropriate to describe your situation

Quietly, you can silently concede that the situation could have been more dire, you would have been royally screwed if you had a broken leg. Heavy bruising was at least managable, annoying yes, but manageable

You’d survive at least, that was comforting, you really didn’t want swollen ankle and heavy bruising to be the cause of death carved on your tombstone 

All things considered, you conclude you got very, very lucky (that or some kind of deity must have been feeling particularly merciful), of all the injuries you could have sustained, not to mention literally drowning, surviving an ocean storm with a sore leg was a blessing-

Eyes snapping open, alert and awake, everything comes rushing back to you at an overwhelming pace: the storm, the rain and wind, the pathway along the coastline, the loose rock, losing your balance, falling, water - water everywhere - all around you, in your eyes, in your mouth, suffocating you

You were going to drown, you were certain that was it

You remember being pulled under, wave after wave throttling you, hurling your small, frail body under its currents, kicking and flailing. Disorientation had scrambled your brain, and the pressure constricted your ribcage, a burning sensation climbing higher in your throat and behind your eyes 

Light fading, the surface getting further and further away, you were sure you were drowning- you had been drowning! You were going to die, and yet…you’re here

Still reeling, you turn your head unhurriedly to survey your surroundings. The breeze is light and soft, just barely tussling your raggedy hair, a far cry from the ferocity of the tempest that had been set on devouring the island and its inhabitants hours ago

You were sitting on the outskirts of a lagoon, not one you recognised, you must have been washed up on an unexplored part of the island. If the circumstances which had brought you here had been anything less morbid, you think you would have found the surroundings quite peaceful

The lagoon is calm, a sanctuary held between two platforms of rock that curve around to isolate it from the rest of the sea, the only entrance in and out is a single gap in the rock formation opposite the section of beach you were resting on

Now though, in your delirious, near paralysed from fear state, the unfamiliar environment only feeds your unease

You want nothing more then to rot into the sand, to surrender to the heaviness that weighs on your shoulders and pleads for you to collapse and recharge, but if it’s the surge of adrenaline from realising you narrowly escaped sharing a handshake with the grim reaper not twenty four hours ago, or the pain in your leg the forbids you to forget it’s presence, you refuse 

Inhaling a breath to gather yourself, you swallow past the lump lodged in your throat despite how painful it is to do so, and brace your hands on the sand “Okay- Okay…easy does it. One…two…three!-” not without grunting, you manage to heave yourself onto your feet unsteadily

Okay. You’re standing. That’s good. Good.

After a thorough examination of yourself, and patting around your head to check for any bumps or dried blood, you reprocess again that you got very, very, VERY lucky!

There are no weird bumps on your head and the only thing you do feel that's out of place is the odd bit of reed caught in your hair or sand stuck on your scalp, the worst of the damage is a few new tears in your t-shirt, but none that would render it ruined (not that fashion was even in your priorities)

You sigh, if you ever get off this island you were so buying a lottery ticket

“Alright then…now for the fun part” you say dismally, casting a nervous glance down to your bruised leg

With every bit of caution one would use when stepping on cracked ice, you first take a step forward on your non injured leg. One step forward, simple. Then, you brace to carefully take the next step with your bruised one, easier said than done you think

Tenderly, you lift your foot from the miniature crater the sole of your boot had left in the sand, deciding to only move it forward a few inches before you let your boot rest again on the ground

No agitated pain came to smite you, only the general soreness persisted, which was gradually becoming tolerable now that you were up and had your bearings

‘So far so good..’

Still with care, you begin to unhurriedly shift your weight from your right foot to your left in preparation for your next step-

Pain. Just- Pain. A lot of it.

Your shriek is half muffled by the sand rushing up to greet you, where you barely manage to catch yourself on shaking arms before too much splats into your mouth. You fall, and you fall hard, and in your attempt to jerk and recorrect your balance, you only manage to infuriate your bruised leg further 

For several, uninterrupted beats, you lay there, defeated in a crater of your own making, content to do so until you shrivel up like a raisin in the sun and die.

However, it seems you’re not out of stubborn grit yet, because despite every blaring alarm in your head that begs you to not move because that was way more painful then you thought it would be!- you roll onto your back

You’re crying, both from pain, and the fact that now is simply the time to cry. You don’t bother to wipe the tears away, knowing more will just spill in their place

Every breath wheezes as you greedily inhale, one hand mindlessly rubbing at your leg in some weak attempt to alleviate some of the agony, it’s as successful as you imagined it would be

“Ow..” you whimper, your voice small and weak, like someone had stepped on it

“That…r-really hurt” you speak your thoughts aloud, because it’s better to focus on doing that then the aching sensation that you know now has rendered your leg near useless

You sniffle, attempting to steady your breathing by taking rhythmic inhales and exhales as you had done many times before, it was the only method you had that was somewhat keeping you from losing your goddamn mind

“So, walking is gunna suck..” you state, and you can feel your resolve fracturing as a particularly strong jolt of pain from your leg reinforces the statement “Maybe…I could fashion a walking stick out of a branch??” you continue to speak aloud “Maybe a splint? Finding a branch shouldn’t be too hard”

A pause settles, the only sound that drifts over to you is the sound of waves gently lapping at the edge of the rocks that surround the lagoon 

“Hm…I should get up” you don’t move

“...I shouldn’t be putting pressure on my leg if it’s hurt, but I need to find food and water” you had managed to survive living off the land and sea, though trying to catch fish and deducing what plants looked safe enough to eat was not easy

It’d be much easier if you had your fishing rod, but after more than a week of being washed up on the island without a trace of your boat or gear washing up on shore, you had come to accept the glum fate that your beloved boat and expensive gear were long gone. 

You’d never been overly fond of that boat anyway, you’d gotten it second hand for a price way too high for a vessel that had awkward steering, but if you saw that crooked old boat again you’d kiss

The only gear you had left on hand was your craft knife, which had been your saving grace when sawing through branches to construct your first shelter, gutting fish, starting a fire-....you feverishly patted your pocket

You frowned

You no longer had your knife

“UUUGH!!..”

