#sorry about the magnifying glass thing

[chiamew]

wheeee silly

[abnomi]

EVERY REASON (that i can think of) AS TO WHY TURBO/KING CANDY IS NEURODIVERGENT 💥💥

i would like to make a disclaimer first and foremost about the obvious, being that Turbo/King Candy is heavily implied to have narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) and antisocial personality disorder (ASPD). Very often, characters with these disorders are portrayed as villains, and Turbo is no exception to this. There's nothing wrong with antagonistic characters having said disorders, per se, but when the only representation available for people with these conditions are found in characters you're not supposed to root for, it can be really disheartening. i won't be erasing these parts of him because i feel it would be in poor taste to gloss over those core elements of who he is, but plz keep in mind that having any kind of personality disorder doesn't make anyone inherently evil!!!🌞 your ACTIONS make you, not your brain

Also if anyone has any suggestions or other ideas for his neurodiversity, i would love to hear them! please do share!! I LOVE PSYCHOANALYZING CHARACTERS AND HEARING OTHER PEOPLE PSYCHOANALYZE THEM !!!! YAY🎉 if u agree or disagree with any of my points I'd love to discuss them further :-]

without further ado... click read more to find out…😈 be ready for a lot of reaches

💥 ADHD 💥

STIMMING

Turbo's constantly moving around in some way; he's a very expressive character! even as King Candy, he can't seem to conceal his frequent giggling. it's a big habit of his; he seems to do it involuntarily to regulate himself, including when he's nervous or uncomfortable.

he seems to display other repetitive behaviors as well, like doing his iconic thumbs-up pose, sticking out his tongue, or hopping around gleefully. he is but a jovial court jester..

i personally like to think that his phrases, "Turbo-tastic!" and "Have some candy!" are vocal stims of his, although i equally really love the interpretation that these (and the aforementioned stims) are tics :-]

another headcanon; i think it would make a lot of sense for him to have an oral fixation of some sort (ignoring the whole sigmund freud part of the term ermm...); just lots of biting, chewing, needing to have something in his mouth. It would align with the whole idea that he smokes, too

HYPERACTIVITY

we can clearly see throughout the film that Turbo has a lot of energy, made abundantly clear by his mannerisms and general behavior. he's constantly moving, using exaggerated expressions and gestures to communicate + express himself. He's one of the most animated and bouncy characters in the movie, next to Vanellope! it's silly how a character not very grounded in reality is such a threat, but i suppose that's what makes him so threatening in the first place...

another factor in this is how he is very adrenaline-seeking, craving activities that give him a rush (sugar rush...😂😂). more on that in a bit!!

HYPERFIXATION

Turbo's fixation with winning is all-consuming for him; it's an obsession. he doesn't appear to care about much else, if anything besides it. this could be interpreted as a hyperfixation for him (or special interest if ur all about that autism lifestyle), as it overtakes all of his focus and impedes every process of his mind.

it's clear that racing is much more than a passion for him, and while that fact is due to how he was programmed, it's a major character trait of his regardless that could be correlated to neurodivergence.

HYPERFOCUS

There seems to be a big theme of "all or nothing" when it comes to Turbo. he will either be fully dedicated to something or brush it aside without a second thought. it can't be denied that he fully wraps himself up in what he wants, whether it's a conflict he can't let go of or a new pursuit he's hungrily chasing after. 

ultimately, his dedication varies depending on if it is relevant to him and his interests or not, but this aspect of him still shares patterns with neurodivergent thought processes.

INSTANT GRATIFICATION

Seeing as he has a tendency to cheat in his use of code to spawn in whatever his heart desires, it can be assumed that this could do with Turbo wanting instant gratification to fill that bitter, empty void inside of him. while this could simply be brushed aside as greed and his belief that he is obligated to have access to whatever he wants, this trait is consistent with his generally dopamine-seeking behavior and wanting to be instantly rewarded by his actions. His obsession with needing to feel good directly relates to his need for another buzz, constantly after the next rush. (a sugar rush if you will☺☺☺)

ADRENALINE-SEEKING

Closely related to the previous speculation, Turbo always seems to be chasing his next high. he loves the thrill of action and being surrounded by crowds of people below him. it's why his big thing is racing! people cheer him on, he can do whatever he wants, he can go really fast and look cool..

it's possible that a big aspect of why he does this is to distract himself from any kind of pain, because pain = vulnerability. bro does NOT know how to independently cope with his own problems.. HE MAD AS HELLLLL!!! 😂😂

STRUGGLE WITH SELF CARE

(i know this is reaching but bear with me... ��) going off of his appearance and tendency to make poor decisions, it can be gathered that this man lacks skill in the self care department. his yellowing teeth and sunken eyes not only serve to complement his design, but also give way to the idea that he neglects himself in favor for whatever weird scheme he's up to.

of course, Turbo does prioritize himself above everyone else, but he doesn't strike me as the type to care much about how others think he smells. him being a bother to anyone isn't a concern of his. he cares about whatever gets him the most praise and attention from as many people as possible, which is winning and racing. Who cares about how clean he is when he's up on a podium holding a shiny, golden trophy, anyway?

It's likely that he had to step his game up when he went under disguise as king candy, which is why he looks well-groomed in comparison to his more corpse-like appearance. Ugly hoe. it can also be assumed that he's had more time to focus on himself because everyone loves him without question... Well, except for Vanellope, but who cares about her, right?

also, i know he makes a condescending comment to Ralph about how bad his breath smells, but it's made abundantly clear that Turbo is a massive hypocrite. his comment doesn't erase the possibility that he has suffered from such "halitosis" as well.

💥 ANXIETY 💥

GENERAL ANXIOUS BEHAVIOR

i know, i know, this could technically be chalked up to be "Turbo is nervously giggling and shit because he's scared of getting caught," but guys. g

even in the flashback scene, we can see how easily stressed he can become in an alarmingly short period of time. he is extremely insecure, therefore i am led to believe he is not only emotionally dysregulated, but also by extension, anxiety ridden.

yes, this is purely speculative, but who's to say that he wasn't like this before? being high-strung and intense are significant facets of his personality consistently portrayed throughout the film. as long as he is getting exactly what he wants, he is happy; the moment he loses even a blip of control, however, he immediately grows extremely tense.

if Turbo wasn't anxious about his disguise as King Candy before, he was anxious about how much attention he was receiving on a given day. if not that, then he'd be anxious over how he presents himself. He hates how he can't control how other people perceive him, which is why he is constantly trying to act like he's better than he is.

its why he justifies his behavior to himself, proudly making others refer to him as the "rightful ruler" of sugar rush and relishing in the attention of his countless underlings. Any secure and stable person would NOT ACT LIKE THIS!!!!😭😭😭

FIGHT OR FLIGHT

As we can see a handful of times on screen, Turbo's instinct to protect himself is very easily activated.

 his fear manifests in anger and aggression. we can see at multiple points how easy it is to upset him or fluster him; his anger is one side of the same coin, the opposite end being his fear and paranoia.

Going off of this point, have you noticed that Turbo is either satisfied or furious without much of an in-between? how the second something isn't under his manipulation, he lashes out and fights back? I'm led to believe that this is how he responds to fear (AAUAAYAUUUUGGHHH 🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡). This guy is so against the idea of being vulnerable, that even when afraid, he will utilize violence to regain his dominance over the situation at hand.

CONTROL + PARANOIA

Turbo's always trying to writhe or fight his way out of uncomfortable situations, unable to exist outside of his comfort zone for seconds at a time.

his defensive, paranoid, and controlling behavior are all reflections of how deeply insecure this man is. He feels such an intense need for everything to go exactly how he expects it to go that the moment he senses any kind of threat, he instantly jumps to defend himself and what he feels that he has "earned," regardless of whether there truly is a threat or not.

this could potentially be a coping mechanism for his anxiety and sense of stability; can't forget to mention how territorial he is!! he jumps to conclusions about what others' intentions are before they even get a chance to reply, as seen with his first encounter with Ralph in the movie. 

the racer is so internally discombobulated that he seeks any sense of stability on his environment, including on those around him. his sense of self is so warped that he copes with constant distraction; being under the spotlight, being actively racing, having to be showered with attention, having others make him feel good because he doesn't know how to do it for himself. he needs to feel like everything is under control, lest everything falls apart.

"...if there's ONE thing I can't abide, it's ANYTHING out of order!"

💥 NPD 💥

INFLATED SENSE OF SELF IMPORTANCE

Turbo's most in-your-face trait above all else. It's made more than crystal clear in every scene he's in that his arrogance is a determining factor in how he interacts with others. This is exactly what drives him to desperately crave admiration, to chase after others he's envious of because he thinks he is obligated to take what they have.

he seems to genuinely think he is entitled to get whatever he wants, just because he is inherently "special" or "better" than everyone else. Why else would he have made himself a king, a step above princess?

EXCESSIVE NEED FOR ADMIRATION

Turbo's self worth is COMPLETELY dependent on the opinions of children and teenagers. I think i don't need to say any more than that, but i will. (Evil).

As cartoonishly massive as his ego is, i think that it's fair to assume that Turbo has a very unstable sense of self, distorting his perception of his own worth down with it. his near-constant flaunting and need to be the best is a dead giveaway to his deeply-ridden self-doubt. The foundation of his stability is built around how "good" he is (at racing and winning), how powerful he is, whether or not he is being prioritized above everyone else, whether or not he is the absolute best, etc. etc.

The racer outright manipulates others to shower him with admiration and undeserved appreciation. He is incapable of forming a true sense of internal value, instead heavily and codependently relying on others to form it for him. if he isn't the best, he may as well just be nothing.

INTENSE JEALOUSY

He reacts so severely to what he perceives as others taking away what is rightfully his that it only goes to solidify my previous points even further. the second someone else is getting more attention than him, Turbo will bend over backwards to rip back the praise he believes he so rightly deserves.

being extremely competitive, he will one-up against anyone he thinks of as a threat, dedicating himself to taking them down to the best of his ability, and making sure they STAY down to top it all off.

INABILITY TO HANDLE CRITICISM

if we really dissect the entire one-off joke with Turbo insisting that his stolen pink castle is actually "salmon," along with all of his other domineering behaviors, we can garner that he is very persistent in how he wants others to view him. i wholeheartedly believe that this would translate into him not only being defensive over his supposed "ownership" of Sugar Rush, but also over himself and his own insecurities.

He needs to feel good about himself or else he will die and quite literally try to kill everyone.

LACK OF EMPATHY

He appears to have a fondness for making jokes in very poor taste. Turbo has a big sense of humor, but it's always at the expense of others. Be it a pun about a "fungeon," or jumping to protect himself with a joke about "hitting a guy with glasses," he has a tendency to take serious situations very lightly. It's not that he's unaware of the weight of it; he simply doesn't take it Seriously.

its admittedly impressive how he was able to feign empathy so well for Ralph; it goes to show how he is very capable of understanding that what he's doing is wrong, but ultimately does nothing to change his behavior because it doesn't impact him personally. 

i would like to honor this part of him, because even in the possible alternate path of a redemption arc, his struggle with empathy can be explored in a variety of interesting ways :-] he can understand complicated emotions and situations on an analytical level, but he doesn't feel for them unless it has to do with him specifically. (this obviously doesn't make him inherently evil, his ACTIONS make him evil)

💥 ASPD 💥

LACK OF REMORSE/GUILT

One of Turbo's core characteristics is just how far he is willing to go for his own self-interest with lack of regard for how it impacts everyone else. he has absolutely no concern for how anyone else feels besides himself, willing to go so far as to attempt to mutilate a 9-year-old to achieve his petty goals.

Turbo is shameless when it comes to how he goes about getting his way. While I'd like to believe he isn't fully incapable of feeling regret, he doesn't showcase feeling it in the movie itself. The most regret he'll feel is when he slips up and exposes himself. anything else is the fault of everyone else; he is untouchable in his eyes.

DECEITFUL TENDENCIES + LYING

Where do i even start with this one.

well, first of all, let's acknowledge the... erm, horse? in the room? 🐎😅(Please someone help me there is a horse in my room help helphel) being that Turbo went under disguise as King Candy for at least a decade. Even before this, there's a good chance that he's already had plenty of experience with lies and manipulation. i'd be willing to bet on this!!

one of his specialties is being proficient in manipulation, be it the code of games or the minds of people. theyre basically the same thing to him, anyway... I'm sure you all know the scene where he uses 16 manipulation tactics against Ralph and wins. this was Obviously not the first time he'd done this.

