#soft is not weak!

[tumblweeds-omegaverse]

This is very true! I think it's easy to forget, sometimes, that physical strength isn't the only power that matters.

(and doesn't that say a lot about the stories we've been brought up with, what our societies values are, how strength and heroism and courage have been coded for us!)

If you know you can't win in a head to head battle, what sense does it make to fight that way? Instead, you'd come up with other methods.

And you would choose your battles very carefully...when you only have one chance, it has to count.

So yeah, omegas that know very well how to make themselves look harmless. Omegas who play up the stereotypes in order to be underestimated. Support groups of omegas who take what they have control over and use that as a shield.

Does the society wave off certain aspects of life as "just for omegas"? Are things that are for omegas are seen as weak or lesser? Are there entire parts of society that are basically ignored?

Then that weaving or quilting circle is full of wisdom that never got recorded, but still was spread. Those songs aren't just songs, they're messages of hope passed down from one generation to the next. That book of recipes wasn't just for next week's dinner.

(of course it isn't the kind of world one should aspire towards. when people know better, they should try to be better. but depending on where you are in history, it might still be a long trip ahead)

And, cornered animals fight back. Even creatures that don't normally eat certain things might try, if it's that or starvation.

So an omega that's pushed out of fawn or flight and into fight? Absolutely should do some damage, even if they can't win a fair fight.

(can't be a fair fight if the scales were against them from the start! so why expect them to play at it? go for the junk, throw sand in the eyes, sucker punch and then run)

Give your omegas the secret tricks, the clever escape routes, the poison slipped into a strong tasting drink. Or give them the sharpest teeth, the most deadly claws, a long history of consequences for underestimating them.

But the group who carries the young, who protects those too weak to run for safety, should never be entirely helpless. And if they can defend their pups, why not themselves, too?

(the view of "sure omegas aren't physically the biggest, but they are the most deadly, like 'could literally tear the throat out of their prey with their teeth as a hunting technique' dangerous" was one of the things that made the omegaverse worldbuilding gears start turning for me! so I'm very biased)

lol i had more to say here than i thought i did

I need people to understand that omegas are NOT helpless 😭😭

The whole omegaverse thing is a biological exaggeration of male and female stereotypes/standards, so sure, omegas are expected to be soft and sweet but damn, do they fight dirty. Alphas are all brute strength and punches and kicks, but omegas are scrappy and clever. The usual high school fight between girls, turned up even more vicious: hair pulling, scratching nails, knowing all the spots that’ll hurt like hell. Oh—and biting.

Sure, an alpha will probably overpower an omega in a 1v1 boxing match. No duh. But omegas will latch onto you and gouge your eyes out, rip the cartilage of your ears. Grab your head by your hair and bash it into the ground over and over and over again. Especially since they’re fast, and quick, and there is most certainly force behind agility. Besides, you think an omega would leave their alpha behind in a fight? They’re not diving for safety; they’re tag-teaming by ripping flesh from bone.

They are not helpless.

And of course, that’s talking outright physical fights. I’d like to think omegas have protected themselves from alphas in other ways, as women in real life have for millennia—support systems, omega-only safe havens, and when necessary, a little poison something-something to get away from an abusive alpha.

[marsalta]

Someone’s a little sleepy

[elv-arts]

Was doodling + made an attempt to figure this guy out in a more "realistic" style. idk

+ bonus fidds doodles below

[greenwriterplaidbow]

Human Connection

Part I

Logan Howlett x reader with injury related memory loss

Word count: 4.7k

A/N: Inspired by @pandapetals’ memory loss fic (it's taken over all by thoughts since I read it) as well as the song We’ll Never Have Sex by Leith Ross. Sorry in advance, this is probably going to be a series, I was going to make it all one story but it’s already this long and I haven’t gotten to what I wanted to get to.

Warnings: a combination of angst and fluff, suggested feminine reader (called Logan’s wife, she/her used once) but no true descriptions, if you’re an English teacher you’ll hate this because I mix past and present tense verbs. Sorry if it bothers you, it’s my primary grammatical weakness.

The doctor’s words felt monotonous and cold. Logan looked to you. Your eyes trained on the doctor, your blanketed knees pulled up to your chest, your arms loosely held around them. You had been conscious for around 24 hours and he’d hardly seen you. Admittedly at your specific request, ‘your hovering around is making me kinda anxious’ were the exact words. The sting of the words stuck in his mind. The doctor told the two of you the state of your condition, monitoring and treatment outline, and the information needed to fill out the discharge papers. You would walk away mostly fine. You survived the accident, lucky you!

But you didn’t feel lucky. You felt frustrated and unsettled. Maybe even a little scared. You had woken up to a man you’d never seen whispering to you in your sleep, seemingly close to tears. When he noticed you awake he asked you questions you didn’t know the answers to and claimed to be your husband. You had never been married and given the fact that he looked as though he hadn’t showered or slept in days, this was obviously a psych patient who had wandered into your room. But it wasn’t. The doctors could confirm, according to the paperwork and pictures, you were this man’s wife. He’d continued to be around you, he clearly wanted to help in any way he could but you couldn’t handle the way he wouldn’t take his eyes off you.

You had few memories, almost none of them were recent. Not even memories of your own identity were intact. Dissociative amnesia they called it. The staff stressed, to both you and this Logan guy, that your memories needed to come back on their own, he shouldn’t just tell you memories. He was allowed to help fill in details or answer small questions but that’s it. They said the best thing you could do right now would be to go back to your routine. They told him to act normal towards you as much as possible. You didn’t even know what that would look like. It was weird being addressed as a unit. Talked to like he was ‘your other half’ or whatever people say.