As you begin to curse the world for your rotten luck, battling the temptation to start crying again because you know crying like a three year old isn’t going to solve your problems, much less aid you, the sound of rippling water is not lost to the sound of your own laboured breathing 

You go to turn your head to investigate the sound- only to startle upward for the second time that day when something begins rising out of the water 

With your busted leg you only managed to pitifully crawl yourself backwards and away from where the water meets the sand by your arms, eyes not once leaving the mass that steadily grows bigger as it comes upwards to the surface

Your nerves are shot, your heart is threatening to erupt from your chest, and you are in no condition to be running away from potential threats 

If the storm didn’t kill you, you’re sure whatever creature is approaching the shallows surely will

You’re going to die alone on this forsaken island and the only acknowledgement of your death will probably be years from now on some unsolved murders podcast 

If the worst is to end you then and there you don’t wish to see it, so, you throw up your arms in a measly shield, hoping that whatever creature has pulled itself up from the depths is feeling generous and puts you out of your misery swiftly 

As the moment stretches on at a painful pace, breathing hard through your nose with your head ducked into your shoulders like a terrified turtle, the sound of sloshing water draws to a sudden stop, and a pitched, single chirp breaks through the silent air 

Still, you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes and lower your arms, sitting stiff as a statue to the point your muscles start aching

You nearly jump out of your skin when a careful pressure nudges against your forearm, slick and cold from the water but warm all the same. It’s barely a sliver of a touch, almost hesitant in its precise delicacy 

Still, you don’t move. You remain locked steadily in place, terrified that if you so much as breathe incorrectly this beast will tear out your jugular 

The pressure leaves your skin, and a….pitiful churr sounds from the creature

Not threatened, not angry, not territorial, just…sad, dispirited 

An expanse of your terror that sits heavily in the centre of your chest breaks away, and further chunks begin to crumble and vanish the longer you sit there unharmed, despite knowing you are well within the range of biting distance

…You cautiously peel away your arms from your face, just enough to cast a clear glance towards your unexpected company

You hoped to gain an observing glance undetected, and yet the moment your arms have moved enough for you to see, you meet a heavy stare from a pair of electric blue eyes that sit well within your bubble of personal space

They instantly widen upon noticing your revealed face, a ghost of anticipation flooding the features of their expression as you ever so slowly continue to remove your arms from your face. The blue eyes twinkle, something elated glinting in them which further settles the anxious coil that felt like it had been constricting your windpipe

The creature sinks, or at least, you’re pretty sure they do, and you’re almost certain something like relief settles on their expression once your arms have fully lowered

The baby blue eyes are familiar, combined with a complexion composed of deep navy and ruby that cuts through your paranoia, a warm wave of relief flooding in to occupy the space it had been hogging in your chest

“Optimus!..” you breath breathlessly, almost dizzy from the drop in your stress levels that his presence brings 

The mer continues to stare at you unblinkingly, yet you’re too joyed at the discovery of the creature being only Optimus, a mer who had founded a curious, unexplained interest in you, that you don’t notice the way he practically glowed at the sound of your voice, physically perking, fins and all 

“God- you scared me for a second! I thought you-” You don’t get to finish your sentence

Strong, solid arms wrap around your middle with such speed you almost topple backwards into the sand again. His forearms alone cover the expanse of your back, his face practically covering the length of your stomach and chest, leaving you unintentionally pinned in an embrace, which on any other occasion, you would have not minded

This time however-

“Owowow-LeglegLEG!! GET OFF MY LEG-”

To his credit, Optimus doesn’t miss a beat at the sound of the evident distress in your voice, promptly tearing himself away from you with a string of worried chirps

He doesn’t whimper or give any acknowledgment to the assault of panicked slaps you had landed to the back of his head in your haste to have him remove himself, and instead his concerned eyes flicker over your body at an alarming speed 

All in all, it takes him about two seconds to process the tight lines of pain that have carved themselves into your face, the tension that hangs on your jawline, your lips which have peeled back over pearl white teeth in an obvious show of great discomfort, which pains him greatly

As you busy yourself trying to calm the roaring sensation of hot fire pain that bristles up your lower leg, Optimus’s eyes follow the line of your arms which clutch desperately at the sides of your limb, a grip which he concludes is no doubt leaving crescent moon dents in your skin

Whatever surge of delight he had felt at seeing you at last awake is instantly snuffed upon the sight of the discolouration bleeding across the skin of your calf

Once you’ve eased your breathing, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear the tears from your eyes before they fall, do you take note of the mournful slump that has overtaken Optimus’s shoulders

He wilts into the sand, his grand fins that stretch along his back and down the length of his tail that stretches into the water behind him drooping, eyes not once lifting from your injured leg, and he lets out a lone, terribly gloomy churr 

His hand hovers, and without meaning to you tense at the prospect of someone prodding your very much newly formed, sore bruise. As miniscule as the action is, Optimus somehow still catches it, and withdraws his webbed hand from you

It’s both amazing and intriguing to see such raw emotions displayed on his face, knowing that such depictions of emotions had never been shown in illustrations of mermaids or sirens in the many safety handbooks you’d read

But when Optimus looks to you, in a way not too different from a worried companion would, and then back to your leg, do you see the display for what it is

He’s concerned 

With an expression that gradually grows more troubled the longer he flickers his gaze between your face and your leg, your expression shifts to something more gentler: “H-Hey hey, Optimus, I’m fine! It’s just a bruise”

It’s not just a bruise, the miniature version of yourself in your brain corrects, you have most definitely sprained your ankle in some capacity and not only is that going to greatly hinder your mobility, but it’s going to take more then a week to at least be semi healed, it adds

In that moment though, you decide that’s not information that Optimus needs to know, but it seems your mermaid friend does not believe you regardless when he remeets your gaze with clear doubt in his eyes.

He casts another upset look to your leg, and you watch as his fingers dig into the sad in displeasure at the sight, the fins on the side of his head that act as ears pinning downward, only further showing how troubling he finds the situation 

“Really, I’m okay!” you insist with a bat of your hand, the mermaid does not shift his focus from your leg, looking to be in deep thought if the way his brows have started to mildly scrunch together is any indication 

You’re not sure what to focus your attention on more: his clear worry for your well being, or the way he quietly contemplates something you can’t pinpoint 

Still, even with his worry, your legs are starting to grow uncomfortably numb from the cold sand beneath you, and you need to either get back to your current shelter or find some way of crafting a new one without the help of your knife. Perhaps you’d get lucky and find somewhere sheltered further inland, but you weren’t going to get any progress done sitting 

So, against what every medical professional would tell you, you stagger to your feet. 