REPETITION OF HARMFUL BEHAVIORS

Time and time again, Turbo can't seem to help himself when it comes to poor decision-making. he never internalizes that his bad choices aren't JUST bad for others, but also for himself, continuing to escalate further and further into very dangerous behaviors until he literally dies.

Here's a list of bad decisions he has made! (at least, that we know of)

Pinning himself above his peers

Harassment + stalking

Carelessly charging through GCS with his car, endangering countless civilians

Attempting to take over a game that isn't his x2

Vehicular manslaughter

Implied mass murder + attempted murder, attempted mutilation

Mass endangerment

Breaking and entering, theft, usurpation, plagiarism

and more!!!!!!!

AND HE LEARNS FROM ABSOLUTELY NONE OF THIS!!! with some of the items listed here, he's attempted to do multiple times! Absolute buffoon.

RECKLESS DISREGARD FOR SAFETY OF SELF AND OTHERS

Considering how he was willing to charge into a game that wasn't his own with the awareness that it could permanently kill him, going as far as to recklessly crash into another car (albeit it's possible this was unintentional), it's easy to gather that he doesn't seem to consider anyone's safety at all in the spur of the moment.

IMPULSITIVITY

his impulsivity and disregard for safety both go hand-in-hand. When it gets to a certain point, Turbo's emotions will boil over and blow up in a cold rage, thus causing him to spiral and act on impulse, becoming a detrimental force to himself as well as everyone around him.

What's interesting is how much restraint he is capable of; he typically is very strategic in how he orchestrates his plans! but once he reaches his breaking point, he snaps and leaves all of his hard work behind in favor of something that calls for his immediate attention.

💥 ETC. 💥

extra tidbits i didnt have enough energy to fully delve into :-]

BPD

Fear of abandonment

Blurry sense of identity

Feelings of emptiness

Self destructive tendencies

Emotional instability

Explosive anger

ODD (oppositional defiant disorder)

He seems so infatuated with his own autonomy that he gets to the point of being resistant and defiant

Resisting against the rules of the world that he directly caused as a result of his own actions, being that one shouldn't "go Turbo."

Enjoys upsetting/getting a rise out of others. this is more speculative as i am going off of the assumption that he thinks pissing people off is funny, based on his other behavioral patterns. (cruel sense of humor, wanting to feel above others via control & manipulation, enjoyment of inflicting pain onto others)

Forcefully defends himself and refuses any kind of criticism

Lashes out when he feels slighted

Excessive persistence despite all odds, whether it's beneficial to him or not

ok bye!! thank you if you managed to read this far ^^ peace and love take care of yourself! all in all turbo is so neurodivergent ok please Okay <3 get this thing his meds

[todayisafridaynight]

[og]

[peekychu]

No way did I just see a dni banner with eric cartman on it 💀

[eternitas]

People need to fucking chill and realize that sometimes things they enjoy are not made for them, so they need to stop demanding it suddenly becomes a thing for them

people discovering steven universe in 2023 are always like "this show is really good why the hell were yall so weird about it"

[danveration]

Sleep well, amour.

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: You’ve been very intrested in Alastor ever since you met him. He invites you to see his recording studio, which you accept. Then you ask if you can stay and listen to him host! While listening, you fall asleep. How does he react?

Word count: 2844

Warnings: Ummm not really much? Alastor being Alastor! One mention of not being able to sleep sometimes, mention of seeing people in hell doing dr*gs, k*lling eachother, and fighting, mention of reader having bad social skills (?)

part two

A/N: UM!! this is my first time writing for alastor, so apologies if it isn’t the best. Please give me any feedback you want, I’d love to hear it! Also sorry for any spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoy :’)

Alastor the radio demon. You know of the things he’s done, you know that people are quite literally terrified of him. But for some reason... you feel a certain way towards him that you can’t describe, but it’s surely not fear.

You’ve had a some-what odd admiration of him since you landed in hell, only a few months ago. You got spotted by Charlie when you first got to hell. She noticed you looking around nervously and lost, and put two and two together that you must be new. She very kindly introduced herself which was refreshing because.. well.. it’s hell. Everywhere you looked people were fighting, doing drugs, and even killing each other. You were glad there were kind people even down here.

“Hi, you! Uh, you lost?” Charlie smiled you and waved.

���Um yeah! I’m guessing this is hell, huh?” You awkwardly chuckle. Social skills weren’t ever your thing, it seems they haven’t got better after you died, either.

“Yep! This is hell! You must be new? I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar. It’s so nice to meet you.” She smiled and stuck out her hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie! My names Y/n.” You politely smiled back and shook her hand.

After that meeting, Charlie showed you to the hotel in which you eagerly accepted to stay at, her being the only sane thing you’ve seen down here. It was a pretty nice place, no 5 star hotel like back on earth, but it was something you’re very grateful for. Who knows what would’ve happened to you if you haven’t met her.

While she was showing you around, someone caught your eye. He was a tall man, very polite and respectful looking. He was dressed head to toe in old fashioned attire, with a cane to suit his charming look. He was smiling in a way that made you look at him like he was something you wanted to inspect under a magnifying glass.

He glanced at you and smiled larger, stepping over to you and Charlie.

“My, my! What do we have here? Charlie! You didn’t tell me that we’ve got more guests? It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear! The names Alastor!” He spoke politely.

His voice was sort of.. Radio-like? You found it soothing.

“Haha yeah! I found them wandering around on the street this morning! They’re a newcomer, their name is Y/n.” She spoke back, excited to introduce you.

“Y/n! Well, my, my. That’s quite a lovely name!” He said. “Say.. do you listen to radio? I host a brilliant radio broadcast that’ll give you some real insight on this place!” He said enthusiastically.

“Oh.. haha thank you” You smile. “I do actually! I love radio shows.” You immediately feel drawn towads him. You cant tell if it’s just the new scenery or what.. but you want to just sit and chat with him for hours.

Alastor perks up at that. “Oh you do, do you?” He smiled more.

“Yeah! Back when I was.. uhm.. alive, I actually had a whole playlist of them! What do you do your show about?” You ask.

Alastor is delighted to have you take interest in his show. “Well, dear, I do all sorts of things on there! Yes, yes, you think of it and I’ve most probably done it! Most commonly known is the souls I entrap and prison, as I broadcast their screams of horror all over this horrible place and people get to hear the noises of their never-ending torture and demise. But! I also just made a wonderful segment on my mother’s Jambalaya recipe!” He stated.

While part of those sentences gave you chills, you still seemed to take interest in him.

“Well,” you chuckle. “I will certainly check it out!” You smile.

“Ah! Wonderful news, my dear.” He said while he twirled his cane.

Charlie was watching you interact with him and noticed how you looked at him, as if admiring. She smile and said, “well! We better finish the tour.”

She motions for you to follow her and you do, waving Alastor goodbye.

He waves back and yells, “goodbye, sweetheart! Lovely to have met you.”

After that, you wanted absolutely everything to do with him. You’ve also got to know the other people staying at the hotel. Angel, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, and Sir Pentious. They were overall kind people. Husk found your interest in Alastor to be no good.

“Yeah, no. That, whatever thing you have created in your mind about him, isn’t true. He’s vile, Y/n. Trust me on that.” He grunts.

Angel thought you had some kind of kink towards “scary, creepy men.” Which wasn’t true because you didn’t even find him scary. You found him charming.

“Ah.. Alastor? Fucking sexy weirdo if I do say so myself. He’s got some reaaal problems but hey, if you’re into that-“ You cut him off by saying it wasn’t like that & that you don’t think anything sexual towards him.

One day, you were talking to Sir Pentious about his “crush” on Cherry Bomb. He completely denied it but you could tell from his blush and his nervous demeanour that he was very interested in her.

You were caught off guard when you heard that radio voice coming up from behind you.

“Y/n, my dear! I have a question for you.” Alastor came and stood beside you, looking down from where you’re sitting.

“Al! Hey, what’s up?” You ask, containing your excitement.

Sir Pentious excused himself quickly, seeing one of his “egg boys” were being played with by Niffty. She isn’t one to be gentle.

“So, I know how you’ve been listening to my radio show as of late, and I was wondering if you’d like to see where the magic happens!” He states.

“R-really? I’d be honoured!” You say, smiling.

“Ah! Lovely. Come now, this way.”

You get up and he locks arms with you and chats about his new microphone that he got.

Once you guys arrive, you’re shocked. It looks very professional and comfortable. It suits him heavily. There’s a big open window, a desk, some chairs and sofas, a bunch of technical stuff on the desk along with his new mic that you recognize from his descriptions, and a deer coat hanger?

“Wow, Alastor. This place is so actually so sick. I love it. And the new microphone suits you!” You say. “Thank you for showing me, really.”

Typically, Alastor would never show someone something personal of his, including his studio, but you are an exception. He isn’t sure what it is about you but he doesn’t seem to hate you as much as he does with anyone else. At first he was weirded out, but now he just embraces it. He also feels protective of you. He doesn’t know exactly why you’re even down here. For as far is he can tell, you’re an angel. Always being kind even to those who aren’t kind to you, always saying “please” and “thank you,” all that jazz. Jazz! You even like jazz music, his favourite. He told you that he lived on earth the time jazz music was popular. The 20’s and 30’s. That explains his vocabulary and how he dresses. You just find it more interesting and take time to ask questions about what it was like in that time.

“Why of course, my dear! If I’d want to show anyone here, it would be you.” He says, giving you his iconic smile.

You have a thought. “Hey, Al? Would it be alright if the next time you do a show, I could stay and listen?”

You hope he doesn’t think this is odd.

Alastor raises a brow. “Why would you want to do that?” He asks.

You panic, thinking you went too far by asking and now he’s going to cut you off or something.

“Ha! Kidding, sweetheart! Of course you can. I love when my broadcast is wanted to be listened to. Though I love it as well when they don’t want to.” He says.

You’re relieved, a bit scared, but still relieved.

“Say!” He says. “I was going to make one tonight talking about this silly technology box that thinks he is better than me! You know, expose all his lies and secrets to my listeners, and unwilling listeners. Maybe broadcast it all throughout hell!” He starts laughing manically. Then calms down and stares at you.

“Would you want to stay and listen, hm? I can do it now! I didn’t have any plans today going forward and well, getting it out sooner is better than later, I always say.” He asks.

You know he’s talking about Vox when he mentioned the technology box. Him and Vox have a sort of rivalry going on. Though Alastor seems to not care much about him, Vox is sure obsessed. He’s even gone so far as to making posters about him. Which areee.. not much of a resemblance.

This offer strikes you and you immediately perk up. “Yes! I’d love to.” You say.

You don’t think Alastor knows this but whenever you’re struggling to sleep, you put on his radio show and his voice comforts you to sleep. You’re sure if you told him, he would find it weird.

Little did you know, Alastor already knew. He walked past your room one night and heard static sounds coming from your quarters. He immediately was intrigued and put his ear close to your door to hear his voice. He was surprised, but not weirded out. He found it delightful that you found comfort in his voice. It’s not everyday someone does. Usually it invokes terror and anxiety on anyone who hears. This was new, and he didn’t hate it.

“Lovely! Let me get all set up. You can sit wherever you feel the most comfortable!” He says, adjusting his mic and pressing a buttons on his table.

You find a spot and sit down. Feeling honored to even be in the same room as him, let alone HIS room.

“Ahem! Welcome ladies and gentlemen-“ He goes off into his introduction, before winking at you and starting.

After about 20 minutes, you begin to feel tired and put your head on the side of the wall, still listening but with your eyes closed.

Alastor immediately notices and smirks, knowing how his voice effects you. He continues on and after about another 20 minutes, he finishes up. You’re asleep, slightly smiling.

He walks over to you and looks down.

“My, my. You really are an interesting one, aren’t you?” He whispers. He smiles more softly than he usually does and looks around to find a purple blanket hanging on his deer coat hanger, and gently places it on you.

He feels his heart fluttering while looking down at you and he immediately shrugs it off.

“Mm well, my dear.. I guess you can stay here. I’ll just be over there, transferring my broadcast to the other radios around town.” He says and points to his table.

“Sleep well, amour.” He speaks softly.

[canonkiller]

Accessorizing With Disability ✨

I've seen a lot of people (Yes, For Real) reluctant to add disability aids to their characters because those aids are visually unappealing (and in case of character designs, "boring") or they do add aids, but so over the top on aesthetics that they wouldn't actually function (anyone who replaces a wheelchair with a living breathing animal, really)

So here is literally just a list of Shit I've Found While Decorating My Wheelchair. Feel free to add on.