“Here is the form. Either of you can fill it out, I’ll just need both of your signatures at the bottom.” The nurse’s words snap you back to reality. You nod and take the form. She checks your levels one last time before leaving you and the man alone in the room. You concentrate on the papers in front of you. You first take the pen off the clip board with your left hand then look at it confused. You stare a moment before shifting it to your right hand, then back to your left before just setting it down again and leaning over the small table as you breathe out slowly.

“You’re right handed.” The man said quietly.

You look over at him. He sits on your left side. His knees are wide apart as he leans his body forward resting his forearms on his thighs with his fingers interlaced. He was watching you struggle with the pen. You nod slowly and pick up the pen with your right hand this time. You adjust your hand to hold it properly. It feels no more comfortable than in your left but you had to start somewhere. Okay first blank, patient name. Easy enough. You write your first name, middle initial, and-

You stop in your tracks. If you’re married, you wouldn’t necessarily have the same last name that you remember. You sit and think for a moment, determined to figure it out but you keep drawing a blank. An owl was the only thing that came to your mind when you thought of your last name. You bit the inside of your cheek before you sighed frustratedly. You put the pen back on the clipboard and slid the small table towards the man.

“Can you do this?” He perked up at your words.

“Yes- of course”

A small smile showed on his face as he took the clipboard, apparently happy to help. He filled in the blanks quickly as if he didn’t even have to think about the answers. Jealousy and shame flowed into your chest. Jealous that this random man knows you better than you know yourself. Shameful because of the pressure you’re already putting on yourself. You’ve always been independent. You like it that way. You like being known as the girl who has a man because she wants one not because she needs something from one. But now, you have no choice but to put your entire trust in someone you don’t know. Trust that he was going to tell you the truth about yourself. Trust he was going to remember what meds you needed and when to take them. Trust he was going to keep you safe both from yourself and someone who might want to take advantage of your current situation. The vulnerability it took to ask for help was already wearing away at your self esteem.

“Think that’s it. I’ll go bring this to the-”

“Wait, can I look at it first” Your hesitation was evident by the little shake in your voice.

“Sure but I promise, I know most of this by heart. And the stuff I didn’t know I got a refresher for when I filled out your admission forms.” He said it, clearly trying to make conversation but it only made you feel worse. You scanned over the form. Your birthday was the only thing you remembered, aside from your name but you didn’t even remember all of that so it didn’t quite feel the same.

“Howlett” You read the name off the sheet. It felt strange to say, even more so to think it now belonged to you.

“Yeah, that’s our last name.” You nodded and handed the form back and buried your head in your knees.

“What’s wrong? Are you starting to feel worse again?” You took a pause before answering him. When you raised your head, his eyes met yours and he could see tears welling up in them.

“I don’t even know my own stupid name- or my dominant hand. I feel so useless.” Logan set the form back on the table and knelt at your bedside.

“Hey, you are not useless. You’re sick right now, don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m here and I’ll help you with anything you need. I promise. I can help fill in what you don’t know”

“Thanks.. I know you’re trying to make me feel better but knowing that you know all this and I don’t, really only makes me feel worse. This guy I don’t even know knows more about me than I do.” You could immediately see the pain on his face from your statement. Another reminder that he was included in the gaps that still needed to be filled in.

“It- It’ll come back to you. You’ll be back to yourself in no time.” He said as he stood up. It sounded like the statement was just as much to comfort him as it was to comfort you.

“I’ll be right back.” You nodded and he left the room with the clipboard.

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You changed into the clothes Logan brought you. When you were all set to leave, you were told about your follow up appointment and picked up your meds. The two of you left the hospital and walked to Logan’s truck in the parking lot. He opened the door for you and held out his arm behind you as you climbed in to ensure you wouldn’t fall. You took note of the sweet gesture. Once he got into the drivers side, he slung the backpack that had held your clothes and now held your collection of meds onto the backseat. The drive was silent for a while before you broke the ice.

“I can not believe I married a man who drives a truck.” You half-joked as your fingers played with the wedding ring you still wore.

He smiled a little sadly, both amused at your distaste for truck owners and saddened at the reminder that you didn’t remember the man you married. He swallowed down his sadness to joke with you.

“Yeah? And what kind of man would you marry?” His unexpected response made you blush.

“Well, I don’t know.. Honestly I haven’t given it much thought. I guess I’m just not the marriage type.” Logan laughed quietly.

“Yeah- I guess you’d know that already.”

“No, no. It’s not that. It’s just funny that you think you’re the one who wasn’t marriage material. Normally people think that about me, not you.”

“Don’t be close minded- maybe neither of us are marriage material! Maybe those are the kinds that marry each other. I doubt most of those relationships last long though..” You regretted the words as soon as you realized what you had said.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sure we’re very happy.” You bit your lip and kept your eyes glued to your hands twiddling in your lap.

Logan didn’t know what to say so he opted to say nothing. The sound of the running engine and the wind outside the vehicle were the only sounds between you. Your thoughts were swarming in your mind. You turned your eyes to the window, trying to turn off your brain and just observe the unfamiliar scenery. Trees consumed the road on either side. You saw on the form that you lived in New York in some town you hadn’t heard of.

“So how far into the woods do we live?” You turn back towards him as you said it.

“Close enough to walk into town but far enough that we don’t see our neighbors unless we’re trying to.”

You nodded and made a sound of acknowledgement.

“That’s why you smell like pine?”

“Uh, I guess. Didn’t realize I did. I guess I’m just used to it.”

“That would make sense.” You lost interest in the conversation when you realized you had turned onto a side road. From the side road you went up a driveway.

He wasn’t kidding, if you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t know there was anyone even remotely close. Trees seemed to swallow you whole as you approached the house.