Lightning quick, Optimus watches your movements with the sharpness of a hawk, though you feel no terror under his observant stare. You’ve known the mer for the majority of your time stranded, and have come to learn that despite what you have read, he hasn’t shown even a flicker of aggression towards you once 

At first, it unnerved you, thinking that he was trying to lull you into lowering your guard. You’d read that mermaids were scarily intelligent. But that hadn’t happened, and the fear you’d felt towards his presence had gradually faded with time 

Standing to your full height, you hope it isn’t obvious how little pressure you’re putting on your hurt leg “See? Totally fine!~” to emphasis, you flash him the biggest reassuring smile you can muster 

It’s not very effective

Optimus remains half out of the water, his upper half resting in the sand propped up by his arms until he ‘stands’ at eye level with you. His tail twitches in the water behind him, casting ripples across it’s otherwise crystal clear surface while his mouth sets into an uncertain frown 

He produces a chirp, head slightly cocked, then a few more

The language barrier does make communicating a bit difficult, but you’re fairly certain based on his expression and general feel for the sounds he just made that he doesn’t hold a lot of hope in spite of your words 

You know very well that in order to demolish whatever doubts he has for good, you’re going to have to walk, the thought alone makes you nervous, let alone the idea of acting upon it. Still, with Optimus not looking anywhere close to dropping his concern, you didn’t have much of a choice…

“Welp!” you awkwardly stuff your hands into the pockets of your trousers because you’re not sure what else to do with them “It was uh…nice to see you!” you say with a nod. In your mind there is no way your laid back, casual act comes across as convincing, yet you press on

You half turn away, and Optimus’s eyes still bore attentive holes into your form “I’ll see you later I guess..” you bid farewell, throwing in a small wave over your shoulder as you take your first step forward on your good food, and then follow with your left with more caution

Now knowing what to expect you actually manage to take a step forward without falling, albeit a wobbly one which makes you bite the inside of your cheek, but you’ll count it as a win

With a bit more ease you smile, and unconsciously, you begin the movement needed to take the next step-

Three things happen in the span of two seconds: a bolt of excruciating pain slices up your calf with all the subtleness of a snapping bear trap. A yelp rips from your throat before you have a hope of muffling it, and before you can brace to make contact with the sand, there is a rapid flurry of splashes behind you accompanied by a startled trill before something abruptly stops your fall

A soaked, webbed appendage securely supports your head, the other you can feel pressing into your stomach, holding your body up from the sand. In a potent mix of fear and utter embarrassment you dare not move as you feel a surge of heat explode across your face 

Optimus had stopped your fall

From somewhere behind you, you can clearly hear the sound of Optimus’s calculated, deep breathing, and you don’t need to crane your head back to look at him to know that his eyes are no doubt as wide as saucers. He doesn’t move, and neither do you

The very tips of his clawed fingers press just enough into the plush flesh of your covered stomach that you can feel them pinching the surface of your skin through your t-shirt, and so, you shove aside your immense mortification and force yourself to find your voice 

“Uhm…meant to do that” 

Suddenly, you’re being moved with all the grace and care one would use to handle a helpless infant. As he meticulously lowers your form to the sand, the hand on your face shifting to rest on the side of your neck do you wonder if it’s at all possible for Optimus to hear how hard your heart is thundering with his close proximity 

His hands hover and then gradually pull away from you once he is sure you are steady on the floor and not going to keel over just from sitting upright

You don’t want to look at him, scared of what expression he might be wearing and dreading the thought of him seeing your own. Your own cherry red face that you know is as obvious as it feels

You want nothing more than for a sinkhole to open up in the sand right beneath you and swallow you into darkness, but alas, that pity isn’t granted 

You can hear sand shifting behind you, most likely Optimus trying to move higher up the sand to be near you, the mer had a strange obsession with being as close to you as possible when he could. His form settles besides you in the corner of your peripheral vision, his shadow bathing you in temporary shade that only further confirms how close he is

A troubled chirp and a gentle nudge to your shoulder, followed by a puff of hot air hitting the shell of your ear caused your breathing to involuntarily still, and then, his troubled face is ducking down and moving into your field of vision 

He doesn't look angry, or disappointed, or judgemental at all, you find nothing in his gaze to feel ashamed about

He just looks worried, a worry of such caring magnitudes it renders you speechless for a moment, totally lost on how to respond, and curiously, has the temperature in your cheeks rising higher 

When you do respond, your voice is low, head still ducked as you fiddle with your fingers anxiously “Okay…maybe I’m not totally okay..”

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It’s been a day since you woke up at the lagoon, and Optimus has been at your beck and call for that entire duration 

He rarely leaves you, which in fairness you suppose you can’t blame him for doing, given how you told him you were totally fine and then nearly face planted the floor seconds later. You try to cut him some slack, despite how overbearing he can be 

You’re certain it’s because he just wants to make sure you’re okay, but there have been times where you’ve quite literally had to swat him away with your own hand 

When he does leave, either willingly or by you demanding him to - to which you swear you can hear him whimper like a kicked puppy - it’s only ever for what feels like an hour at most (you lost your phone when you first arrived at the island, so you really had no clue how long he was actually gone for at a time), and everytime he comes back he always brings you a fish

You have a small collection of fish gathered on a palm tree leaf tucked away under a small gap in the rocks, concealed from the view of any wandering birds that may have been looking for an easy meal 

And of course, you’re grateful for Optimus’s attempts to help, but you can’t eat the fish without firewood, and you can’t gut the fish without your knife

The firewood part was an easy fix at least, and technically you could still eat the fish without gutting them first, but still, losing your only tool and means of general protection was pretty frustrating

It made you feel all the more smaller and helpless in the incredibly vast, uncharted territory you were stuck in 

Still, even without your knife and even with Optimus’s generous aid, you didn’t want to sit back helplessly while your dear friend did all the work, so, after Optimus’s form disappears beneath the surface of the water and you watch his red and blue rippled shape swim out of the lagoon, you climb to your feet

Learning that walking was a no go, you opt to instead hop on your good leg while dragging your other. Was it the most efficient means of moving around?? Not a chance. Was it a hell of a lot less painful then if you tried walking?? Absoloutly

When you reach the treeline, where the sand gradually climbs upward and becomes obscured by a layer of dried, fallen leaves and other masses of vegetation, you begin your search for a big branch to act as a walking aid

A splint probably would have been better, but given how you have no material to secure it to your leg, a walking stick will have to do. And thankfully, with the recent storm, there are a plethora of waiting branches littering the ground for you to pick from

It only takes around ten minutes of you scavenging before you come across a branch that looks decent enough, which surprises you as it does please you

With a grunt, you haul the thing up and hold it outwards to give it a once over. It wasn’t a particularly thick branch and was easy enough to hold with just one hand, it’s shape like that of a capital Y, forming the perfect perch for you to rest your arm over

The only downside you could really label was the fact it didn’t look the smoothest, but you were sure you could find a leaf somewhere and attempt to smooth it down for convenience. Though you doubted you’d even notice the pain of a splinter over your leg 

“Please don’t snap, please don’t snap, PLEASE don’t snap!..” you chant under your breath as you begin to settle the branch at your side and fold your arm over the top where it rests beneath your armpit

You stand, processing the feel, and with a final prayer, you begin to lean your weight onto the branch

It holds. Doesn’t so much as snap a creak of exertion at supporting you. Hopeful results, but you need to know for sure it’ll work