Wheelchair Modifications

Some of these are for fun, some of them are for function, some are both. Many are chosen with intent to be stated at on purpose instead of for the wheelchair itself due to who I am as a person. This is the category I've done the most brainstorming in.

Custom paint jobs / decals (pictured example below, first image)

Bike horns / bells

Bike handlebar streamer thingies

Custom hubcaps and wheel covers (pictured example below, second image)

Clip on, usually folding rear view mirrors

Stickers / decals on seat backs (or patches for fabric chairs)

Handlebar or back bags

Colored / high visibility tape on wheels

Noisemakers / bells on wheels (admittedly these get annoying pretty fast)

Custom seat / armrest cushions

Clip on cup holders

Clip on cane holders

Eyes + Vision

Glasses chains

Pocket magnifiers worn as necklaces or on pocketwatch chains

Sunglasses

Goggles (tinted, to protect from irritation / dry eye, to magnify vision, etc)

Patterned fabric eye patches (pictured example below, first image)

Colored / embossed leather eye patches (pictured example below, second image)

Hearing

Hearing aid stickers / skins (pictured example below, first image)

Hearing aid jewelry (pictured example below, second image)

A note on hearing aid jewelry: I originally got an anon ask that I added here about dangly jewelry causing issues during sign, which was then refuted by other users, so I've removed it. For total clarity it's 2am where I am and I'm trying to minimize misinformation before looking through things when I'm more awake. Sorry for the confusion.

Mobility That Isn't Wheelchairs

Custom paint jobs (pictured example below, first image)

Stickers / decals

Keychains on wrist loops

Attached decorations (within reason) (or without reason I guess) (pictured example below, second image)

That's all I've got for now. Thanks 👍

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I would die for a poly!marauders x reader where reader gets a bloody nose and almost passes out. This has happened to me and I wish I had the boys 😅 of course only if this sounds interesting!! 🫶🏼

Thanks for requesting love!

cw: blood, near fainting

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 642 words

You’re mid-story when Remus’ expression shifts. 

“And he didn’t even…ask…” You trail off as James’ eyes flare suddenly. Remus is scanning the room like he’s searching for something. “...what?” 

“I’m just looking for the tissues…” 

You feel your expression crease.

“Don’t worry,” says Sirius, in a no-nonsense tone you don’t hear often. “Just pinch your nose shut and close your eyes, okay?” 

“What…” You touch your fingertips to your nose, and the second the bright red pads come into your view you’re overcome by a wave of nausea. 

“Don’t, don’t.” James takes your hand, bloody fingers and all, hiding them away. Your head fills with cotton. Remus gets up and goes into the kitchen. “Baby, that’s what we’re trying to keep from happening.” 

The feel of something splattering on your thigh has you looking down on instinct. You barely process the bead of blood curving down your thigh before your vision starts to blacken. 

“Okay.” A hand cups the back of your head, cold fingers pressing into your scalp as it takes your weight, and another pinches your nostrils. “None of that, doll, c’mon. You’re okay.” 

You blink a couple of times before the fuzzy darkness clears enough for you to see Sirius in front of you. He’s the picture of calm, while James’ eyes are magnified cartoonishly wide by his glasses. It takes you a second to figure out you need to breathe through your mouth. 

Sirius nods as you inhale. “Good,” he says. “Just keep your eyes on me, doll.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” James quips, and Sirius’ lips quirk but he doesn’t take his eyes from yours. 

“It’s a happy consequence.” 

“Sorry,” you say, voice sounding whiny all stuffed up. 

“You’re good,” James reassures you. “Rem’s gonna get you cleaned up in just a second. It seems we’ve misplaced the tissues.” 

“Found them!” Remus announces from down the hall. “Who put them under the bed?” 

You and Sirius look to James. He shrugs, sheepish. “That’s my bad,” he admits. “My allergies were bothering me, and I didn’t feel like getting up.” 

“Hoarder,” Sirius accuses fondly, letting go of your nose briefly to allow Remus to swipe at the skin beneath it. 

“Close your eyes,” Remus warns softly, and this time you listen before you can see the tissue. You feel him blot at your nostrils and then wipe up the blood on your hand and leg, keeping your eyes squeezed shut tight. “Good girl.” The lid of the trash bin clangs shut. “You can open now.” 

You replace Sirius’ hand with your own, and he gives you a cautious look as he lets go slowly. “You sure you’ve got it?” He raises an eyebrow at you. “I don’t mind.” 

You smile at him, closed-lipped and trying not to think about what you’re staunching. “I’m good, thanks.” 

Remus sits back down with a heavy sigh. James nods his agreement heartily. 

“Since when do you get nosebleeds?” he asks you. 

“Since now, I guess,” you say. “It’s not my new favorite thing.” 

You’ve always fainted at the sight of blood, so spontaneous bleeding is probably one of the top ten worst things that can happen to you. 

“It’s a bit worrisome,” Remus agrees. “What happens if you’re driving and your nose starts bleeding again? You can’t very well pass out behind the wheel.” 

You level him with a deadpan look. “I’ll try to refrain.” 

“It won’t happen again,” Sirius says surely. He’s eyeing you in a peculiar way, somehow both assessing and decided at once. “We’ll figure out what caused it, and make sure it doesn’t.” 

You look to Remus for an eye roll, but both of your boyfriends look about as trusting in this plan as Sirius. 

“How?” you ask. 

He gives you an indulgent smile. “Don’t worry about it, baby. We’re not gonna let anything happen to you.”

[egoistars]

HIT BRAKE! sae itoshi

(Sae needs to practice his goals and you… driving)

~3.8k words, humor, fluff, angst if you grab a magnifying glass, use of soccer instead of football (i have too much pride to do that), theyre so polar opposite they unfortunately come full circle and match each others freak

Sae Itoshi returned to Japan with several new things under his belt:

The ability to speak spanish (although his grammar structure can use some help from time to time)

An insane growth spurt

Probably shell shock syndrome

And the scariest new update to a chronic Resting Bitch Face that you had the displeasure of seeing thrown your way when you accidentally ran over his ball driving home. Maybe this is why most Japanese people rely on public transport instead of using their licenses

TWO was the number of times you had failed your driver’s test. Yes, you could always use the bus or ask your friends for a ride, but college doesn’t start for another few weeks and you’re determined by pure stubbornness to be driver certified before starting school. You think you’re doing pretty good so far: no accidents, no being pulled over, no getting cursed, and no one loudly complaining about your skills (no one has trusted you to drive them). The only thing you had left to master was parallel parking. 

It was a legacy in your family to be horrible at city parking.

One of your earliest memories was in the backseat of a rental car in a foreign country while your mother tried to park on the side of the street, only to get honked at by cars and drive against the flow of vehicles in a one-way zone. 

A bag of groceries lie in the trunk of your car as you drive to your family’s home. Humming along to the song softly playing through the radio, you slow down as you near the residential area, confident that this drive will end without a single thing gone wrong. Without speaking, you jinx your thoughts as you jolt when your car goes over a bump and a loud wheeze follows it. Turning your head to the side, your entire body freezes and your eyes go wide upon seeing the pissed off glare of Sae Itoshi, the infamous Japanese soccer player who just returned from Spain with a sexy tan.

With a shaky hand, you roll down your window and immediately start tumbling over your rushed apologies. You don’t even understand what you’re saying but you hope that Itoshi somehow understands. When he doesn’t react, which is what you expected but it hurts nonetheless, you immediately shut up and tumble out of your car before getting on your knees and seeing what you ran over. 

Your hand reaches and pulls out a deflated soccer ball, the entire thing flat with a large hole on the side from when it got run over by your car. You almost feel inclined to inflate it with the tears that are about to spill out of your eyes but the only realistic and socially acceptable choice was to give it to Itoshi and once again, apologize but with words that he and the average person can understand. 

Itoshi mumbles a “it’s okay” before taking the ball (can you even call it that?) a once-over. “I have more at home, I’ll just throw it out.”

“Holy shit I’m so sorry about that I can buy you a new one just please don’t sue me I can’t afford a good lawyer, I’m in student loan debt.”

“...why would I sue you?” he asks, his face slightly scrunched up in confusion. It’s not much different from his normal expression, just a slight crease of his brows but it makes all the difference.

“I didn’t mean to assume that you’re gonna sue me, please don’t sue me for assuming!” You think that you should begin to pack your bags and take out a loan to move to another country. It would be easier to be a criminal than to deal with a conversation with a guy who multiplies your humiliation. “I just thought that you might get your super prestigious and rich and wealthy and prosperous and exquisitely-copious-in-currency soccer team on my ass ‘cause I ran over one of their balls,” you nervously rambled. Your face heats up at every word and one Itoshi divides into two Itoshis and two Itoshis split into four.

“Are you schizophrenic? I thought you were normal back in middle school,” sixty-eight Itoshis say in unison.

Your body freezes, the now one hundred twenty-eight Itoshis all morphing back into one. “Wait, we went to middle school together?”

“Uh, yeah,” he blinks, this time looking even more awkward than you. “We were in the same class for two years straight and I sat next to you the semester before I left. I think I would remember the kid who slept through each period but still got all the answers right when called on.”

“Oh!” You perk up at the recollection of a scrawny red-haired boy from five years ago, one who would try to not-so-discreetly look at your worksheet answers and peek at your notes during class. “You’re the boy who would always copy off my work. I do remember you!”

“Is that all you remember about me?” If Itoshi were any other person, you’d say he looked uncomfortable but all he did was tilt his head a little more to the left and shift on his feet. 

“I mean, the only reason why you remember me is ‘cause I saved your academics without even knowing. Don’t think I didn’t hear our teacher whispering ‘good job’ to you while returning our tests and how you suddenly moved up in our class rankings.”

“Well you didn’t bother to hide anything when you were snoozing away so whose fault really is it?”

“You were gonna leave for Spain, anyway!” you point out, remembering being pissed off when hearing the reason why your seatmate left was because he was some kind of sport prodigy, basically having his entire future as a star secured at the age of thirteen.

“My parents would’ve killed me and held me by my feet if I flunked.” Itoshi grimaced, kissing his teeth and brushing his hair back as it had fallen over his eyes. His cheeks had returned to its usual color, removing the red flush of running and exhaustion.

“Huh, I guess I should be credited for your success. Spain should thank me.”

“Are we forgetting that I’m the one who plays the sport?” Sae’s voice came out harsher than he intended and cut through the playful atmosphere by the first syllable. His demeanor appeared unchanged but he felt himself tense. 

Conversation had never been strong for Sae, only ever talking when he needed to and the most of his words going to his teammates on the field or his little brother. His success was a sensitive subject whether he liked to admit it or not. Spain served as an eye-opener to the teenage boy, being left in a country where no one looked like you and no one spoke your language. The only thing he could rely on was a translator he barely trusted and the expressions of the people around him. 

When you don’t respond, Sae observes your face, noticing how you began to fidget with your fingers just as you had when you first stepped out of the car. You weren’t his previous coaches; you were just a former classmate who he happened to run into, or rather, you drove into. It was too late to laugh and he felt slightly guilty at freaking out someone that wasn’t his brother, an opponent, or a bothersome news anchor. 

“If you want to repay me for the ball, meet me at the sports store nearby.”

“Sorry, but I don’t really know where you’re talking about,” you sheepishly reply, wanting to sink more into the ground with every word. You decide that talking to athletes is more tiring than playing an actual sport.

“Give me your number, I’ll send you the address.”

You hand him your phone, hoping he doesn’t comment on the horrendously cracked screen protector that you had been telling yourself to replace for months. At the same time, you also want him to notice the small possibility of him offering to buy you a new one, taking advantage of rich people or whatever. “I can pick you up if you don’t mind.”

“Should I trust you to drive me?” he asks, carefully looking between you and your car with his turquoise eyes as if analyzing his opponents on a field, only, this was a residential street and the only other player was a balding middle aged man walking his dog. 

“I mean, you’ll be my first passenger so you can find out for everyone else.”

“If I get into an accident I’ll sue you for real.”

“I’ll try not to, I don’t have a job anymore and I’m going to college soon so even if I do please be merciful I swear I have good intentions.”

“Pick me up tomorrow at 11 and I’ll give you a review,” he decides, handing over his phone with the contact ‘Sae Itoshi’ at the top of your phone and the name of a sports store sent to your conversation. You ponder for a moment about asking for a contact picture but you’d like to stay alive for at least one more day so you bid him farewell and sit back in the driver’s seat, hoping he doesn’t hate your taste in music when you turn the radio back on.