“Look familiar?” He asked tentatively. You studied the outside of the house then the inside as you pulled into the garage. You wanted to say yes but in reality it looked entirely foreign.

“No, sorry.” You answered softly.

“That’s alright, I was just curious.” He tried to keep the longing sadness from his voice. He was not successful. He grabbed the backpack and left the truck. You followed him but your eyes couldn’t help traveling over the room. You stepped inside the house and mirrored Logan as he took off his boots and placed them behind the door.

He watched your movements as you hesitantly followed him. He smiled at the realization that you were almost acting like a puppy dog, eager to take in information and follow instructions but still tentative about both him and the surroundings.

“I should probably show you around,”

“Yes, please.”

It was a split level house. He showed you the basement first. The guest room, storage room, furnace room, a mostly unused living room. He explained small things about each room when necessary. As you headed back up the stairs you felt brave enough to ask more questions.

“So we live alone? Just the two of us?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No pets? No family? No transient friends that feel comfortable enough to invite themselves over when they need a place to stay? Nothing?” Your question made Logan visibly nervous. He now stood across from you as you stood at the top of the steps.

“Uh, no. Not really. Why?” His confusion was mixing with anxiety.

“No reason.”

“..Are you uncomfortable staying alone with me?” His expression looked sad but understanding.

“Oh no, not that. Well a little. But no, that’s not why I asked.” He was silent waiting for you to explain, which you did when the silence became too uncomfortable. You forced your eyes to stay on his when you finally spoke.

“I’m just worried about you. You’re dealing with a lot, you should be with other people. People who care about you and know how to take your mind off everything. I just don’t want you to burn yourself out trying to do all this alone.” Your words hit him like a train. You were the one who was sick and you still worried about him, even when he was a complete stranger to you. He looked like he could cry. He took a half step towards you before stopping himself,

“Can I hug you?”

You nodded as you took a step closer to him, embracing him. His large arms engulfed your shoulders. He held you close like you might spontaneously vanish if he didn’t anchor you to himself. Your arms came around to his upper back where you rubbed his back lightly, trying to comfort him. When your nails softly scratched against his shirt, his face nuzzled deeper into your neck. You couldn’t tell if he was crying or not. Not that you cared either way, you understood. You couldn’t even imagine what he was feeling. This large, strange, kind man had completely bent himself over backwards just to take care of you. The least you could do is try and comfort him. The two of you stood there for longer than either of you thought you would. He gave you one final squeeze before parting. He kept his hands on your shoulders for a second as he looked at you. He sniffed as he looked away and took a few steps back.

“Sorry.” His breathing was unsteady.

“Don’t be.” You shrugged. “You’re allowed to be sad. You’re kind of grieving, in a way.” Your words were meant to be comforting as much as forcing him to face the reality of the situation.

“Don’t say that, you’re going to remember. It just takes time.” There was a desperation in his voice. Like he was trying to convince you both.

“I know. I’m not saying I won’t. But right now, you’re living with someone who doesn’t know you.. The woman you know, the woman you love, is as good as dead. As of right now anyways.” He studied your face as you said it and nodded after you’d finished speaking. He bridged the gap between the two of you once more to press a kiss onto your forehead. He sighed but didn’t pull away from you when he spoke.

“Let me finish showing you around.” He whispered the words warmly against your skin.

“Okay.” You whispered in return.

As promised, he showed you the living room, kitchen, and dining area; all close together at the top of the steps. Down the hall there was a bathroom, an office, and finally your shared bedroom. He lets you walk into the room, he crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. You cautiously walked around the room, taking everything in. The walls were a calm green that paired well with the browns and yellows of most other things in the room. On the nightstand closest to the door there was an assortment of crystals, papers, wire wrapped shells, chapstick, handwritten notes, bracelets sitting inside a teacup, a clock, and a pair of glasses. You turned back to Logan.

“This is my side of the bed?” He nodded. You opened the drawers of your nightstand. Books, sleeping meds, pen and paper, nothing of interest upon first glance. You walked over to the other side, glancing back at Logan, searching his face for permission to poke around. You couldn’t read his expression.

“Mind if I snoop?”

“Go ahead. It’s all stuff you’ve seen before.”

You tried to turn your full attention to his nightstand but you could see him move out of the corner of your eye. He entered what you assumed was the closet, which was currently behind you. Back to trying to learn about Logan through how he kept his things. His nightstand was less cluttered than yours. There was a notepad and pen, reading glasses, a clock matching yours, and three pictures of you. One was in a frame, one was a polaroid, and the last one was printed out, you’d guess from a digital camera. All pictures were in places you didn’t remember with people you didn’t recognize. You looked happy. The picture in a frame was from your wedding. Logan and you were all dressed up, looking at each other. Although it was clear the two of you were posing, your smiles seemed genuine. The other two were candids, laughing with friends in one while in the other your face held a look of recognition like someone took the photo right as you saw the camera. You were happy or relieved to see whoever was holding the camera. You guessed Logan himself based on your relationship and where you found the photo.

“Sorry,” He moved past you and set his phone on his nightstand.

“I’m going to go shower. You’re welcome to as well, I’ll shower downstairs so if you want to, the option is there. Or wait until later, I just don’t want to smell like the hospital anymore”

“Yeah I will probably take you up on that, where do I keep my clothes?”

He directed you to where you keep your pajamas as well as showing you to your half of the closet, pointing out where you keep underwear and socks.