You take a step forward, then repeat with your injured leg, using the stick to carry the brunt of your weight as you use it to propel yourself forward a few inches. Again, the branch doesn’t utter a single groan of complaint 

You sigh, a small blessing of good luck 

“Firewood..” you mutter to yourself, already using your new crutch to turn back to the trees where you focus to gather as many small pieces of wood you can find to construct a fire

Though you know starting one will be no easy feat with the loss of your knife

You didn’t have the standard fishing knife when you’d first started your career, you didn’t see a need to purchase one at the time when you already had an old camping knife that could cut fishing line, cut bait, and prepare fish just as well

The thing had been sitting on your kitchen shelf for god knows how long until then, so it was nice to finally get some use out of it 

But what you really, really missed about it the most right now, was the flint fire starter it came with 

You didn’t even know it came with the feature when you’d first brought it, but man what you would give to have that knife back. Starting a fire was certainly going to be a lot more interesting without, it wouldn’t be impossible, but the difficulty had certainly amped up

And you couldn’t just simply not have a fire, it would get cold when the sun went down, and even if you hadn’t come across any dangerous predators on the land just yet, you’re not terribly keen on the idea of sitting terrified in the freezing darkness 

Plus, you’re not so desperately hungry that you’ll resort to eating raw fish yet

Starting a fire with two twigs can’t possibly be that hard

After you’ve gathered as much firewood in your arm that isn’t holding your clutch as you can do you turn and begin to hobble back down in the direction of the lagoon, where you drop your supply into a pile in the sand a little ways up from the water. 

It’s not much, you’ll definitely have to do a few more trips of gathering small sticks, but it was a start 

“Hope the tide doesn’t come too far in..” you say as you raise your eyes to the shifting mass of blue beyond the safeguard of the lagoon's edge. The thought is instantly followed up by where you’re going to sleep tonight, since you doubt you could easily craft a shelter with a busted leg and without your knife

You consider the idea of a cave, you’d seen a handful along the parts of the island you’d explored, but you hurriedly brush away the idea, probably not wise to sleep in a cave when there was a possibility of the tide coming in

“I’ll deal with that problem later” you conclude, settling yourself into the sand with your legs either side of your pile of firewood. You look at it dejectedly, bracing yourself for whatever frustration you’re about to willing subject yourself to 

“Okay!...let's give this a shot”

With a stick in each hand you begin what you are sure is going to be a laborious task that is going to eat up possibly the next few hours of your time, you don’t know, you’d never made a fire by rubbing sticks before

It's not six minutes later that your shoulders begin to cry from the repetitive motion, the ache building and building until it forces you to stop and you heave for breath, not realising you’d been holding it

There isn’t so much as a dent in your sticks, and your firewood looks no closer to being lit then it did when you gathered it 

You hang your head “Nnnngh…”

The process of rubbing your two sticks furiously together, only to then stop to grant your arms some mercy, followed by repeating the process went on for several minutes, and both your sticks and firewood continue to mock your efforts

If it’s the heat from the sun, the amount of effort you’re forcing your body to produce with rubbing the sticks, or a mix of both, but you can feel a thin veil of sweat on your forehead and an annoying heat spreading on your back where the sun hits you

No fire, no knife, no shelter, no good pair of legs because the storm had to fuck up one of them!-

“UGH!”

The frustration boils over, and in a blind moment of pure annoyance, you pick up the largest chunk of your firewood and proceed to lob it as far as you’re able to into the lagoon, just in time for Optimus to move into the calm shallows where his body breached the surface 

His delighted chirp of greeting is cut off as the twig bounced harmlessly off his head and then plonked into the water beside him. He blinked confused eyes, turning to watch the wood sink till it came to gently rest in the sand

He blinked again, then, turned back to you

Mortified is an understatement for how you feel 

“Oh my god!- I am SO so so sorry!! I-I swear I wasn’t aiming for you!! I just-” there is no possible explanation that exists on earth nor jupiter that you can conjure up to explain your childness display of annoyance, so instead you simply sigh, for what feels like the umpteenth time that day 

“I…yeah I got nothing, that was just stupid of me” you admit while rubbing the back of your neck

Though you feel your apology and flimsy excuse aren’t substantial, Optimus didn’t appear offended in the slightest, he appeared just as happy to see you as he did shortly after you had woken up

As you had come to expect, in his hand he holds a fish, one you cannot name a species too, but it is one Optimus has gifted to you before so you’re comforted with the knowledge it’s safe to eat 

‘Safe to eat when it’s cooked at least’

“Thanks buddy, can you put it with the others?” you ask, waving your stick in the general direct of the current fish hoard he’s gathered for you before you resume your fire making efforts

Optimus does as you ask without complaint, as you have learnt he often does, why he is so ready to accept your requests for literally anything you still don’t fully understand…or at least, you think you don’t

An answer had begun to trickle into the back of your mind, one which fills you with an endless, overflowing surge of anxiety that thinking about it for too long has you zoning out. Has something uncomfortable clutching your heart, a crawl racking up your spine that has you shivering

A feeling that is always accompanied by a longing yearnsome stare of adoration that feels a bit too domestic for your comfort, a tender brush of knuckles on the side of your head that easily hooks your hair behind your ear and out of your face, an action that shouldn’t make your heart rate pulse the way it does

Because being friends with someone shouldn’t come with confusing, fluffy feelings you’re too scared to unpack

“Maybe he’s just trying to be accommodating” was the excuse you’d told yourself when those unexplained little bubbly feelings began to become a bit too common for you to easily brush aside, and everytime you try to pair an explanation to his nurturing, near worshipful behaviour, you believe yourself a little less 

Even so, you refuse to let yourself believe for a second that Optimus is doing any of this because of some…crush on you

You were entirely different species! It wouldn’t be in his nature to pursue someone of a different biology. On the very rare chance he did see more than a friend in you (of which you heavily doubt), what on earth would he see in you that he wouldn’t find in another mer?? 