—

The Itoshi residence is rather normal, differing from your expectation of a lavish mansion with fountains and fences of gold, given that Sae was a famous athlete and his younger brother Rin was known throughout the prefecture for being a mini Sae. The previous night when you had just finished brushing your teeth, your phone screen illuminated with the presence of a new notification: a text from the older Itoshi.

>make sure you don’t have anything planned for tomorrow

>i’ll need to try each ball out

>you did this to yourself

>shitty driver

A jolt of pain had struck your pride, crumbling your ego at the realization that he was, unfortunately, right about needing to sacrifice your entire afternoon to babysit a (grown) stranger whom you haven’t talked to in years; those conversations were brief, lacking any substance to consider them actual conversations. For a moment, the thought of bailing on him had crossed your mind, the idea of leaving him stranded at his residence while you enjoyed a night in, marinating before a tumultuous college career seemed insatiably tempting. 

Disaster struck when you Googled Sae Itoshi’s net worth, his bank account leading you right to his front doorstep.

“Don’t get into any car accidents,” Sae told you as he dipped his head down to step into the passenger’s side of your car. You were suddenly struck with a moment of insecurity; a wealthy athlete who could probably buy your family and your ancestor’s mummified corpses is sitting in your car and is probably rich enough to get away with murdering you for having half a particle of dust fall onto his lap.

You realized you zoned out when Sae cleared his throat, blinking a few times at you with an unamused expression and eyebrows furrowed in judgment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, man. Just trying to remember the name of the place you mentioned. It’s a technique I use where if I think really hard in the same place I was when I thought of that thought, that thought I had thought of can reappear in my thoughtless mind.” You aren’t sure if you understand what you’re saying but you think you can get away with spouting bullshit if you use enough hand movements like a person on TedTalk.

“What the actual fuck are you saying?” Sae doesn’t seem to believe you but you’re an innovator—you simplify the problem down to something the average person (underling) can understand. 

“Can you give me the address again..?”

“You’re a freak.”

Sae picks up your phone, which was opened to the navigator app, and quickly typed in the name of the sporting good’s shop he had mentioned the day before. It was a small place, smaller than you would expect a star athlete to go to for equipment but you suppose it makes sense at the same time: less people, less paparazzi, less crazed fans, and a selection of items picked specifically for trained athletes. 

“So, uh, are you gonna make me pay for the ball too ‘cause I’m at least, like, five yen in student loan debt,” you sheepishly ask, hoping Sae can appreciate your humility in being a college student, taking a step forward in life by pursuing a higher education. 

“How cheap are you?” Sae scoffs, letting out a sound that started off as half of a chuckle but ended as a constipated grunt, making him sound like a diseased lab-grown goat that was raised by war-stricken alien society. You think Sae should become an experimental musical artist if soccer doesn’t work out, sorta like a fucked up version of Björk who’s slightly less musically talented and a total cunt instead. 

“I’m not cheap! I’m just curious. I brought my credit card just in case. I’m a responsible adult; this is all for budgeting and logging my payments or whatever else people do to save money.”

“You’re lucky you’re funny,” Sae comments as if it’s the most nonchalant thing in the world. For you though, you almost stepped on the breaks and begged him to repeat what he said. It would have been just another condescending compliment from anyone else but Sae Itoshi is notorious for not humoring anyone in the media and you quickly realized, even those in real life. Before you could doubt your memory, Sae opens his mouth again. “You lucked out on pretty privilege. All the bullshit you say would not slide if it came from any other person. I’m convinced the only social experience you have is talking to a mud wall.”

Any negative statement he had made went through one ear and directly out the other, keeping only the compliments for your brain to process. Without noticing, a giddy smile appeared on your face and to Sae, it was wildly masochistic the way you tolerated his foul personality and even relishing in his attention—no matter good or bad. He could almost pity you, deducing your attitude as a lack of self respect, but you somehow manage to surprise him every time.

“Nah, I think I had a lot of friends. I don’t know if we were actually friends but I knew their names so it’s probably good enough. Speaking of, there was this guy named Kota who I knew when I was seven and he seemed pretty cool until I caught him picking at his feet in the middle of class. Sometimes I wonder how he’s doing and if he’s still collecting foot gunk. But yeah, I think you’re just self projecting with the whole ‘no people, only soccer’ thing and moving to Spain with zero spanish skills. Damn, wait, that’s kinda sad. Shit, now I feel bad,” you take a look at Sae, searching for any sort of discomfort or offense but he simply shrugged. 

“It’s whatever, they all bothered me anyways. I was there to play soccer, not make lifelong friends. It’s not like I’m gonna stay in Spain forever. I’m back in Japan to renew my passport ‘cause I know I’m gonna come back eventually.”

“You’ve already made a name for yourself and you’re making insane money that can last more than a lifetime for the average person once your contract is over. It’s not gonna be long before you get onto the Olympic team for Japan. When you do make it on, you better thank me for making sure you kept on playing by bringing you to buy a replacement for a ball I ran over.”

You drove into a parking lot with two other cars directly in front of the sports shop. The building was in the middle of a small plaza, adjacent to an udon shop and a bar. It was undoubtedly an odd place for a sports shop to be and that might have been what caught Sae’s eye in the first place. In the window display, a tennis racket and a pair of soccer cleats are put on display and on the glass door, countless advertisements for events and brands are taped on, each barely correlating to the others.

Right in the corner of the shop is the checkout where an elderly man sits, scribbling something in a beaten journal. There is a stack of newspapers behind him, every issue marked with highlighted annotations and then neatly folded as if it were untouched. Sae greeted the man and turned to find someone else, this time, being a younger man who appeared to be in his thirties or forties. He gave Sae a warm smile and shook his hand, not as a business partner, but as an acquaintance. 

It’s here that you realize you’ll never be able to see the world the way Sae does. In your car he was just another boy in your neighborhood that you decided to get to know. But to others, he was Sae Itoshi, a prodigy who could conquer the world with just himself and a pair of cleats. Although his eyes are dimmed and his apathy anything but silent, his shine was lost to know one and when he boards a plane back to Spain while you settle into college, you think you’d be content calling him a shooting star.

Sae notices that you stopped following him and turns around in confusion, tilting his head to motion you to follow him. It takes a breath before you put your hands in the pocket of your jacket and tentatively follow him. It wasn’t until you walked into the store that you truly realized how out of place you felt and if it were just you and Sae, you might’ve thought to ask him what everything did. He’d call you a dense fuck and tell you that he plays soccer, that he doesn’t deal with anything else. You had even the smallest bit of shame so you kept your mouth shut and continued to trail after him, stealing glances at the stacked shelves until the employee came to a halt.

Before you was a wall, lined with four shelves of nothing but soccer balls, each decorated with the signatures of different brands and their series’.

“The guy said I can try them out in the back.” Sae tapped your shoulder and grabbed onto the fabric of your jacket, dragging you with him like a pet cat. “They have a lot of empty space there. You can help me carry everything I want to try.”

Agreeing turned out to be a mistake. In your arms you struggled to carry six different balls, with Sae dribbling one between his feet as the owner of the stop unlocked the door to the back where Sae would be testing things out. You felt like an overworked butler from some bad comic and in your head, you imagined yourself as a fainting princess—a damsel in distress being overworked by the evil kingdom in which she is supposed to be respected.

“Stop being dramatic,” Sae sighed, noticing your dejected pout and lost eyes. He could almost pity you if you didn’t look comically pathetic in the moment, almost adorable if he wanted to be slightly sentimental. “You can put them all down now. Just sit here and wait. Take a nap or something, you’ll be fine.”

The lack of standards you have would be an issue to address at a later date because the barely comforting words of the ever eloquent motivational speaker Sae Itoshi had you immediately perking up and cheering for him.

“Go! Go! You got this! Get that goal, ugly!”

“Who are you calling ugly? I could knock you out with this ball, you know. If you want to be supportive, don't be a freak.”

“Are you really gonna disrespect the only fan you have at the moment? What if I tweet about this and get you canceled or some shit?”

“Do you really think I care about that?”

“...no…”

“...”

“...”

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

“Kick that ball, little boy! You’re a prodigy! Number one soccer player in the world! Bend that net over!”

—

By the time Sae had finished shooting several goals and alternating dribbling between them at least five times, the sun had set and your throat was sore from bullshit cheering, half of which were incoherent sounds of moral support. Sae grabbed an unopened box of the ball he had chosen and denied a pump when offered one. When he placed the cardboard packaging onto the checkout table, your wallet was in your hand and ready to check out and pay off your debt to the Itoshi. 

However, you were met with a receipt in your hand instead and a farewell from the owner, bidding you and Sae a happy rest of your day. You quickly turned your head toward Sae, mouth agape as your brain twitched, trying to process if he was fucking with you or not.

“Do you want me to pay you online or write a check or what? Wait, why did you pay? I thought I owed you it? My complaining earlier was all joking. I literally popped your old ball. The least I can do is pay for a new one!” You rant, quickly taking your phone out of your bag to open up your banking app but Sae was quicker to take your hand in his and bring it down to where it was before.

“And I was fucking with you too, dumbass. Or are you too stupid to remember back in the car how I didn’t respond to you asking if you needed to pay? Start listening, will you?”

“I think this is the meanest act of generosity I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not being generous, I’m telling you that you owe me something else.”

“What the fuck?” You’re perplexed by the audacity of this man. You hope his athletic career flops and every brand deal that he has gotten offered drops him. “Are you gonna start charging me an insane amount of interest like a loan shark? Dude, aren’t you rich?”

“I’m not asking for money.”

“Then what is it?”

“Go on a date with me.”

“Are you being for real right now?” You’re still perplexed by the audacity of this man. You’re perplexed by how his words are chosen to form the most foul sentences with sweet meanings. You’re perplexed by how out of all who know him, and all whom he knows, he would take an interest in you. But you’re a selfish person—if Sae Itoshi is offering his beauty and his awful personality to you, then you’ll take it with all your heart. 

You move to Sae’s side, putting everything in your hands into your bag and intertwining your fingers with his, a dumb smile planted on your face. As you skip to the car and swing your hands between the two of you, Sae Itoshi’s grin is highlighted by the golden glow of the setting sun. 

He really can’t wait to come home.

[bkd-b3ans]

Boothill keeps messing up his revolver from all the slapping and you have to fix it

Heya, love For Boothill too big, so I've started writing something for the first time. Sorry for any mistakes, literally never wrote a fanfic before.

Ship: Boothill x mechanic reader (gn, but possible masc leaning)

Warnings: none, it's just a bit of banter

Chapter(s?) : just one part of a long thing I want to do. I will accompany this with art too of my oc later down the line.

"Boothill, can you stay still for one moment?" You said, clear annoyance in your voice as you almost dropped the small pins you had to hold with a pair of tweezers inside the cowboys disassembled arm.

You were trying to fix his revolver, which so happened to get jammed again due to his recklessness in fighting. You've told him so many times to stop slapping it into place so aggressively, that the springs and pins inside it are going to get worn out faster or shifted out of their place, but those pleas always fell onto deaf ears.

"M'bad sugar, it just gets sooo boring stayn' still like this for so fudging long." He said, rolling his eyes and slumping back down in his chair, tapping the fingers of his other hand onto the arm rest.

He always had these tics of his when getting fixed, which, to a degree, you could understand. After all, sometimes his repairs could take a few minutes or entire days where he'd have to do nothing but stay in your workshop, connected to your many machines in order to ensure that everything is running optimally. By now, he came so often that you could confidently just run your business on his funds alone.

"It won't take that long this time-" you adjusted the magnifying glasses on your nose, tapping the edge to zoom in a bit more, your steady hand placing the tiny pin inside it's hole "Luckily it was just a few pins that got out of their place. Other than that, your body seems to function pretty well."

He heard that little sigh of relief you sometimes did when checking his systems. It was a bitch and a half to fix them, and you were about the only mechanic not affiliated with the IPC that he could trust not to install some weird virus into his body.

" Well, what can I say, lady luck still riddin' shotgun with me I reckon. Can't say the same 'bout those jolly good fellows from the IPC." he let out a prideful scoff tipping his hat "I reckon their faces look better now with a few bullets between their teeth.

You shook your head, already used to his rants about the IPC and his hunt for revenge. Whilst you could appreciate his enthusiasm, you had yet to pry into the issue as to why. Despite all the days and hours spent with him, working on his body and listening to his rants, you had yet to be told the reason for all of this.