“Let me know if you need anything.” You nodded and thanked him. He went downstairs. You felt like looking around some more. A bin of stuffed animals under your side of the bed. Saw the books on the shelves in the office. Check out the cupboards, familiarize yourself with where things belong. Out the kitchen window, the woods catch your eye. You feel a sudden urge to go walking in the wet grass. You look towards the lower level then back at the back door. You’d surely be back before he was out of the shower. You just needed to indulge this feeling. Then you’d come right back. It’s midday, it’s not like it is dangerous at this hour.

You step out onto the patio. You walked in the directions you felt pulled in. Following some imaginary trail, bare feet sinking into the puddles in the grass. It had been an especially wet April and the heavy clouds overhead suggested tonight would follow the trend. You found a hammock in a small clearing not far from the house. You sat upright on it, like a swing. You crossed your ankles and leaned forward, palms placed beside your knees, pressing onto the fabric beneath you. The silence felt comfortable. You relaxed more than you had been in recent days. The silence allowed your mind to wander through your thoughts just as you had through the trees. The calm around you soon contrasted with the spiraling thoughts that took over your mind. It didn't feel like you had forgotten anything but logically, you knew years had passed since the last things you remember. Logically you knew Logan had to know you intimately and clearly cared deeply for you but, you didn't know how to make yourself return his feelings. There was guilt in not being who you were apparently supposed to be. You hated the pained look in his eyes he when stared at you. The hot tears that rolled down your face contrasted with the cool air around you. Your face hung down and your eyes traced the ground through blurred vision. You felt like you had been sitting here for hours. Your thoughts drowned out the once comfortable silence and along with it, Logan's panicked voice in the distance. He stumbled into the clearing.

"Jesus-” He huffed, catching his breath. “Don't run off like that. What the hell are you doing out here? How did you know where this was? Did you remember something?"

His rapid fire questions and loud voice were overwhelming.

"N-no, I don't know. I just felt like this is where I should go. I didn't mean to worry you- please don't yell at me" your plea took him by surprise as he realized his worry made him louder than he intended. He took a quick step towards you and you unconsciously flinched. He took care to make the last steps toward you slower before he crouched down so he was looking up at you. There was a gentleness that now replaced the panic in his voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.. I didn't know where you were or what happened. I just- you're not yourself right now, even if you had your memories, you still have a brain injury. I just don't want you to get lost. At least if you're going to go exploring, leave a note?"

You nodded and wiped away tears from your face.

"Do you want me to leave you alone out here for a while?"

"No, I'll come in with you.. I really don't know why I came out here, it just felt like I should. I don't know why." You still tried to explain yourself as you got up from your spot. Logan stood up and started leading towards the house.

"Maybe subconsciously you remember coming out here."

"Maybe.. I don't know why I would. It's not exactly nice out."

"You didn't just go when it was nice, you like being out there when you feel upset. Sometimes if we have a fight you'll go sit out there for a while. Sometimes you're upset with someone else and you drag me out there with you and tell me about it. You just don't like bringing that stuff home."

"Oh. Am I out there a lot?"

"No, not really. Sometimes you have a bad week and you'll be out a few days in a row but that's not very common. Just once in a blue moon, as you'd say." He smiles at the memory as he opens the door for you. You step in and dry your feet on the mat. He takes off his shoes and carries them to the front door. As he walked off you noticed his hair was wet and a t-shirt and plaid pajama pants had replaced his flannel and jeans from the hospital. You could really see how muscular he was through his shirt that hugged him tighter than the flannel did.

“You look better than you did at the hospital.”

“Hm? Oh, thanks.”

“Don't get me wrong you pull off the disheveled look but now you look better, like people wouldn't worry about you if they saw you like this.”

“Not sure that's the compliment you think it is.” He smiled as he said it.

“I'm aware. Still felt like you should hear it.”

“Whatever you say. Do you still want to shower now or do you want to wait until later tonight?”

“No, I'll just get in now.”

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You leaned your face towards the bottle of the more feminine looking soap, assuming it was yours, trying to use it as an olfactory trigger. It didn’t work. You got out of the shower and dried your hair in front of the mirror and something caught your eye. Your skin carried stories in the form of deep scars that decorated your body. Old bullet wounds and healed cuts lied among the new gashes and scratches from your accident. You ran your hands over some of the small lines of scar tissue, unsure if you wanted to know the stories they had to tell. You rewrapped your bandages. The bandages and cuts from your accident made you glad to have such baggy pajamas.

You left the bathroom after getting dressed and found Logan laying on your side of the bed, staring at the ceiling. He sat up when you came into the room, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Oh, hey- Sorry I know this is your side, I just-” He stumbled over his words while trying to justify his actions but you cut him off.

“You don’t need to explain, it’s alright.” You gave him a small, tight-lipped smile. The kind you’d give a stranger who held a door for you.

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You spend the rest of the evening on the couch, doodling next to Logan as he reads some papers. Neither of you spoke. Eventually it came time for you to go to bed, forcing the two of you into conversation.

“I can sleep in the guest room, if you’d be more comfortable that way.” He offered as he walked you to the bedroom.

“That’s all the way downstairs, right?” You looked up at him as you sat on the bed.

“Yes.”

“Then no..” You paused after saying it.

“I can stay up here on the couch if you want me to be closer. Whatever you want.”

You shook your head adamantly. “Not whatever I want, I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.”

“Baby, I would be happy as a clam at high tide just sleeping on the floor at the foot of our bed.” The way the pet name so easily left his lips made you blush.

“W-well- you can be just as happy sleeping in your own bed.” He sighed in defeat before nodding.

“Alright. I can do that.” He shut the door behind him as he walked into the room.

“Given your apprehension to stay in the same bed, I assume it goes without saying but, I still don’t know you.. For you, you’re sleeping next to your wife but for me, I’m sleeping next to this man I met yesterday.. I just..” You trailed off.