You couldn’t even breathe underwater for crying out loud! You had no characteristics that made you look anything remotely like a mermaid, so no, there was no way Optimus was doing any of these gestures in an attempt to impress you, to show he could be reliable, protective, loyal 

No

Optimus was your dear friend, nothing more

He needed to be with his own kind, someone like him, someone who could thrive in the water and not tie him down to navigating only the shorelines. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you, but especially him 

So no, Optimus did not have a crush on you. It made no sense for him to hold such feelings. He was intelligent, far more than yourself, surely he would see the fault in chasing after you. He was of the sea, and you the land, you weren’t compatible

Diving into those thoughts, you hadn’t even clocked how you’d fallen quiet, how your fire starting efforts had gradually slowed to a stop, leaving you to stare blankly off into the distance with an unreadable expression - but Optimus had noticed

He tilted his head, confused, assuming you were collecting your thoughts. But when a large enough space of time had passed and you still hadn’t so much as twitched, he chirped. No response 

Easily sliding closer his fins lower in worry on instinct at the way you don’t even seem to notice his presence, another concerned chirp goes unacknowledged by you. It doesn’t take him long before he decides to nudge you

You straighten, blinking hard with a shake of your head as Optimus pulls you out from the corners of your mind and plonks you back there on the sand of the lagoon

Turning, you’re ashamed at the still very present look of worry on his face, worry that you’ve caused, tilting his head like a curious dog trying to figure you out 

You give him a sheepish smile “Ah- Sorry! Spacing out” you assure, though Optimus only raises a brow at you

You don’t need to be a marine biologist to understand he doesn’t fully believe you, confirmed when he turns around and easily scoops up one of the fish from your pile and offers it to you encouragingly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he churrs a soothing purr to you

The salty waft from the fish reminds you of how hungry of you, and while Optimus’s gesture is heartwarming, you’re not eating a fish raw, thankfully, you’re not that desperate to quench the miniature ache that’s building in your stomach 

You push his hand aside with the back of your own, still smiling “Thanks buddy but, I can’t eat that” before his face can morph to unhappy you’re already explaining your reasoning 

“I need to get this fire going if I wanna cook any of them, not that that's gonna happen anytime soon, unfortunately..” you say with a huff and a not so pleased scowl down to your pile of kindling. Even with your explanation, Optimus only continued to look puzzled, and so, you resume venting your frustrations 

“Just had to loose my stupid knife in that stupid storm..” you grumble, not even trying to hide how annoyed you feel. You’re not sure if Optimus ever really understands your human speak when you try to communicate with him, but regardless, he’s an ear to listen if he can translate you or not

And man do you crave some kind of interaction, aside from when you talk to yourself to keep boredom at bay 

“I could have lost my jacket, or my own shoe, but nooo I had to lose my knife!” you reshuffle the kindling into a neater pile between your legs, brows gathered like angry thunder heads and face as welcoming as broken glass 

“As if hurting my leg wasn’t bad enough, losing my knife is just the cherry on top of the shitty sundae” just barely, you catch Optimus’s fin ears perking at that particular sentence, and a tiny voice in the back of your head snickered at the idea of him understanding what a swear word was

That same voice is quickly smothered underneath your frustrations however

“Can’t start a fire, can’t make a shelter, can’t gut fish..” you rant, the volume in your voice decreasing further and further as your own words reinforce just how helpless you’ve become with the loss of your blade

Even if you have no knowledge on how to survive being stranded, you’d managed, and your knife gave you a somewhat feeling of protection in the large, intimidating environment you’d been marooned on

A miniscule feeling of safety, gone just like that, all of a sudden you were back to the place you where when you’d first woken up on that island, and you hated it 

Silently, Optimus regards you and your curled up posture. You can’t easily curl your injured leg up to your chest, so you set on simply hugging one leg to your chest and hiding your face in your folded arms, sighing with all the tiredness and weariness in the world 

Seemed you were more tired than you thought

You can feel a building heat growing behind your eyes, and dreading the thought of crying infront of Optimus and making a fool of yourself, you refuse to look anywhere in his general direction, even when he lets out a series of soothing chirps that you know are his way of urging you to look at him 

You shift your head in your arms, turning further away from him 

“I-I’m okay Optimus, I’m okay!..” your voice sounds more watery then you would have liked, dammit 

God you were so pathetic! 

Here Optimus was, going out of his way to provide for you while you recovered, and all you can do is focus on the negatives. You have no doubt in your heart that if Optimus hadn’t chosen to be kind to you, you would be in a far dire situation, maybe even dead. You were continuously fumbling and falling, and Optimus, without fail, would always show to help you without you ever asking him to

He just would, as if doing so was as simple as breathing

Optimus truly was the best 

Attempting to compose yourself, you inhale a deep breath through your nose, chest rising as your lungs inflate to their fullest, then deflate as you exhale slowly through your mouth. When you reopen your eyes again, you feel better grounded and spare Optimus a glance, and notice how the mer has turned his focus to the water

There’s a considering detail to his face, contemplative, as if he was weighing the pros and cons of something 

Admittedly, the expression causes your grief to take a back seat as you hum curiously to yourself, wondering what thought could warrant such a heavy level of pondering 

“You good?” you ask

The only way you’re sure he heard you was the twitch in his fin on the side of his head, like the way a cat's ear would swivel to attention

He continued to study the surface of the water that glittered beneath the golden rays of sun that reflect of it, before he then turns his focus to you

The pensive quality to his face doesn’t waver, even when he temporarily looks off to the side and his brows gather by a smidge in the centre of his forehead. You try to not grow worried, you really try, whatever it is he’s thinking about you’re sure it’s nothing serious

But to see such an intense expression upon the otherwise social mer you’d come to warm up to was…concerning 

“You okay??..” you repeat your earlier inquiry, which causes Optimus to return his eyes back to you

He still looked serious, but there was something more relaxed about him, leaving you to assume that whatever debate he was having he must have come to a conclusion too. Whatever a mermaid of his size has to worry about you have zero clue, honestly you’re not entirely sure if knowing would just make you more nervous

If you wanted to know or not however, you learn that Optimus wasn’t planning to try and share

With another chirp he moved the fish into your hand, softly closing your fingers around it before you can utter a word. Then, he leaned forward until his forehead gently connected with your own. His skin was cold as it was smooth, pleasant to the touch, his rumbling churr travelling from his body to yours like a comforting hug 

There's something intimate and personal about the gesture that you simply don’t have the heart to turn down, he does it every time he has to leave you, the only answer you can make is that it’s some mermaid equivalent of saying goodbye

It was oddly comforting, like a wave, passing through your body, soothing and surprisingly powerful that struck down the knot of negativity and doubt festering within you

When he’d first tried to do it, you’d thought he was going to eat you and had jumped, but now, you welcomed the gesture gratefully 

He pulled away moments later, smiling down at you when your eyes fluttered back open. He offered one last chirp before he gradually began to drag himself back to the water, soon moving with graceful ease once deep enough, his grand body sliding out from the lagoon 

You blinked after him, brow climbing up into your hairline

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It’s only ten minutes after Optimus leaves do you throw in the towel in your fire starting efforts, all you’ve managed to create is a cramp in your shoulder 

Sitting there in the sand sulking is the first thing you debate on doing, considering how done you are with just about everything, but in the end, you decide to exercise your injured leg instead 

You try to keep pressure off it as much as you can, but seeing how you and your crutch are going to be spending a lot of time together as you heal, the sooner you get used to moving around with it the better. Plus, it gave you a nice excuse to explore the rest of the lagoon 

Now that your earlier anxiety had worn away, you can appreciate how serene your surroundings are. Despite the storm, the lagoon seemed pretty well off all things considered. If you didn’t count the littering debris of tree branches you’d have thought the place was untouched entirely!