"As long as it is their face and not yours. After all, you're my number one customer~" you have him a wink, sticking your tongue at him playfully. Boothill nearly laughed, trying to say something smart back, but he was cut short by you suddenly slapping the revolver back in it's place, giving it a few spins before closing the paneling around it

"All seems to work well now Boots. Again, please stop slapping this thing into place like it owes you money. Your body may be made out of quality stuff, but it's not immune to your own idiocy."

"Hah, as if, that thing works better with a little tough love"

He didn't even have to look at you to feel the knives you were starring at him from behind your glasses.

"Besides, if I were to be careful, what excuses would I have to come pay ye a visit from time to time? Eh, sugar?"

You hated that shit eating smirk he had on his face sometimes. You just knew he enjoyed teasing and annoying you. It was part of your friendship at this point.

"One day your recklessness will be your death"

Standing up, you went to disconnect him from the machines he was hooked up, pulling out the cables from his back one by one.

"Aww, do I sense some worry in yer tone, darling? I'm flattered a-"

He couldn't finish his sentence as you tugged on his hat, pulling it over his face. Boothill couldn't help but laugh.

"Fine fine, I'll stop. Fudge me you can be tough to love sometimes. How much do I owe ya?" he asked, finally being able to stand up and adjust his hat.

"40k, do you want to put this on your tab again or just pay upfront"

"Just put it on my tab darling, I'll pay it once I'm back from this assignment"

You sighed. He always picked that option, but he always paid eventually, so you weren't too worried. What worried you us where the money came from sometimes. But what can you do, money is money after all.

"Fine, I'll see you next time Boots. And hey, bring me something nice from your travels, I might give you a discount too"

"What do I look like? A magpie?" he scoffed.

"You look more like a shark, but sure. Anyway, counting on you, Boots"

You gave him a friendly pat on the back, the cowboy tipping his hat to you before leaving, making you wonder sometimes in what part of the galaxy he's going to end up to next time every time he left your workshop.

[kasagia]

I love you... I am sorry

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!witch! reader Summary: According to Baghra, there is only one person who can save her son. You—his first love and a witch who can control the powers of the Darkling. Aleksander becomes a prisoner of the Sun Summoner and King Nikolai, and you are to control and watch over him as he works for his redemption... but does he have the strength and will to continue fighting? And while everyone is busy saving Ravka from Fjerda and Shu Han, you're busy saving Aleksander from himself. Even though he doesn't want you around anymore... Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 ~•♤♤♤•~

"I don't like this," Nikolai grumbles as he, Baghra, and Alina walk deeper into the forest near Ulensk. "Wouldn't it be easier for us to just kill him?"

Alina tenses as she hears the howling of wolves nearby. She weakens her ball of light slightly and instinctively approaches Baghr. Ever since they destroyed the fold, Fjerda and Shu Han have become... more daring in their travels near the border. Something Aleksander had warned her about. She didn't want to risk running into one of the Fjerdan's stray troops.

"We are not like him. He deserves one last chance before we get rid of him." Nikolai sighs and nods. They walk in silence for a few more minutes until they finally reach a small clearing. Baghra stands, staring at one spot.

"Shine more brightly." She orders Alina and kneels down.

Baghra takes out a dagger and cuts her hand. She smears her blood across the leaves, mumbling words under her breath in old Ravkan. Alina and Nikolai look at each other uncertainly when suddenly the branches of the surrounding trees grow. They connect with each other, creating an impenetrable wall around the three of them. Nikolai reaches for his sword, and Alina instinctively reaches into her pocket for her amplifier. The fog thickens around them and the ground shakes slightly as a small wooden hut rises from beneath it.

"I'll go first." Baghra announces and stands up.

"No. We're all going together."

"She's probably not a big fan of yours, Sankta Alina." Baghra sneers, sending the girl a mocking look. "I better get her ready for you."

Alina stubbornly follows Baghra, ignoring her words and disapproving look. Nikolai reluctantly joins the two women, and so the three of them cross the threshold of the small hut.

They enter a living room full of bookshelves and various crystals. A fire burns in the fireplace, and the air smells of lavender from the incense burning on a table covered with various pots, magnifying glasses, and metal tools. The candles burn a little brighter when the door behind them suddenly closes with a loud bang.

"Millennium, and you haven't learnt to knock? Besides, I thought you hated draught." Baghra rolls her eyes at your mocking voice.

You push past the uninvited guests and sit down at the table. You sip your tea and throw the crystal into the cauldron, then set it over the fire burning in your fireplace.

"You probably know what my son has been up to lately?"

"Aleksander has always been an ambitious man. I thought we were all aware of that fact." Alina feels an unpleasant pang in her chest when you use the Darkling's true name when you refer to him. She shakes her head, trying to dispel the unwanted feelings.

"You call the creation and expansion of the fold ambitious?" Alina asks you, irritated. Baghra elbows her in the ribs, but she ignores it completely, giving you a stern, appraising look.

"And you probably think that destroying it was ambitious, right, little sunbeam?" You mock her without even looking at her. Alina doesn't like it at all.

"That was the right thing to do. That was needed to be done."

"Anything that helps you sleep better at night, sunshine. But you realise that now the Fjerdans and the rest will be entering Ravka as if it were their own land, right? If you think the fold was a problem for Grisha, just wait until all the kidnapping, rape, and experimentation on your people begins. I'd love to see what desperate move you will make next when you realise that your problems are only beginning, oh holy Sankta Alina of the Fold."

"I'm not here to discuss Ravka's future with you."

"You shouldn't be here at all." You state, and yawn boredly. You go to the fireplace and take your pot. You put it on the table and stir the dissolved crystal. You prepare a form to pour the mass, but first you add a few leaves and flowers to the substance.

"We need your help. With maintaining control over Aleksander."

"Oh really? Do you remember that time you told me to fuck off because I was of no use to you or your son?" You remind her, smirking as she clenches her teeth and fists, barely controlling her anger. "Besides, Aleksander has never been the submissive type... did it stay that way, Sankta Alina?" You almost laugh as you see the girl blush madly as she can't find her tongue at your comment.

"I… we never…"

"Oh really? Well, my mistake. And your loss." You say, winking at her and giving her a wolfish grin. Baghra clears her throat, drawing your attention for a moment.

"If you don't help us, they will kill him." You frown, setting down all your tools and turning to face the trio. A cold shiver runs down your spine as you carefully choose your next words.

“And remind me, why should I care?”

"I thought you liked your immortality." Baghra nods at your necklace. You wrap your hand around the small heart and swallow, examining her carefully.

"He told you?" You ask in shock, looking at the old woman.

"Of course not. It's Aleksander. I found out on my own." You roll your eyes and fold your arms at her accusatory tone of voice.

"Don't blame him for something you taught him yourself." You respond calmly, giving her a pointed, hard look. Baghra tenses and looks away from you to the crystals hanging above your table. The tension in the room is palpable as you both reminisce about old times.

Maybe centuries ago you managed to break through the wall Aleksander had placed around his heart and see the real him, but just as long ago as you gained access to the deepest and darkest part of him, you lost it long ago and quickly.

"Will you go with us?" Baghra growls, not meeting your eyes. You swallow hardly, thinking about it. You knew that there would come a time to right the wrongs of your past; you just didn't think it would happen so soon. Although, was 500 years a short time?

"And do I have another choice in this situation?" You sigh, knowing full well that it was time for you to join this great war the Summoners were leading.

Ravka needed you.

Aleksander needed you.

“What are you thinking about?” You whisper, placing small kisses on his neck—everywhere you can reach without taking your head off his shoulder.

You and Aleksander lie in the tent, listening to the crickets play their nightly tunes around you. You curl up against him, taking in his warmth as you both catch your breath after completing some... quite enjoyable and pleasant activities.

“How soft your skin is... just as if I were wearing the finest silk.” You snort at his words and prop yourself up on your elbow so you can look at him. You stroke his cheek with your hand, ignoring the prickly two-day stubble on his face, and lean down to whisper in his ear.

"Not that I don't appreciate your ability to fire off compliments so quickly, but I really want to know what's going on inside that pretty little head of yours."

Aleksander sighs heavily and pulls you to him. He kisses you full of passion and ardour, as if you hadn't just given yourself over to each other's desires a few minutes ago. You sigh quietly, allowing him to distract you for a moment with a heated kiss as he climbs on top of you again, trapping you in the cage of his arms.

You place your hands on his chest and reluctantly pull away from his kiss. You pull him closer to you so he rests his forehead against yours, and you inhale his scent, enjoying his closeness.

"I still remember my question, how about you?"

He sighs, playing with your hair. He closes his eyes and gives you one last, short kiss before he rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You sigh, lying pressed against his chest as you listen to the steady beat of his heart. Aleksander plays with your hair, drawing patterns on your scalp with his fingers. He gathers his thoughts, pulling you closer to him and swallows hard before finally speaking again.

"I saw Ulla." You frown, feeling his muscles tense beneath you. You gently trace patterns on his arm with your fingertips, watching him closely as he mentions his sister.

"How is she?"

"Besides the fact that that idiot broke her heart? Very… lonely from what she told me." You sigh and press a kiss on his shoulder. He gives you a small half-smile and runs a hand through your hair.

"She needs time to heal. You'll see, you'll complain again that she and I spend too much time at the fairs and by the lakes and that she's stealing me from you." You joke, hoping to hear him chuckle, but he just sighs deeply, still haunted by thoughts of his sister.

"I asked her to return. To me. To us." He says thoughtfully and unconsciously tightens his grip on you, as if he were afraid that you might slip out of his arms at any moment.

"She didn't agree, I assume?" You ask quietly, cupping his cheek in your hand and stroking it tenderly with your thumb.

You want to give him all the physical closeness he needs. Give him every little reassurance that for now you're staying and you're not going anywhere. Or at least you hope to stay with him a little longer...

"Every person close to me, whether from my family or not, eventually leaves me. And never comes back. I'm afraid it'll be the same with her. I've buried a lot of brothers and sisters... but Ulla... it's different with her. I've taken care of her since she was a child. From the very beginning. I know she won't live as long as I, but... I'm sick of everyone leaving me."

"Ulla loves you. She won't leave you for long… I hope so."

"And would you come back to me? If we somehow got separated... would you return if I asked you to?" He asks, looking at you carefully.

In a heartbeat. You think about it, but you don't tell him. You don't want to give him false hope. Instead, you press lazy kisses along the column of his neck and jaw.

"Depends on how passionately you would ask me to…" You whisper seductively against his ear. A smirk appears on his face, and he raises an eyebrow, giving you a wicked, suggestive look.

“Greedy little thing.” He mumbles, nuzzling your cheek. His lips descend to your neck, where he sucks a hickey. You moan, exposing more of your neck to him and grinding against him.

“That’s why you love me.” You whine as he pushes you onto your back and presses his chest against yours. He cups your cheek in his hand, staring at you as if he’s trying to memorise and engrave every little detail of your face into his memory.

"I love you for more than that, little witch…" He mumbles into your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

A shiver of desire courses through you again. You pull him to you and kiss him passionately, digging your fingers into his shoulder as his hand wanders below your collarbone and cups your breast. He massages and kneads your body, plays with your nipple, and all you can think about is how good you feel under him, how he makes you experience pleasure so intense that you doubt you'll find it with anyone else.

You don't want to look for anything else. You want to be under him forever, intoxicated by the touch of his soft lips and rough hands as he takes you apart into tiny pieces, showing you the secrets of unimaginable and immense pleasure that makes you feel like you can't breathe anymore.

And you find yourself wanting to stop breathing if it meant that you would stay with him forever.

"From where exactly did you get your powers? Grisha are born that way, what about you? Has your family been witches for generations?" The young king of Ravka's question tears you from your thoughts.

"Why this curiosity, Your Highness?" You reply teasingly, watching him closely as you all rode horses to the capital.

You had been on the road for a few days now, and you were now leading them to one special place. Alina and Baghra, when they weren't giving you suspicious glances, were whispering to each other. Meanwhile Nikolai was trying to keep you occupied with conversation. He turned out to be a pleasant traveling companion. Not like certain women.

"A good king should take an interest in his subjects and know what kind of people live within the walls of his kingdom." His simple answer surprises you a little. The kings of his dynasty had a... completely different approach to this. Your years had taught you to distrust all monarchs, but this young king really did seem different from them all. You wondered how quickly he would fall.