“I’ll stay on my side of the bed, no problem.” He finished your thought casually.

“Thanks..”

“Of course, I just want you to feel comfortable and safe in your own home.”

“That.. means a lot. Thank you Logan.” He nodded before shutting off the lamp on his side of the bed.

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It wasn’t a particularly cold night but you still felt a chill creep over your skin under the blankets. To your memory, you had slept alone most nights so this was what you were used to. So why did you feel more alone than ever with Logan less than a foot away? You could feel the heat ghosting off his skin even from where you laid. The loneliness sank into your chest making you feel colder than you actually were. You mentally fought yourself, it was only a few hours ago that you were telling him not to touch you and now you were considering asking him to put his arm around you? Talk about mixed messages. What if he was the type of guy to take approval to cross one boundary as approval to do whatever he wanted? What if he thought this meant you had your memories again? What if-

Your thoughts were cut off by the sound of Logan sighing quietly as he rolled over and shifted to get comfortable. He was awake. If you were going to ask, now would be the best time, right? You gathered your courage before you spoke.

“Logan?” You asked barely at a whisper.

“Hm?” His sleepy reply made you feel guilty for bothering him.

“Could you- .. I mean if you wanted to you could- you don’t have to but.. Um. Would you put your arm around me?”

“You want me to hold you?”

“I mean.. Only if you want to. I just- It’s cold over here and I can feel the heat coming off of you and I- .. I just feel so lonely for some reason.” Your voice dropped even quieter as you ended your statement.

“Yes, of course I will. Tell me if I do anything you don’t like; you’re allowed to push me back over to my side, alright?” You nodded as he pulled you into his broad chest. He felt warm and comforting. He kept his hand innocently at your abdomen. The two of you both slept the best you had all week. Tangled together like lovers.

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Author's second note! Thank you for reading my first true fanfiction that's been put on Beyoncé's public internet for anyone to judge. Speaking of judging I'm very open to feedback if you have any.

I want to have the next part up soon but tragically, I have two big projects coming up not to mention finals week. College is eating me alive so we'll see when I string enough coherent sentences together the next part.

PS I'm still trying to figure out pictures so that's why these three at at the bottom. If I figure it out, I'll add them at the top but uhhh we'll see

I FIGURED IT OUT LETS GOO

[harmonysixx]

just go away Wars

very quick, sloppy thing I did for a sprint prompt on the LU discord server. Cleaned up the colors a little afterwards, but had no motivation left to work on it further :')

[deepspacenova]

BEAUTY VERSUS BEAST

1000 words. Banter. Tension. Hurt/comfort. AU (not as much anymore, I guess).

Note: Had this ready to go and then our actual beast Sylus was announced so let’s just roll with it xx

"Ow. That hurts," he bites out, the lines of his forearms tensing against the pressure of her palm.

Rolling her eyes, she dips the blood-soaked cloth in water and wrings it out before gliding it over the same spot.

“Stop, I said that hurts.” Sylus snarls, yanking his arm from her grasp.

“Well maybe if you’d stop jerking your arm around it wouldn’t hurt so much,” she fires back.

Swiping her hair from her eyes, she ignores his warning growl, grabbing his arm back and holding it toward the icy white light filtering through the velvet curtains.

“You should’ve listened when I said not to go in there.” He repeats, the words grating like stones against each other. But there's something... softer beneath them.

As if she hadn’t heard him the first three times. She snaps, “Well maybe you should’ve listened to me, instead of unleashing your damn temper.”

She’s locked in a silent battle, anger and confusion and... gratitude swirling together like the snowflakes outside. She still can’t believe he’d saved her like that — so viciously, so single-mindedly.

“But, um—“ she trails off. She looks down, blowing another piece of hair from her face as she presses the cloth down once again.

There’s a sudden warmth against her cheek, brushing the offending strand from her face and tucking it away behind her ear. The care of the motion was entirely at odds with the sharpness of his tone moments ago.

The shell of her ear is traced by what could only be the heated pad of a finger for just a heartbeat longer than necessary before it vanishes, leaving cool air in its absence.

She looks up, eyes wide just as Sylus snatches his hand back. A faint pink tint deepens on his cheeks and he clears his throat.

“Thank you. For saving me.”

“Don’t mention it, kitten.”

Her lips part, a retort forming, but the words catch in her throat. The nickname lingers between them, heavy and electric, sending a flush crawling up her neck. She should roll her eyes again but instead, she finds herself holding his gaze.

“I really wish you’d stop calling me that,” she mutters, her beating heart pounding away the biting tone she’d intended.

His lips tipped up, eyes flicking to the heat she could feel spreading across her cheeks. “Why’s that?”

“Because it’s ridiculous,” she sighs, focusing back on the wound, though her hand hesitates mid-movement. “I’m not some— some pet, Sylus.”

“No, you’re not a pet.” He lowers down, the sudden proximity capturing her next inhale. He'd been sitting in his chair, forearm resting on the arm for her ministrations, but now his elbows are on his knees, and the faint scent of leather and smoke cloud her senses. “But you’re fierce. And beautiful. And mine.”

Her hand stills completely, the cloth slipping from her fingers and into the bowl with a soft plop. She looks up at him, her heart thundering against her ribs. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?” he asked, his expression softening. He reaches out again, more confident this time, his knuckle brushing her cheek. “You don’t see it, do you? The way you throw yourself into danger without thinking."

His knuckle traces the curve of her jaw. "The fire in your eyes when you’re yelling at me."

"The way you make me feel like I’d burn the world down to keep you safe.” The knuckle comes to rest below her bottom lip.