Walking along the rock formation that forms one half of the wall that snuggly cradles the lagoon off in a corner is much easier to walk along then the sand owning to the sturdier surface, and as you meander along, you frequently stop to admire the many smaller rock pools that had formed into the structure and the little worlds flourishing with them:

So far you’ve found starfish, shrimp, hermit crabs, regular crabs, small fish and even a jellyfish the size of your pinky. As you cross the halfway mark along the wall you stumble across a particular sizeable upturned seashell, must have been tossed there by a wave, you think 

Kneeling to pick it up you’re marvelled at how gorgeous it looks, scarlet stripes painting across its shell with little darker speckles that have you thinking of the red scales of Optimus’s shoulders and back

As you think of the mer, you can’t help but also remember that he’s been gone a suspiciously long amount of time..

You hum pensively as you cast your eyes over to the sea, wondering when a blue and cool grey face with an unmistakable pair of turquoise eyes will appear

You really have no way of telling how much time has passed exactly, but the sun was high up when he was last here, and now it’s lowering. If you had to wager a rough guess, evening couldn’t be more than a few hours away 

But this was definitely the longest period he had left you alone for in a while

Had you upset him earlier?

He’d been trying to comfort you, and all you’d really done was vent

Just as quickly as the theory enters your head do you dismiss it, if Optimus had really been annoyed then surely he wouldn’t have done his whole forehead goodbye thingy he was so fond of, why would he have smiled and chirped at you if your behaviour had irked him??

“Maybe..he’s out hunting??” you suggest to yourself “He’s been bringing me a lot of fish and I never see him eat any of them”

The idea of Optimus pushing away his own hunger in favour of making sure you had plenty both filled you with immense gratitude for the mer and sadness at the same time, you didn’t want him to neglect his needs for your sake. You make a mental note to discuss it with him whenever he returns, because you know he will, a gut instinct, you just don’t know when 

Hopefully before it’s dark..

Reaching the end of the rock platform you carefully lower yourself to sit, legs dangling over the ledge but not so much you risk falling in. Even if the water looked peaceful, you don’t fancy a dip with a hurt leg, considering how you were only just starting to nail walking with a crutch

With nothing to do and no mermaid to occupy your attention, you let your good leg sway and your fingers brush over the rough, textured surface of your seashell. For a brief moment, everything felt still and right

Your situation still wasn’t the best, you’re still stuck on an island with no other human life, but for now, everything felt okay 

With one hand holding your shell, thumb idly stroking back and forth across it, your other hand holds your face, your reflection on the water below staring right back

The water looked especially refreshing, a part of you does long to throw haste to the wind and jump in for a swim, but the more mature part of you knows that’ll only put needless stress on your leg trying to keep yourself afloat 

Sometimes, if you sit still enough, a small fish will dart out from its hiding spot under the rocks before zipping away from sight, it’s like your own personal aquarium, and even better, it’s free!

A particularly large fish caught your attention as it swam along with it’s belly against the smooth sand that made the bed of the lagoon, it paused some ways directly below you where you feet dangle, giving you a nice view of it’s spotty scales that likely make it blend in well amongst the underwater reeds

Seconds later, it decides it’s done resting and shoots off towards the exit of the, swimming over the ridge of sand before it dived into the vast sea beyond its sheltered walls 

You hadn’t noticed earlier, given how this was the first time you’d gotten so close to the exit and entrance of the lagoon, but where the gap in the wall had formed, the sand steeps upward into a miniature mound, cultivated through creatures big and small swimming in and out 

It dipped sharply downward into the rest of the ocean, merging with the seafloor below and meshing with the rest of the rock and sand beyond

As you stare, you acknowledge again how lucky it was that out of all the places you could have washed up, you washed up in the safety of a quite lagoon….and that you just happened to drift through the only gap that made both the exit and entrance to said lagoon

In fact, it was a miracle you hadn’t sunk to the sea floor before you were carried over to the lagoon. If you’d been drowning any earlier then you might have sunk too low to pass over the small wall of sand 

But, looking back, you don’t ever remember seeing this lagoon, even from the line of the coast path you’d been following before falling into the water. You’re sure you would have seen it, because before the storm had suddenly settled the weather had been relatively decent

The waves…couldn’t have carried you that far, could they??

In fact, you’re astonished the waves didn’t end up throwing you over the wall like a sack of potatoes. The walls were high yes, but not immensely so, a giant, powerful wave could have easily washed over them as if they were nothing

Really, what were the chances you’d wash up in a safe lagoon in the middle of a storm??

You can’t remember all the details very clearly, but you know for certain that you didn’t swim into the lagoon yourself, you remember the sea overpowering you, pushing you further under and fighting back against your thrashing legs and arms

You remember the fear, the blood chilling realisation that this is where you were going to meet your grave. At the bottom of the sea

You were drowning, you were going to die, and yet, despite all odds, you’re alive

Surely this couldn’t be dumb luck, it was just too convenient: the idea that the tide just happened to deliver your unconscious body into the lagoon, just happened to make you drift gracefully through the gap in the rocks rather than lobbing you over them, just happened to do all this before you drowned for real 

‘Unless…it wasn’t the sea that-!!’

Your seashell numbly fell from your hand

You don’t register it falling into the water with a light splash, nor do you register the large body of colour moving towards the lagoon, not until a body of red, blue, white and soft gray surges upwards from the water and has you wildly falling onto your back

The body of Optimus looms above you, strong arms that are twice the width of your body supporting him, while the end of his tail continues to sway in the water. Your chest heaves, eyes threatening to split your face from how they seemingly bug out of your skull from the sudden closeness

He’s pinned you beneath him on the rock, and your heart does a backflip involuntarily

You forget how to breath

Water cascaded down his body and drips down his chin, splashing onto your face, which seems to be the thing to urge you to do something, aside from lay there with your chest heaving like a petrified rabbit 

“Uh…H-Hi” you squeak, barely managing to move your fingers in a tiny wave 

If Optimus is at all aware of your fluster he is either oblivious to it, or was doing a very spectacular job of not showing it

His mouth pulled up into a smile at hearing your voice, sharp teeth glinting behind his lips that have your face turning darker, you can practically feel the heat travelling up to the tips of your ears 

You shuffle backwards as quickly as you can without infuriating your injury, coughing to find your voice “Heh, you uh..you were uhm, gone for a while” you start, completely unsure if there is even a way to smoothly transition to a conversation

Once you can comfortable sit with your injured leg outstretched, you are shocked again by Optimus when - instead of folding his arms and letting them rest on the rocky outcrop - he instead heaved his long, heavy body out of the water

Making a noise of concern you reach out and place your hand upon the scales of his arm as he settled in front of you “Wha- wait can you be fully out of the water?? Is that safe for you!”