"I am not your subject. I may live in Ravka, but neither I nor my family have ever sworn allegiance to the kings frim your dynasty. And we don't intend to."

"I see… so a free spirit? A woman of the world, as they call it?" You chuckle at this, shaking your head gently.

"You could say that. We sleep where we have comfortable moss under our heads, under the open sky with the stars as our guardians. I and the witches of my tribe are one with nature, with the earth, with what grows and dies on it. We are the guardians of the circle of life."

"However, not all of them decide to be in this cycle of life and follow it." Baghra points this out scathingly. You turn in your saddle to look at her for a moment.

"My immortality is no problem for Mother Nature, Baghra. Neither is yours. Nor is Aleksander's, or your little saint's. But it is in my care that the whole world does not suddenly become immortal. There is a worse evil in your shadows than you, volcra or nichevo'ya. And if I could go back in time, I would do the exact same thing… maybe just in a different way."

You shift your gaze from the old woman to the lakes before you, leading your horse onto a side path. You were not far from your destination place. You close your eyes and sigh, trying not to bring up any more memories of your past... any memories of HIM.

Yet, no matter how many years you have lived, you have never been able to contain your burning feeling of regret whenever you remembered what happened between you and Shadow Summoner.

"So? From where did you get your powers?" Nikolai pursues the topic, wanting to know the answer to his question. You run a hand through your hair and pull the hood over your head, realizing you won't get far without an answer. Autumn was coming. Cold autumn.

"The witches' coven I belong to accepts a new member every 100 years. In exchange for the powers the new witch receives from Mother Nature, she must sacrifice something."

"So what did you sacrifice? Your mortality?"

"No. She has sacrificed her ability to lie. She can only tell the truth. But do not be deceived. Even without that, she can conceal part of the truth and mislead you." Baghra answers for you. You roll your eyes at her, scanning the area. You smile when you see a familiar pine tree.

"I had a reason to do that. It was not an act of cunning on my part. I had to unless... that's not important now. Besides, I am far from a master like you, Baghra." You hear Nikolai chucklea softly as you speed up your horse. You reach the tree and dismount, sighing in relief as your feet touch the ground.

You walk to the tree and lean your hand against it. You grab one of the crystals you keep in your pocket and the dagger. You make a hole in the tree's bark and insert the crystal. You whisper a few words under your breath and sigh, feeling the wind on your skin. The water in the lake splits in half. You turn around with a small smile on your lips.

"Hello Ulla." You greet Aleksander's sister with a smile, watching Baghra turning pale from the corner of your eye as she faces the daughter she abandoned ages ago.

Best day of your life.

"How is he?" You ask Aleksander's sister when she returns from the cell they're keeping him in. The brown-haired one snorts, jumping onto your bed and taking your glass of whisky from you.

Today, your little group finally made it to the capital. The first thing Ulla did was visit her brother. She looked older than the last time you saw her. Streaks of grey hair were starting to appear on her head, and you swear you saw a few wrinkles on her face. Time had done its thing to her. Your heart ached at the thought that in 300 years, she might not be here anymore...

"Angry, frustrated, resigned. At first, I didn't recognise him at all. Those scars... and he... he doesn't have that twinkle in his eyes like he used to. Like... like he doesn't care anymore. He was excited to see me, but this... this isn't the same Aleksander he was before. I felt like a stranger was standing before me, not Sasha. Baghra was right. Something's wrong with him."

"I'll kill their little saint. And your mother." You growl completely mad at them both because of the state they brought Aleksander to and get out of your bed. You go to the closet and put on one of your grey coats, ignoring the mischievous look Ulla gives you.

"You still love him, don't you?" You roll your eyes at her and shove your hands into your pockets, making sure you have a few crystals there in case you need to use your magic.

"I forgot how much you love coming up with your conspiracy theories. Which by the way are very annoying."

"You're not answering my question." She replies with a smirk. She walks over to you and gently smooths your hair. You snort, pushing her hands away, knowing full well that she's getting you ready to meet her brother.

"It's no secret that I care about him. We spent a good few years together, almost a century if I remember correctly. Is it possible to just forget about someone like that?"

"I don't think so. You should have seen his reaction when I told him you came here with me. I thought he had a heart attack." You groan at her words, disbelieving that she was actually playing matchmaker between you and her brother right now.

"You told him?!"

"You go to him anyway. What's the problem?" She replies indignantly, walking back to your bed and laying down on it. You roll your eyes at her, and with a wave of your hand, the pillow she had under her head disappears. Ulla shouts at you angrily, and you quickly materialise the pillow in your hands and throw it at the woman.

"Because of you, I lost all the element of surprise that I could have used on him to get some information!" You growl at her angrily, grabbing and throwing away the pillow she threw at you. You jump on the bed and pin her to the mattress, laughing at her as she growls, trying to get out from under you.

"Wait! Wait! I'll tell you how he reacted to that!!" She screams from under the pillow you've started to smother her with. You lift the pillow enough to look at her face.

"How? He made those big, puppy eyes of his and asked you to free him from his cell so he could run to me and give in to his long-held passion and feelings?" You mock her as you climb off of her. You lean against the wooden bedpost, watching her try to catch her breath.

"More or less… he asked what you looked like, how you were, if we had met before… if you were with someone." She says maliciously, giving you a big, sly, wolfish smile.

"You're joking, right?" You ask her, trying to hide your surprise under a neutral, bored tone.

"No. Our Sasha wanted to know if you had someone for his place."

"Is that exactly how he put it in words?"

"Well… maybe not." She replies after a moment, running a hand through her hair. You sigh, shaking your head at her in disbelief. So many years, and sometimes she still behaved like a child.

"Ulla." You growl at her and reach for the pillow again.

"Okay, okay. No need to be violent. He asked if Baghra had also sent for you, so that you could fly in on your magic broom and stab him in the heart once and for all, or if you had found yourself a new more intersting toy, but hey, at least he was interested and asked!"

"Poor consolation."

"You know how Sasha is." You sigh in resignation at this. You bite your lip so hard that you taste your own blood on your tongue. You promised yourself that you wouldn't get your hopes up… Aleksander and you were a long-finished affair. No matter what his sister thought.

"I know him too good to have any illusion that he sees me as anything more than an enemy and a traitor." You answer and get out of bed, mentally preparing yourself to meet him.

"Where are you going?!"

"To him! A day without tormenting him is a wasted day!" You shout over your shoulder and close the door behind you.

You walk lazily through the corridors of the Grand Palace, as if deliberately prolonging the moment of seeing Aleksander, and head towards the second building in the royal courtyard. You sigh again as the majestic panorama of the Little Palace unfolds before you.

Looking at the beautiful, imposing building, you reluctantly recall the plans your Shadow Summoner made centuries ago.

“What are you doing?” You ask, coming up behind him as he sits at one of the tables in the library of the town you’re staying in for a few nights.

Aleksander bounces slightly in his chair and quickly shoves his sketchbook and art supplies into his bag. You frown, wondering what he's hiding from you, when he turns to you with that damn distracting smirk on his face.

"Nothing important, milaya. Were you looking for me? Do you need anything?" He asks and walks over to you, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses your forehead tenderly before he wraps his arm around your waist and starts leading you out of the library.

"Your mother was looking for you. She needs babysitters for Ulla again." You say, nuzzling his neck and inhaling his scent. You wrinkle your nose at the familiar scent of burning metal and sweat from his work at the forge. He laughs at your reaction and pulls you closer to him, making sure you don't pull away from him despite everything.

"I know, I need to take a bath. But I hope you will help me?"

"Taking a bath?" You ask suggestively, laughing as he blushes all shyly and looks at you nervously.

"No!" He almost screams and buryes his face in your hair with a groan as you continue to laugh at him. "Taking care of Ulla."

"Always. But first…" you start and reach into his bag. You pick out his sketchbook and run forward, looking for the page he was working on so furiously in the library before you spoke.

“Y/N, no!” Aleksander shouts and runs after you. A few long strides of his, and you’re pinned to the ground by him. You laugh and struggle under him, but your struggle is futile. He quickly rips the sketchbook out of your hands and puts it somewhere safe before he pins your wrists to the ground. "You can't look into it without my permission. It is... personal."

"Sorry, handsome." You say and kiss his blushing cheek. You giggle as he lets go and climbs off of you. Before he can stand up, you snuggle into his back and wrap your arms around him. Your nose brushes his ear as you whisper quietly. "But you're so secretive lately… you know I don't like to not know what's in that pretty little head of yours. If you don't want to talk, then don't, but I just want to know if everything's okay and if there's nothing steaming up under your skull."

"I'm fine… I just... I will tell you in our room in tavern." You nod at his words and grab his hand. He gives you a small smile as you both walk through town, ignoring the looks you get from passersby who witness your little skirmish.

Once you're there, Ulla runs straight to Aleksander, wrapping her little arms tightly around his legs. The little one cries into his pants, sobbing that she thought you had abandoned her. The sight breaks your heart and makes you want to cut Baghra up and roast him into little pieces.

Aleksander abandons his bag and embraces the girl in a tight embrace. He goes to one of the single beds and tries to calm her down, whispering soft words of reassurance into her ear that he will never leave her. You sigh and pick up Aleksander's bag. You put it back on the hanger and briefly consider peeking in.

You abandon the idea and head back to the two of them to join in the group hug. You silently worry about what your "boyfriend" might have come up with. You're afraid it'll be something for your ring finger.

A moment later, as Ulla falls asleep with her head on your lap, Aleksander returns with dinner for the three of you. His sketchbook is tucked under his arm.

"I want to show you something." He whispers and sets the food on the nightstand next to your double bed. He crouches down next to the sinle bed where the two of you are and opens the book. Your heart is beating like crazy, your hands shaking as you take the leather-bound book from him.

"What is this?" You ask, looking closely at the outline of a grand building. It looked almost like a palace.

"I... I know this life isn't one of the best we could have... but it's still one of the best I've ever had. Of course it's all thanks to you and Ulla. I... I have a proposition before me. A very serious one. If I play my cards right, I'd like to build a place for the three of us. And for the other Grisha who are in need of their own safe place. Can you imagine? No more working in some shitty places, no more hiding our identity... it could be really nice, right?"

You sigh, gently placing Ulla's head on the pillow. You take Aleksander's hand and lead him to your bed. You both sit up slowly as you think about everything he's just told you.

"That... would be nice. But... Aleksander, this is a palace. The king would never agree; you know how he feels about us. Tell me you're not getting involved in anything dangerous." You sigh and place your hand on his cheek. He buries his face in your palm and closes his eyes. He wraps his arms around you tightly and presses a kiss to your temple before burying his nose in your hair.

"I'll be fine… but I'm tired of hiding. It's time to come out of the shadows… start using my powers and do something good not only for us, but for the other Grisha. Too many of us have died because of their stupidity."

"And I don't want your name added to that long list. Ulla needs you, and I'd rather have you alive with me, too." You mumble into his neck, holding on to him tighter.

"Is this your way of saying that you love me?" He asks teasingly, drawing patterns on your back with his fingers.

"That's my way of telling you that if you die, I'll find some damn spell or some other way to bring you back to life just so I can skin you for being such an idiot to get yourself killed."You growl quietly so as not to wake up Ulla and pull away from him to look into his eyes. Aleksander swallows, realising how true your words are.

"I'm not leaving you… not on purpose. I will always do everything in my power to come back to you. I promise." He whispers and kisses you sweetly, softly, thus sealing his promise.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him closer to you. You fall onto the mattress on your back with him above you and surrender to the blissful feeling of his arms around you.

You try to enjoy this as long as you can.

Before you know it, you're standing in front of the door to his cell. Sankta Alina and her king Nikolai have taken pity on him enough to set up cells for him in his former general's quarters. Of course, only after they've thoroughly searched the room. Such a petty act of malice.

You take one deep breath and enter the chamber.

It's dark there. Terribly dark. You can barely see your fingers as you close the door behind you. You reach for the crystal in your pocket and pull it out, holding it like a torch. You mutter the appropriate spell under your breath, and suddenly light emanates from the gem. You sigh as you see Aleksander standing just outside the bars, already staring at you intently.

"Aleksander." You whisper, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling you get from looking at the scars on his face and the fact that he hasn't spoken or made a fucking move yet. Not even for an inch. You doubt if he even blinks once since you entered. The son of a bitch was trying to intimidate you and scare you away. "Did they cut out your tongue?" You scoff, walking up to him and giving him an equally crazy, psychopathic look.