“Sylus…” Her words get lost in the breath, leaving her lungs in a shaky exhale.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he reassures, her pulse thundering in her ears as his words wrap around her, thick and heavy. His gaze dips to her lips. “But if you want me to stop, you’d better say something now.”

She swallows hard, the air between them thick and meaningful and loud in the absence of her words.

His hand slides to the back of her neck with a firm, almost possessive grip. His thumb brushes against her skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “Good."

Before she could reply — or protest, though she isn’t sure she wants to — he closes the distance, the space between them vanishing with a tension that feels like the air before a lightning strike.

The kiss isn’t soft or tentative; it's raw, consuming. A declaration as much as it's an action. His mouth claims hers with a fervor that leaves no room for doubt, his hand fisting in her hair to hold her exactly where he wants her. The warmth of his body radiates against hers, his uninjured arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her up onto the chair, erasing what little space had remained.

She gasps against his mouth and he takes advantage, deepening the kiss with an urgency that matches hers. His teeth graze her bottom lip, a teasing nip that makes her muscles loosen and she has to lace her fingers into his hair to make her remember he's hurt.

“Mine,” he breathes against her lips, his voice a husky growl.

Her mind spins, her heart racing as she tried to push back the swirl of emotions overwhelming her. But when her hands grip his shoulders, instead of pushing him away, she pulls him closer, matching his intensity with a fierceness of her own.

For a moment, nothing else exists — just the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips, and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, she isn’t as alone as she thought.

[unpersoniverse]

I saw a tweet that said Korra's only a softie around Asami and one thing led to another...

[astagsart]

art dump this is literally all I draw rn

[hyperactively-me]

high

He whips his head around when he hears his name, eyes half-lidded. He stumbles over towards Johnny, then leans on him, placing most of his body weight onto Johnny. You stare straight at him, slightly confused.  “Oi, who’s this li’l bird then?” he slurs. Johnny stills, eyes flicking towards yours, his mouth agape. In a flash, he slams his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. 

simon is high off his ass from anesthesia and you have to deal with him. (does this count as a sick trope?? idk)

(asks are open)

happy reading

warnings: none

You didn’t know your boyfriend was coming back home tonight until you heard a hard knock on the door. The sun had already set long ago, you were settled on the couch with a good book and a cup of your favorite drink. You were forced out of your focus by a hard knock at the door. Immediately, you perk up, a little confused on who’s knocking this late in the evening. Setting your book down, you make your way to the front door. For a moment, you hesitate, and decide to peek out the window before opening the door just in case. Imagine the surprise on your face when you see Simon and Johnny standing outside the door. In a flash you’re at the door and throw it open in one swift movement. 

“Johnny?” you say, bewildered. Johnny has, what you presume to be, Simon’s bag of belongings slung over his shoulder. Your eyes dart back and forth from Johnny to Simon, who’s standing a few feet behind him looking at some nonexistent thing out in the distance. 

Before you can say anything, Johnny strides up to you, leaning down to whisper to you. 

“Lassie, listen here, he jus’ had a medical procedure done an’–”

Your face immediately morphs into concern. 

“What?”

“He was stabbed durin’ the mission. But there was a medical procedure done, stitches n’ all. 

The color drained from your face. “W- what–,” you take a deep breath trying to steady your racing thoughts. 

“No, no, don’t worry, he’s fine now, he’s just high off the anesthesia…”.

You nod your head at Johnny, mentally preparing to deal with this high behemoth of a man. You look over Johnny’s shoulder and simply say, “Simon.”

He whips his head around when he hears his name, eyes half-lidded. He stumbles over towards Johnny, then leans on him, placing most of his body weight onto Johnny. You stare straight at him, slightly confused. 

“Oi, who’s this li’l bird then?” he slurs.

Johnny stills, eyes flicking towards yours, his mouth agape. In a flash, he slams his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. 

Confusion washes over you, your eyebrows raised as Simon wriggles his eyebrows at you. 

“I–” 

Before you could say anything, Simon gives you the most goofy, silly, suave-looking grin, like he’s trying to flirt with you. You immediately regret looking back at Johnny, as his face is now contorted into something that looks like pain from trying not to laugh. That sight itself nearly makes you laugh, so much so that you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep quiet. You try to put on your most serious face while Johnny is trying to compose himself by taking a deep breath. 

“A’right, Simon, here ya are,” Johnny squeaks out. You eye Simon wearily, worried about how severe his condition is just from seeing how completely out of it he looks. 

Johnny steps to the side, moving his arm to gently push Simon inside your shared apartment. Simon stumbles forward into you, nearly knocking you over because of his physique. You gasp, trying to find your footing as he leans his body weight on you. 

“Oh, sorry lovie,” Simon rasps, grabbing your shoulders tightly as he stands himself up straight. Well, he looks kinda lopsided. He dusts your shoulders off as if he dirtied them, then squeezes your arms gently before pulling away. Johnny is trying not to laugh, your face flustered even more.

Johnny had followed you inside, motioning to the bag he still had slung over his shoulder, an amused expression present on his face.

“I’mma leave this here. It’s all of Simon’s belongins’.” You watch as he sets it down on the kitchen counter. 

“Thank you, Johnny. I appreciate you looking out for him,” you smile warmly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. 

“Ay, it's nothin’. I’ll be in contact with ya,” Johnny nods to you, smirking playfully at you for a moment, eyes darting between you and Simon. “Alrigh’, I’m leavin’ lassie. Good luck.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you one more time before pulling the door shut.

You move to lock the door behind him, sighing as the lock clicks. You turn back to look at Simon, leaning on the front door. 

“How are you feeling?” 

He looks you up and down, unmoving from where he is standing. Save for the slight swaying of his body. 