At your touch, you instantly draw a pleased trill from him, the dominant fin that trails down the centre of his back and down his tail shivering happily. He offers you a gentle, assuring smile, before using the end of his tail to easily splash water up onto his body 

You get hit by a few drops of water in the process that draws a humoured huff from Optimus, the breath hitting your face and causing loose bits of your hair to be blown back 

You however, are far from being amused at his playfulness, your brain still whirling to digest your realisation 

It seemed whatever expression you were wearing was signal enough for the mer to gather you had something quite heavy on your mind, and he cocked his head at you, at once his amusement subsiding 

When you speak, your voice is quiet “Optimus..” the mer recognises the call of his name, offering you his full, undivided attention as you collect yourself to spit out the rest of your question 

“Did you…bring me to the lagoon?”

Who else could have??

Who else would know of such a safe, secure area for you to rest when hurt?? Who else could have easily swam you through the entrance and carefully laid you on the sand far away from the merciless crashing of waves?? Who else would have gone out of there way, in a storm of all things, to ensure your safety??

You’re not sure what type of reaction you were expecting, perhaps for him to give it a nervous second thought before answering? What you do not expect, is for Optimus to respond with a genuine, confident churr

Your eyes widen all over again

Optimus had been the one to bring you to the lagoon

Optimus had SAVED you

“Y-You…You..” you tried, stammering, his churr sounding so true that it threw you through several loops and then some. On the other hand, Optimus appeared unphased, he looked at you with such fond adoration, his smile small but real, that it was almost too much for you to process 

You try again to find your words, to say anything in response, but your throat continued to hold any half assembled words you’d strung together hostage, leaving you stuttering and red faced

Did Optimus understand the gravity of the deed he did? Did he know he had actually saved you from drowning?? That if he hadn’t found you, if he had been swimming at any other part of the island, if he’d shown up even a minute later then you might have..

“..Op..Optimus, I-I-”

He outstretched his hand, palm facing the sky, an object sitting there for you

At a glance, you thought it was some kind of weirdly shaped pebble, not the first of its type to be gifted to you by the mer. But when you look at it again, properly, you see the item for what it actually is

There's a tremble to your hands are you take the item slowly from him, being mindful of the bladed end against the fragile skin of your fingers 

“M-My…My knife..” you say, then, you whirl your face up to Optimus

He sits in a way an eager child would after they’ve handed someone a present, anticipating your reaction with a jubilant shine in his eye 

Meanwhile, yours shine for a different reason

You can’t think, can’t blink, can’t process why Optimus not only saved you, but returned your knife, the knife you had lost in the storm. How did he?!- WHY did he?!-

“You….You..” your voice is quiet, still in disbelief “Y-You went…looking for this?? Is THAT where you’ve been?!”

A collection of pleased chirps and trills is his answer, his fins raising as you clumsily fumble to inspect the handle of your knife

You miss is the first time when you try to grab for the string handle that dangles from the bottom, but you eventually manage to grasp it with your shaking fingers, pulling on it to free the flint striker that slotted into it when not in use

You can…you can start your fire with this. Prepare your fish, make a new shelter if you have to!

All because…Optimus went searching for it

He had no use for a knife, why would he?? His webbed appendages were already naturally sharp and his teeth even more so, why would he need to find a knife?? For you, that’s why 

For you

…Small, damp spots form on the material of your now dried trousers as moisture begins to freely fall down your face, your cheeks becoming sleek with them in a matter of seconds 

“T-This is…i-its..”

Your voice is devoid of its usually cheery quality that Optimus had come to admire so much, now, you only sound confused, sad, it doesn’t sit right with him at all

Afraid that he is the cause, Optimus ducked his head to try and catch your eye, but he barely gets a glance at your face before a broken sob rips out of your throat, startling him back 

You sob, your knife clattering to the rocky surface beneath you as your hands fly up to desperately hide your face and muffle your howling. The sound of Optimus’s panicked chirps as he tries to figure out what has caused you such unexpected distress are drowned out under the sound of your gross sniffling and crying 

You hiccuped, choking for air past your sobbing, body trembling. Your rocked with a wail, curling up to bury your face in your palm before Optimus can see 

Your heart was flooded with gratitude, overflowing with warmth and approval for the grand mermaid the likes of which you had never felt for any other being before. But alongside it, was a just as immense sense of confusion, of astonishment, of fear

Why? Why was Optimus so-…why would he bother-

“T-This!-..T-This is-” you hiccup, sniffling loudly as you clumsily wipe your eyes “T-This is..t-the nicest thing anyones ever done for me!!” you wail, head still ducked so low that Optimus can’t see your face. 

He churrs and chirps non-stop, desperately trying to figure out how he should proceed, you should say something to calm him, to promise him you are the furthest thing from disappointed at his act of kindness, but all you can think to say is:

“W-Why?..” You croak, pulling at the bottom of your shirt as a makeshift rag, wiping it across your face “W-Why are you…y-you being so..” with courage, you shakily raise your head to Optimus, who cowers with a sad whine at the disheartening look on your tear stained face

Your eyes were puffy, red, and you looked so utterly lost and confused that it caught him so off guard he almost slipped off the edge of the rock. With a trembling voice, you manage to finish your query: “Why are you being so…n-nice to me??”

Optimus found himself frozen, like ice had been injected into his being, he had never expected such an intense bout of tears from you from his gift. Was it not to your liking? Had he overstepped?? If only you could simply tell him what was wrong, he would fix it!

It took your sight becoming blurry once again, and a hiccup to escape your throat do you process that you were crying again

You knew you shouldn’t, you knew it would only make Optimus more stressed, but you just couldn’t stop it, you couldn’t stop it from building and overflowing inside you

You hugged yourself, arms tightly wrapping around your body with your head hung low. You must look so tiny to Optimus, so small and dramatic, he must be revolted at your improper reaction to his generous, meaningful gift..

A gentle nudge to the side of your head as Optimus, with all the tenderness he could muster, softly touched the side of your head in a brief nuzzle. He chirped, but you refused to abide to his wordless request, furiously shaking your head

Something woeful fell over his expression, and knowing you were the cause only makes the ache in your chest double 

You just didn’t understand, why was Optimus so caring towards you?? Why you?? Why not another mer?? What made you so…special to him??