"Will you ever learn how to knock?"

"You seem to be very aware of my presence even before I open this door. Unless you have so many guests here that you simply cannot tear yourself away from these bars?"

"Too much lately." He hisses in irritation through clenched teeth, at which you roll your eyes.

"Hmm… good thing I'm not your guest." You say sarcastically and wave your hand, teleporting one of the chairs from his cell/chamber to the other side of the bars. You sit comfortably in front of him with the light-emitting crystals in your lap and just look at him, waiting for him to speak.

"I guess if I don't do this, you'll never get out of here, so there you go. Why are you here?" He asks after a long moment of silence, sighing as he finally gives up.

"I have been given a task by Their Royal Highnesses." You scoff, watching as the frown on his forehead deepens as he ponders the hidden meaning behind your words. "Aren't you curious what it might be?"

"With their brains? No big deal, I suppose." He mocks them and steps away from the bars. He pours himself a glass of whisky and sits down at a table with maps spread out on it. You raise an eyebrow at how... convenient he is. You don't remember the guest room they assigned you having such comforts.

"Yet they have locked you up here… without powers I suppose? I cannot feel your shadows." You see his fingers tighten angrily around the glass. You make a mental note that this is clearly not a pleasant topic for him.

"Still have that pendant?" He asks, nodding at you when he spots your heart-shaped pendant. You tense up and pull your knees to your chest, blocking his view of the necklace.

"Apparently. Would I be here if I didn't have it?" You answer carefully, fully aware of the game you're playing with Aleksander now. Everything you said was meant to hurt the other, to prove that you weren't impressed at all by being in the other's presence again. Even if you both had some... strong feelings at the sight of the other, you wouldn't admit it.

All that mattered now was who would win and hit the hardest, breaking the mask of indifference that you both tried so hard to keep on your faces... although his eyes tell you a little that your presence here isn't so irritating and indifferent to him at all.

"Of course not. After all you don't have a heart of your own."

You smile, trying not to show how his words really affected you. You internally regret that he went from being the person you trusted with all your worries to someone you wouldn't let see even a glimmer of pain in your eyes.

"Ouch. That hurt. And here I tried to be nice and inform you that for now on I am your guard and I oversee your resocialization process."

"I beg you pardon?" He asks in shock as you casually play with the gem in your hands. Aleksander watches closely as the light from it reflects off your fingers, face, chin, cheeks, lips…

"Just like you heard, honey. We'll be spending more time together again, aren't you happy?" You reply with a mocking smile and watch him carefully, gauging how he reacts to this new message.

"Resocialization? Does the fact that I wanted to help Grisha make me some kind of criminal from Ketterdam?"

"Words of Sankta Alina, not mine. Your ex probably doesn't like you very much. And from what I heard, you started destroying villages. You know who used such practices, right?" At the reference to his mother, he becomes even more gloomy. You get the feeling that if he could still control his shadows, he would at that very moment engulf the room in total darkness.

"Alina is not my ex." He merely comments as he adjusts the fastenings of his all-black kefta.

"My bad."

He stares at you for a long moment. You feel your skin burn where his eyes linger a little longer. You take advantage of that time to watch him too, searching for any slight changes in him since you last saw him.

"You, of all people, are supposed to lead me to the good, righteous path? This is ridiculous." You snort, also amused by the absurdity of this situation. Out of the two of you, N had always been the more... righteous one. Ironically, you were the one who was supposed to dig up the last remnants of his morality.

"Well, for some reason they want you alive. And they want you to cooperate. I'm supposed to be… a go-between in all of this mess."

"More like an infernal messenger of the devil." You smile, shaking your head. Aleksander tries to ignore the slight flutter in his heart and the pleasant warmth spreading through him as he witnesses your smile again.

"You always knew how to give me such beautiful compliments."

"They are desperate, aren't they? Destroying the fold didn't help and now they don't know what to do and want my advice? Tell your masters it's too late now." He says, returning to the main topic. He stands up from the war table, and you see him heading deeper into his chambers, probably his bedroom. With a wave of your hand, you close the door in his face before he has a chance to leave the room.

"You know very well that I have no master over me." You tell him, standing up from the chair as he slowly turns to face you.

"You haven't changed a bit, have you Y/N?" He asks, slowly approaching you. You shiver when you hear your name on his tongue. You clench your hands behind you as he slowly approaches you. The tension in the room is immense as you both stand as close to the bars as you can.

"Well, apparently neither do you." You whisper, trying to ignore the way he smelled so wonderful, how in an instant his closeness and the warmth he radiated made you feel at home again. How much you wanted to sink back into his arms and his sheets…

"Why are you here?" He asks, but is met only by your silence and a cold gaze that almost makes him tremble. "Don't you have other things on your mind? You're not going to tell me that this is only for my sake? I know perfectly well that you wouldn't return if I asked you. So why did you listen to my mother and also bring Ulla?"

"You don't know if I would come back. You never asked." You respond, your voice barely above a quiet purr. There’s a long silence after your words. He lifts his hand and wraps his fingers around the bars—dangerously close to your cheek.

"And are you surprised?"

"No. Actually, I am not."

You examine the scars on his face and barely manage to stop yourself from slipping your fingers between the bars and tracing them with your fingertips. Aleksander holds his breath, his lips twitching as he resists any movement under your watchful gaze.

He fights with himself not to reach for you and brush his fingers against your soft, velvety skin, or check that you're actually here in the flesh and not a figment of his imagination. Your sweet scent intoxicates him, reminding him how dangerous you are and that he can't trust you like he did. Which doesn't change the fact that he wants it so much.

"Gently, Ivan." You frown, not understanding what he means.

"What..." You're not allowed to finish. You feel your heartbeat slow down, and you slip into unconsciousness, only noticing the red and black kefta of one of his heartrenders out of the corner of your eye.

Your vision blurs, you slowly fall asleep, and all you can see before you collapse into the heartrender's arms are Aleksander's black eyes.

The son of a bitch ordered one of his men to put you to sleep and carry you out of his cell. Bastard.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Lost in the Weeds

Yandere Plant Man x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Non-con, anal sex, painful sex, violent sex, bondage, drugged reader, paralysis, sadistic yandere, dacryphilia, general yandere behavior, oviposition?)  Word Count: 1.8k (Sorry this took so long for me to write, I hope you all like it.) 

   You were a deep space interplanetary botanist specializing in the retrieval and propagation of medically important plant species. Right now you were on the barely mapped planet Varliss IV trying to find an extremely rare flowering plant, Solanum volātilis that, despite extraterrestrial origin, appeared to be a member of the family solanaceae.    All previous attempts to propagate this rare species in an artificial environment had failed, but you were sure you could figure it out if you could only find the plant when it had a few seed pods on it.

 Procuring some seed specimens was easier said than done though. The first thing you had to do was keep trudging through this damnable jungle. Luckily there were no life threatening species, but it was still a slog through mud and foliage, and the humidity was oppressive. And even if they were not harmful there were still a number of insects that bit and swarmed around mammals, requiring an explorer’s outfit that covered your legs and arms completely. An outfit that did nothing to help the sweltering heat.  You wiped your brow and continued your trek through thick mud and odd cyan and purple vines and leaves, thorns and thistles scraping and poking uselessly at your clothing.  After what was surely many hours of hiking from the clearing you had landed your spacecraft in you still had found no trace at all of the plant. It was a highly uncommon species though, so it was not like you expected this to be easy. Science seemed amazing and technical and sometimes even magical, but you knew that it all required a lot of grunt work.  You were about to set up your camp for the night in a small clearing you had stumbled across when much to your astonishment you actually found what appeared to be the bloom of the flower you were seeking on a vine.  You pulled out your magnifying glass and reference book as you got closer to make a positive identification. Yes, this was definitely the right flower, a large bell shaped flower that was deep purple with cyan streaks and dark blue freckle-like dots on the inside. Though the vine it was attached to was much thicker than it should be. Though any number of circumstances could account for anomalous growth such as that.  You rubbed the vine out of curiosity and were astounded to find that it felt unnaturally warm. You were much more astounded when it moved away from you entirely and then the figure of a large humanoid, easily 8 feet tall, was suddenly looming above you.  You fell back on your rump and looked up in disbelief, unable to find your words. The tall humanoid appeared to be male, his long hair was red but had several vines with cyan leaves going through it, his mouth had two thorn-like fangs, he had a large vine like tail covered in the flowers that you sought out, his skin was cyan with dark blue freckles and his arms, legs, and the tip of his very much exposed cock were all dark purple. His cock was also leaking a viscous magenta fluid that dripped a bit on your face.  “And just what do you think you’re doing, touching me like that!?” He growled as he looked down at you menacingly before using one arm to easily hoist you up and hold you about a foot off the ground. “How do you like being touched without permission, huh!?” “Wh-wh-what? No! I just- I um. I was ju-just looking for seeds! I didn’t kno-” You barely managed to sputter out before getting cut off by the monstrous plant.  “Oh, you want seeds, well why didn’t you just say so? I can bring you to all of the seeds for the flowers like the ones on me, no problem.” He put you down and brushed you off, something about the way he smirked left you unsettled, but you did not want to risk his anger and so you just muttered a thanks as he took your hand and started leading you away. You exchanged names while walking with him, learning his name was Drosera. You really should have just taken your chances and ran, because as far as Drosera was concerned you had marched into his territory and were now his private property.  He lead you deeper into the strange forest until finally you came to the gaping maw of a cave. You gasped as you entered and were greeted with the surprising sight of rays of sunlight streaming in through a hole in the roof leading to the creation of a sheltered grove. Moss, trees, flowers, vines, and a small babbling brook all hidden away from the world.    There, in the center, were indeed the flowers indicative of the plant you were searching for, this time without being attached to any intelligent life. You rushed towards them in your excitement and did not notice the sprawling vines of your companion quickly approaching you from behind as you were bent down to examine the flora.  Before you knew what had happened each of your limbs and your mouth had been completely wrapped up in tendril like vines. You tried writhing from their grasp but you might as well have been trapped by steel for all the good it did you. Your muffled wails and whines were equally useless, not eliciting even the slightest bit of empathy from your captor.  Tears rolled down your cheeks, pooling a bit at the vines that restrained your lips. The vines suspended you a few feet above the ground and pulled you towards him and he brushed the tears from your face with a deceptively gentle hand. “Awe, why are you crying little human? I am just about to give you exactly what you asked for.”  Drosera brought his mouth to your neck, ghosting his two thorn-like fangs against your sensitive skin before suddenly penetrating your flesh. You writhed in pain as he injected you with a powerful venom. He held you close with both the vines extending from his back and his arms as if trying to comfort you through the pain.  Soon you found yourself almost completely unable to move, capable now of only the most feeble attempts at struggling. Whatever he injected you with was clearly intended to do away with any possibility of escape for what was about to happen next.    The tight grip the vines had had on you loosened a bit, as he no longer needed to keep you so well restrained. He used his vines to slowly, almost sensually, peel off all of your equipment and clothing until you were left exposed under the excited gaze of his violet eyes. All you could manage to do was let out a small whimper as you averted your gaze.  Drosera roughly felt up your body, eager greedy hands rubbing and groping you all over, grabbing on to what was now his.  The vines that extended from his back still held you up despite your limp and envenomed state, they quickly moved you into a bent position, your head facing away from your captor as he gruffly gripped your hips, caring little, if at all, for your comfort.  You could feel more of his vines creeping up your legs, reaching and grabbing like tentacles until they found what they were looking for, your asshole.  They roughly prodded at your entrance as you stammered out pleas of mercy, sobbing and begging Drosera to please just release you, promising that you would never cross into his territory or even come back to this planet at all. But he just laughed sadistically, your cries serving only as fuel for his arousal.  Suddenly and without warning the slender vines prodding at you jammed their way inside, eliciting a scream from your sobbing form. There had been no stretching, no application of lube, just a brutal penetration. And he was certainly not going to stop with just his vines.  You could feel them writhing and probing their way deeper and deeper inside you, after the initial pain of them entering you faded it was replaced with an uncomfortable and disgusting feeling of being unnaturally full and violated.  Your sobs finally slowed down as you became more accustomed to your situation, and that is when Drosera decided he needed to apply more pain. To utterly and completely dominate you mind, body, and spirit. To enjoy those beautiful tears that set his heart aflutter while he was inside you.  So he withdrew his tendrils from your insides and before you could even breathe a sigh of relief replaced them with his giant cock, still dripping with pink fluid. You shrieked so loudly at him ramming himself into your un-lubed ass that he almost came on the spot. He could feel it in his cock each time a scream, whimper, or pained sob racked your body.  He pulled your hair roughly from behind with one hand while gripping your hip hard with the other as he continued abusing your poor hole in as painful a way as he could.  “You should be grateful, slut! You wanted seed so badly and that’s just what you are about to get!!” He chuckled cruelly at his joke as he continued ramming into you with more and more speed as he began to wildly chase his climax.  The plant man put a firm hand on each collar bone and jerk you back painfully to get as deep into you as he possibly could as he filled you with a warm viscous fluid, you were confused though when instead of that being the end of it he then started to fill you up with a lot of something that felt round and hard.  After filling you the vines holding you in place retracted and he sat you down in his lap, causing fluid to leak out of you and onto him, though he did not seem to mind at all or even notice.    It suddenly clicked even in your rattled and abused psyche that he had literally filled you with his seeds. A million panicked thoughts went through your mind. What if they sucked out all your nutrients and moisture to grow in your corpse, what if they burst through your skin, what if th-  Your horror must have been plastered all over your face because Drosera interrupted your downward spiral of fears by saying, “Don’t worry, they won’t harm you. They are like eggs and when they are about to pop open they will come out of you, you will such a lovely incubator to keep full of my children~”  You began sobbing and hyperventilating, still unable to do anything more than weakly twitch under the long lasting effects of his venom.  “Fuck, you’re so hot when you cry for me, so beautiful.” He gently wiped your tears away with his thumb as you realized this is what your life would be like from now on.  No more dreams or a career advancing science. Just sobbing and being a flower pot for some alien monster’s seeds just for the horrible crime of bumbling into his territory.