“‘M fine,” he grunts out quickly. “You’re very pretty, aren’t ya love?” his cheeks are flushed.

You push yourself off the door and move towards him, stopping a few feet away. You look straight into his eyes, and giggle out, “Thank you, Simon.”

He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing, but tries to act suave. You think it's just the cutest thing that he’s just flirting with you like you’ve never met. You smile to yourself, knowing you’re going to have so much fun teasing him about it when the anesthesia wears off. Taking Simon’s hand in yours, you tenderly usher him further inside towards the kitchen. Dropping his hand, you go to pull out a water bottle and some painkillers that he is definitely going to need when he wakes up in the morning. He shuffles behind you on his unsteady feet, following you like a shadow. You turn around with the items in your hand, using your free hand to grab Simon’s hand once more. He immediately tenses at your touch, but he doesn’t let go.

“C’mon, big guy,” you say, guiding him through the hallway slowly enough so he can walk in a straight line. He stumbles a few times, murmuring nonsense to himself, eyes trained on the floor in front of him as he shuffles his feet. 

He stumbles a few times, prompting you to resort to slinging his arm over your shoulder, carrying the brunt of his weight as you move down the hallway. He leans on you, breathy chuckling escaping, vibrating against your body. 

“Yer too short for your own good, bird,” he slurs, chuckling at the sight of you trying to maneuver him. 

“Ah, well, nothing I can do about it,” you giggle.

He doesn’t say anything, just lets out a small “Heh.” You assume he’s too gone to even respond properly. 

You kick open your shared bedroom door, much to his surprise. 

“Oi, take me out to dinner first lovie,” he looks down at you with a lopsided grin, hair tousled and wild.

“You’re a rascal, Si,” you huff, an amused smile creeping up on your face. “Let’s lay you on the bed, okay?” 

He nods quickly, pushing you off him in an attempt to walk by himself. You watch him take a few steps, eyeing him carefully as you set down the water bottle and medicine on the bedside table. You turn the bedside lamp on, casting a soft golden glow in the room. 

“Simon, hold on.” You turn to him, gently pushing him down to sit on the edge of your shared bed. He shifts his position until his back hits the headboard, eyes half-lidded and cloudy. 

“Eh, pushy aren’t ya? Y’know, really, a dinner would be nice, love.” 

You smile, shaking your head. Kneeling on the bed next to him, you take the water bottle and place it softly into his hands. “You should probably drink some of that. I’ll be right back.”

You push yourself off the bed, making your way into the bathroom to wet a warm towel to clean his face and body. 

You come back through the door frame only to see him trying to get off the bed, feet planted on the floor, unsteadily pushing himself to standing. He takes a few wobbly steps towards you, smirking with his eyebrows raised.

“No, no, lay back down,” you protest, gently trying to push him back towards the edge of the bed. 

“No, I just wanna say, bird, you and I, we should really go out sometime, y’know,” he looks at you with a serious expression on his face, placing his hands on his hips. 

You look up at him, mouth open, the corner of your lip perking up into a bewildered smile. 

“Oh my god, Si,” you laugh. “Okay, okay, but only if you sit down and drink some water,” you say firmly, crossing your arms over your chest, feigning frustration. 

His smile is huge. God, it makes your heart flutter seeing him smile like this, like there's nothing else in the world that matters. 

He sits back down on the bed, moving back to rest up against the headboard. He places his hands behind his head, an exaggeration of himself relaxing. 

“Simon, I need to take your shirt off…” you trail off, motioning to the wet towel in your hand, already having an inkling of what he’s going to say back to you.

“D’ you now,” settling back into the bed, the biggest smirk you’ve ever seen crosses his face. “Well, bird, you've certainly got a way with words. Can't say I've met someone as bold and direct as you before.”

You look at him, open mouthed. 

“If yer speechless now, wait ‘til you see what's under my shirt,” he says matter of factly, slurring the words.

You couldn't help but smile at his bold comment, finding his charm and mischievous confidence strangely attractive. His garbled statements just contributed to the situation's humor.

You try to compose yourself by raising an eyebrow and responding, “Oh, is that so? You've certainly sparked my interest now.”

“Mhmmm,” he draws out, hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt, trying his best to tug it off his frame. His smirk widens, and he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “Darlin’', you have no idea what you're in for.”

“Simon, now is not the time,” you giggle. You reach forward, pulling him from resting on the headboard so you can help maneuver his shirt off his body. His skin is burning hot under your touch. When it finally slips off his form, with much struggle, you huff, placing it on the bedside table. 

You kneel on the edge of the bed next to him, grasping the warm towel tight as you begin to rub off any grime or dirt from his rough skin. As your touch caresses his skin, he shivers at the sensation, a subtle but noticeable reaction to your careful ministrations. 

A soft smile dances across your lips as you notice his reaction. You lean in closer, your voice filled with tenderness and affection, “Ticklish, are we?”

He chuckles, a deep rumble resonating across the air. “Just a bit, love.”

As you examine his hands, you notice their calloused texture, a testament to his tough being. You treat them delicately, soothing weary muscles and offering brief tranquility.

He sighs blissfully, his gaze locked on you, an unconscious expression of thanks and appreciation traveling between you. Taking care of his needs becomes a subtle gesture of love and dedication.

Finally, as you finish wiping away the last traces of dirt, you lean back slightly and examine his cleansed face. It now has a new luster to it, emphasizing the attractive elements that drew you in all that time ago.

“Thank you, bird,” he says as his fingertips brush over your cheek. You swear he’s almost cognizant, the way his fingers touch you.

You respond to his touch with a delicate kiss on his hand, your heart fluttering. “Always, Si.”