Carefully, with precise movements, Optimus slowly curled himself around you, circling you protectively with his tail. Still with care, churring sadfully at your sniffling, he laid his chin upon your good leg, staring upward at you 

You didn’t want to look at him, you knew it would just cause you to break further, and yet, your head slowly turned without thought, hands moving away from your face until you meet his:

The look on his face, the way he looks at you - you feel your heart simultaneously break and swell 

You were uncertain just how much Optimus was able to understand the true extent of your muddled emotions, you weren’t even sure just how much you could make sense of them. But what you were certain of was the weight in your chest, and how looking at Optimus, seeing the honest to goodness care in his eyes made it feel just that bit lighter

All for you, imperfect, messy, unique you 

You reached for him, gently cupping either side of his face with your hands that looked dwarfed in comparison. He leaned into the touch, quietly churring. Tears welled back up in your glossy eyes, shivering from the intensity of your emotions 

Your voice wobbled as you spoke “T-Thank you”

Without asking, your tone conveying enough, Optimus moved forward. You carefully wrapped your arms around his head, pulling him to your chest where you lowered your head into the crown of his own, sobbing quietly, soft sniffles leaving you ever now and then 

An arm gently wrapped around you, his hand reaching for the small of your back where he simply supported you. After a moment, he began to churr again, the calming vibrations reminding you of a large, purring cat

Before you can stop it, you huff out a tired snicker at the amusing comparison 

The length of Optimus’s grand tail curls tighter around you, safely cocooning you, you had never felt so safe and grounded then right there, in the centre of his embrace, his head nuzzling into your stomach.

You held him tightly, trying to return even a fraction of the feeling of security you felt by his presence

“Thank you..” you said again, and you meant it

[elliottswaterlilies]

So what's Crystal's/Potato's backstory exactly? Like did Uzi and N come across her while hunting and collectively decided "our baby now"? Also I did notice she only seems to have one arm, did she lose the other one?

Potato's lore [which I'll just refer her as for simplicity sakes; also bc bouncing her diff names may get confusing] is actually kinda. Sad </3 so incoming for implied heavy themes;; also kinda long, I like to ramble soooo yeah :p

Potato was actually found by V first!

V was out finding drone parts for Nori [who has gotten a body at this point in this continuation. also the disassembly drones kinda?? (not entirely) work under Nori] when she stumbled upon a couple of murked drones, precisely a deceased couple & pod. It struck her as odd since she didn't recognize who the drones were or the fact there didn't seem like any of the disassemblers were behind it. Her attention was grabbed by a nearby, busted out car, & that's where she would find Potato; laying there, injured & scared, somehow surviving whatever had attacked the family.

Obvs first instinct was to bring the droneling [funny name ik] back & she was put under Nori's watch for awhile.. mostly bc V was unsure if she was qualified to take care of another kid, at least at the time [which in this continuation/au, she is paired up with Lizzy & those two already have a kid named Harley (owned by my bro @teddyberrii)].

That's really when Uzi & N step in, since at this point the two have been trying for a kid for awhile now to no avail; they didn't know Potato was in the Doorman residence/Nori's workshop until her little head poked out the doorway & they all stared at each other like deer in headlights. It is safe to say that Potato was already up Uzi's leg, clinging to her like a baby koala & she simply accepted the drone as her new kiddo [especially since it would a week or two & no additional family member of hers seemed to come pick up Potato... so she was officially a Doorman.]

Regarding some of Potato's scars [on her face, the lack of an arm, etc], they were inflicted. She's almost completely mute & doesn't really talk; essentially Potato's been through some.. hardy stuff & honestly it takes a long time to really come to terms with a lot of things [childhood trauma does wonders for you /sar.] However, pretty much after getting adopted by Uzi & N.. her life gets better! Despite now being in a family of, what everyone assumes, of mix-matched monsters & unimaginable eldritch horrors.. she is very happy! She gets to grow up with parents that love her dearly & recover from that past trauma.

Will I go into more Potato lore? Yeah, I plan to; not trying to be too secretive since I'm unsure if I'll ever make a story outta this but eh we'll see.. hope this answers something for you anon <3

..also if you, or anyone else, are curious; Potato's real name is Crystal. I just refer to her as Potato bc that was her placeholder name.. & I just never got rid of it! Thought it was funny.

[prismuffin]

Idk why this is so funny to me, but how would the Batfam react to Tim Drake making a contract with a demon Male reader?

Like a part of the demon contract deals, is neither party demon nor the human can say what the contract is. So the batfam has no context what, so why is the demon there and follows around Tim.

Batman ofc dragged a favour out of Constantine, and John explains that many contracts have one rule that the contract can be told to others, of what it is. But he can give them info of the demon, which Male Reader is a demon that rules over psychology and secrets.

So when Tim is doing another "all-nighter" (it's going on 29 hours of being a wake), the batfam notices the demon getting agitated watching Tim and speaks 'Do you remember the rules of our contract?' , Tim sighing in stubbornness says 'Yes, but I'm almost done with this breakthrough'.

After one more hour, Demon Reader gets up and taps Tim's shoulder and possesses him. Immediately saving his work, and begins doing all of the self-care tasks Tim's been putting off. Like dumping out his coffee, and drinking water, taking a shower, eating a balanced meal and doing his laundry. While Tim's mind is asleep in his subconscious.

Ooooo I kinda like this idea ok soooo I think that-

At first glance everyone is definitely thrown off by your presence. Why in the world would Tim do something like this out of nowhere? Damian is just intrigued and curious, mostly asking you questions that you promptly ignore. Dick, and Jason are immediately concerned, throwing out question after question about why Tim would do this but he never tells them. So the first thing they do is run to Bruce who just goes to John to see if he has any information on the type of demon you are. John does his little investigation on you and immediately recognizes you as a type of psychological demon, so he tells them not to worry about it too much. That doesn't stop them from being warry about you as you follow Tim around. They'd try to make idle chatter here and there but you'd always respond quickly, being too focused on Tim to really care about anyone else. It made it hard to build trust with you so they were never 100% sure you wouldn't cause any harm to Tim. Until one day at least.

Of course there came a time where Tim refused to sleep as he worked on his latest breakthrough. The others had tried to get him to away from his lab and into a bed or at the very least the kitchen to eat a meal but it was no use, until you that is. Around the 29th hour of Tim's all-nighter the others had heard some commotion from his lab. Going to check it out they found you nagging him to take a break and rest while reminding him about the rules of your covert contract. When he'd ignored you one last time you took matters into your own hands, possessing Tim and forcing him to get up and take care of himself. The others were definitely freaked out until they noticed you simply cleaning up his desk before moving to the bathroom where you made sure his teeth were brushed and his face was washed. You'd made him take a shower, eat, hydrate, and all in all just did menial tasks for him, making sure he was taken care of. It boggled everyone's minds somewhat but it sort of confirmed Johns suspicions that you wouldn't be a threat to anyone, let alone Tim.

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