A devious light twinkles in his eyes as he looks into yours. “You know, love, I must confess that being pampered by such lovely hands has me feelin' a l'il spoiled,” he adds with a teasing grin. 

You rub your hand over his shoulder, massaging it slightly as your other hand moves to stow the towel away. You turn to the lamp, hand hovering over the button before you click it off.

“Ok, it’s time to sleep now, ‘kay?” you murmur, gingerly laying him down on his pillow. “Close your eyes.”

“You don’t have t’ tell me twice,” he chuckles, dragging you down with him. You’re careful to stay away from his injury, shifting slightly in his grasp. As the fatigue sets in, his eyelids begin to droop, weighted down by the day's exhaustion. His breathing grows slower and more steady, creating a beautiful lullaby that permeates the room. 

You watch, affectionately, as his features soften and his face relaxes into a serene expression. You move closer, snuggling into his good side, your hand comes to rest on his chest. He automatically draws closer to you, seeking refuge in your embrace.

His body relaxes fully as he succumbs to sleep's embrace, feeling safe and comfortable in your arms. You hug him softly yet firmly, savoring this private moment of vulnerability and trust.

You take sanctuary in the solace with each passing moment, savoring the weight of his body against yours, the rise and fall of his chest, and the softness of his breath against your skin. You gently trace your fingers through his hair, lulling him deeper into a deep slumber.

You continue to hold him until sleep takes him entirely, your love and dedication wrapping him like a warm, safe blanket. In this quiet time, you take comfort in the mere act of being together, knowing that you both greatly savor the time you spend together.

And as you begin to nod off, you take comfort in the knowledge that tomorrow will bring new moments that you'll cherish together. But for the time being, you appreciate the tranquility of the night, cradling him in your arms and savoring the calm of this shared sleep.

[nanabbi]

x

[zeenmrala]

blossoming romance writing prompts:

accidental hand touching

eye contact across a crowded room

exchanging secret smiles

first conversations alone

admiring them from afar

asking them about their family

visiting them at their place of work

discovering common interests

exchanging gifts for the first time

a surprise encounter

picking a leaf/flower petal out of their hair, or brushing dirt off of their face

nervous embarrassment around them (blushing, fidgeting etc)

complimenting their appearance

looking at their lips as they talk

finding excuses to be alone with each other

naturally gravitating closer together

noticing their individual quirks

hello/goodbye hugs that linger

talking late into the night

clumsy attempts at flirting

sharing long term dreams, goals and aspirations with one another

playful teasing

being unable to keep their eyes off of them

attempting to find out if they are single/available

finding comfort in their scent

creating art inspired by them

sharing an umbrella in the rain, or a coat/blanket in the cold

surprising them with their favourite treat

visiting their home for the first time

confiding in them

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Summer day when you were gone (dp x dc)

Jazz yawned as she watched the road pass by in front of her. It wasn't yet dark, everything being bathed in the last golden rays of the day, but there was something about highways that had a way of lulling her. She cranked up the car radio and readjusted her grip on the wheel.

"Almost halfway," she mumbled to herself as she threw a quick look at her GPS. For the umpteenth time, she questioned her choice to go away for college. Sure, Danny and co were handling the ghosts, and didn't need her, not really, but she hated being so far away.

-want me down on Earth, but I am up in space, the radio sounded.

Jazz started humming as she watched the seemingly endless golden fields on each side of her.

There was something on the horizon, a dark shape. It looked like a bird? No, too large. A plane, maybe, but then again its path didn't seem constant and she couldn't see the usual white trail left behind. The song continued as Jazz absentmindedly sang along.

You're from the 70s, but I'm a 90s bitch

The shape was growing bigger. Jazz frowned as she gently hit the breaks. Even if she was still within the speed limits, it was a good thing there was no one else on the road, because she would for sure have been honked at.

I watched, I let it burn

"What the-" Jazz said as the shape grew and as she could see it better and better, she realized it was moving incredibly fast and heading in her direction.

I crashed my car into a bridge

"Shit!" Jazz yelled as she hit the brakes and violently turned the wheel sideways, just in time for the shape to ram into the road full speed just in front of her.

"Oh my god," Jazz breathed in the car that had miraculously not been damaged.

I don't care, I love it

Jazz's hands were trembling and she let herself take a deep breath before bounding out of the car towards the newly-formed crater. And as she looked down into the rapidly-clearing flyaway dirt, she couldn't discern much but then there was a groan.

Jazz froze, then immediately started crawling down into the crater with thoughts of Danny being wounded, looking for help, looking for her-

She reached the bottom and practically ran towards the centre, where she could vaguely discern a dark-haired figure laid out on his back. She reached him and threw herself to her knees as the figure started stirring. His eyes snapped open, Jazz startled away from him as the boy opened his mouth.

"Who are you?" said the boy who definitely was not her brother.

[marsalta]

[unpretty]

my plan for next year is to put a star sticker on every day that i don't buy anything, in the hopes that this will encourage me to no longer run to the store for a single missing ingredient and then buy some treats as long as i'm there to make the trip worth it

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

one morning you cling to satoru’s back and sleepily plead for him not to leave for work and he feels closer to killing the higher ups than ever before

[uncagedwings]

The cod fandom has a big problem with strong women, there are writers who always describe female readers as weak, afraid to standing up to toxicity and for themselves and honestly I am so fed up with this.

SOFTNESS IS NOT WEAKNESS, people who are soft can be also very strong and very capable of standing up for themselves and I am honestly so fed up with this, write more about angry readers who are not afraid to let them know they fucked up, write about misunderstood readers, write about women WHO KNOW THEIR WORTH FOR CHRIST’S SAKE.