[margareth-lv]

⛓️ When art and life become one ⛓️

I believe fairy tales have a great deal of therapeutic power. And there's nothing quite like a good story.

As I’ve written here a few times before, I first started watching Outlander in 2020 – a challenging year for us all. At that time, we all needed a good story to take our minds off reality. And to move into the catharsis that art offers. You can imagine my excitement when I realised that two actors (who were so obviously in love) playing the characters in the story were born around the same time as the characters they were playing.

James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, born on 1 May. Sam Roland Heughan, born on 30 April. Both Taurus, just like me. Claire Beauchamp Randall Fraser, born on 20 October. Caitríona Mary Balfe, born on 4 October. Both Libra.

And, as you might expect, in both the play and real life, she is older than he is. Isn't it wonderful how things just fall into place sometimes? There’s always something to ponder, think about and enjoy.

But it's been a while since we've seen joy in "enjoy." The Taylor Swift concert is the exception that proves the rule, here.

I'm getting tired of the low-level storytelling we've been presented with for a while now. This story is the worst of the worst. It’s a pretty poor selection of C, D, and E cinema.

And it's pretty sad how two people, who literally built their relative public recognisability on being the 'hottest couple on the screen', are now pathetically role-playing their supposed 'real love lives'. And neither of them succeeds. They're also pretty weak actors in their roles of romantic lovers (I'm thinking mainly of Sam here). Let me just say that they're not pathetic only when they're together. *** *** *** When I saw the blurry, embarrassing footage from this weekend's Giorgio Armani Tennis Classic (tagged #ad on Sam's Instagram), my first thought was that it was a spectacle for us, our Tumblr fandom. There's no one else who would be interested in something you have to look for with a magnifying glass, zooming in, spending long minutes stopping frames of film. Then I got reminded about the Wimbledon Tennis Championships back in July 2019 and another poor performances by 'bride' and her 'groom' a month before their 'wedding'.

Do you remember those pictures?

First wife, second wife, Claire Beauchamp Randall Fraser and Laoghaire MacKenzie, I mean, Evie Greenwood, a primary teacher.

You know, realism and art all blend together.

We first saw this kind of kissing being reduced to sucking on the partner's upper lip in what we were forced to think was Sam’s ‘real life’, and then we saw the same thing on screen.

And what about Sam's somewhat embarrassing performance in The Couple Next Door? Which other actor in that film has exposed themselves so much (and so pointlessly), in a literal sense?

How many of us thought Sam's performance in the erotic scenes in TCND was not sexy at all, but disgusting?

I did.

Wasn't that display of Sam's rhythmically moving buttocks as distasteful as his other performance a few weeks ago?

Seriously, I would never want my husband/partner/father of my children to behave like this. There's no money worth it. But maybe there is.

Sometimes I feel sorry for them, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I remind myself of how jealous Cait can be.

How on earth do they manage to live like that?

[3 July, 2024]

[orbitsturns]

•⚠︎ use of y/n, bad angst😭, this is my first fic don’t come for me, not proof read.

fem!reader ,, frat!chris

you and chris could never quite make up your minds, always in some weird game about your feelings. he set rules at the start, ‘no attachment’, the occasional aftercare and a home-cooked meal but things began to change after a few months, sneaking around, sitting on the porch with a drink in-between your palms while you talked about life. behind backs, he would compliment you, ask about your day and of course, ask when you guys could next ‘meet-up’.

but infront of his friends? you were his last priority.

‘hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell.’

the bathroom door in the middle of the jam-packed party slammed shut, trapping you two in after chris had fiddled with the old fashioned lock, sliding it shut with a squeak.

your heart had dropped to your stomach as you had accidentally heard the words he had said to his friends moments prior

‘nah, she’s a freak. she’s just a good fuck every once in a while .. takes out frustration, y’know?’

every small mistake in the bathroom all of a sudden magnified, wanting to give you a reason to lash out on him as your hands trembled.. you were fuming.

the statement along with his obnoxious yet addicting laugh just made you want to curl up in a ball and cry. ‘just a good fuck’; what about all of the times he had held you during a breakdown, your clothes and makeup being scattered around his bedroom, the life stories you guys had told each other and especially the looks he gave you from across the room that he thought you didn’t notice.

chris felt vile. he had never wanted to hurt you, he loved you really .. every hard and soft intimate moment you guys had shared over the past two years, he knew he could’ve just waved his friends question off .. yet he didn’t, he had to ruin it with his big mouth. he had ruined everything.

“listen, ma, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean anything i said, it was stupid of me.” he spoke, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he looked at the floor in shame.

all you could do was fiddle with the sleeve of your jumper, the words getting caught in your throat every time you opened your mouth, how could he say such a thing and just.. apologise like it was nothing?

“so then .. why did you say it? if you didn’t mean it, why did you say it?” you ask, your voice tight and strained as you held back exploding emotions. you were so close to losing your shit on him, but just not yet.

chris looked up at you now, his eyes ripping away from the cold, bathroom tiles. he opened his mouth to speak, chris wasn’t some coward, and he knew he could fix this with you .. just not how.

you were so prepared to leave as he seemed to build up courage to speak, almost as if he was scared of what you’d do if he even breathed the wrong way. you reached your hand above his head, going to unlock the door

“y/n— i—“ he was looking up at your hand now, putting his on-top of yours so that you couldn’t go any further with what you were doing. he just wanted you to listen about what he had to say, why he said what he did to his friends. “please.. please just listen to me.” his voice was broken, the words tumbling out like shattered glass, sharp and fragile all at once.

“no— i don’t even understand why you’d say that about me. i thought after everything, even if there is no strings, after everything you’d have one nice thing to say about me .. but no. so thanks, but i’m going home.” you reply, snapping back at him almost instantly. you huff, ragging his hand away from yours and unlocking the door, turning the doorknob and beginning to walk away.

a problem, chris was extremely stubborn. and he was a very convincing person.

“hold on, please!” he said desperately, turning after you and wrapping his hand around the back of your jumper in attempt to get you to come to a halt. his grip was firm, but not tight enough to pull you back. you turn your head, your eyes met with chris’ needy ones.

“what?”

“please— i just.. i just want to talk this out.”

cliffhanger because i cant process thoughts 😞

[freakspectors]

PAPER SOLDIER.

A Fyodor Dostoyevsky | BSD x Female Reader x Dazai Osamu | BSD Smut Fanfic.

warnings ; smut, pussy slapping, fingering, threesomes, degradation, biting, praise if you squint, orgasm denial if you get a magnifying glass, not proof-read.

author's note ; hihi !! sorry for my absence, im getting ready for school next week, and my birthday was this weekend :) im working on a fic that was dedicated to myself rn, so have this tiny fic. enjoy! funfact: all my fic titles are songs that i like ;p !

“Look at her, clenching around nothing. Pathetic, is it not?”

Dazai and Fyodor laughed with each other, degrading you as if  you weren’t right in front of them. You knew not to speak unless spoken to, afraid of the punishment that would ensue if you had. After the two radiant men in front of you finished joking about your neediness, the Russian knelt down between your shaking legs.

“Do tell, Moya lyubov, how bad do you crave to have both of us inside of you?” he asked. Fyodor caressed your thighs, his breath fanning against your warm, sticky core. Instead of answering, you scoot yourself towards the demon's mouth, begging to have his tongue ravage you.

Disappointed, Fyodor pulls away from your legs and sits on his knees, giving you an insincere frown. You looked at the raven haired man confused, unsure of where Dazai went or why he was upset with you. Before you could even process he was now beside you, the brunette man’s hand smacked down on your cunt, making you jolt and yelp.

“We don’t want to do this, Bella. You’ve been such a good girl until now—” Dazai murmured. Using his middle and ring finger, he spreads you open, shooting a wicked smile at Fyodor; which he returns to him.

“—But you hadn’t answered my question. Disobeying orders results in a punishment; I thought you knew that well,” the rat keened. As if he read his mind, Dazai removed his fingers from your pussy and gave it another rough slap. Tears started to form; but all the two men did was chuckle.

“Wanna give it another go, hun?” the detective asked. He kissed your shoulder, resting his free hand on the other to massage you. “Maybe Fyodor’ll give you another chance..”

“Oh, but her teary, desperate eyes are gorgeous..”

“Indeed. But I’m sure she’s ready to redeem herself.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want to fuck her?”

“So what if I do? If you didn’t want to as well, you wouldn’t be here,” Dazai teased. Listening to them bicker over you only made you wetter, which hadn’t gone unnoticed.

With a hum, Dazai kissed your cheek and slid his fingers back through your slit. You moaned, arching your back at the sudden pleasure. He moved his digits up, rubbing tight circles on your sensitive clit. “C’mon, baby. Answer his question,” he whispered.

Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Fyodor back between your legs, kissing and biting the inside of your thighs. Just the sight of him and Dazai’s fingers could make you cum, but another punishment is the last thing you want. You open your mouth to speak; but a whine leaves your throat instead.

“You’re not fucked dumb already, are you?” the Russian questioned. “We’ve barely even started, kukla.”

“It’s just a few words, belladonna,” Dazai said. His fingers dove inside you, slowly pistoning them in and out of you, “say what he wants, and we’ll make you feel amazing.”

“Here, I’ll even ask you again:” Fyodor starts, “how bad do you crave to have both of us inside of you?”

“S-So bad.. I need both of you to fill me up..” you mumble. Fyodor tutted you and shook his head with another frown. Sighing with dissatisfaction, the brunette pulled his fingers out of you. The tears that were in your eyes finally fell, hot salty streaks going down your cheeks.

“I’m afraid you need to be louder, darling. Just a little more, I swear to you,” the rat said. Dazai shushed you and wiped your tears while Fyodor kissed and nibbled on your thighs like a mouse with cheese. He always got so close to your quivering pussy, yet pulled away each time he did. “Go on, love.”

“So bad, Fyodor.. I-I need the both of you to cum inside me s-so much I pass out..”

“See, was that so hard?” Dazai teased, a punchable smile plastered on his face. If you weren’t in your current situation, you’d glare at him.

“Khoroshaya rabota, moya dorogaya,” Fyodor praised. “Now, get on your hands and knees..”

“It’s time for your reward.” 

@ HELUVAKU 2023 . do not share or repost .

[aethers-bananaa]

prompt: "you make me feel alive. for the first time ever, i can breathe"

pairing: xmen'97 scott summers x afab!reader

genre: fluff, fluff, fluff, slight angst, and fluff

summary: you and scott have started dating recently and everything feels right, like you were meant for each other. scott prepares a surprise date for you and opens up about his feelings - it's the sweetest thing ever

notes: where's jean? nonexistent here... sorry for all her fans ˙◠˙. wc is 802 words and the story's set after the events of xmen 97!

✰ ✰ ✰

The halls of the X-Mansion flooded with children and teenagers, laughter and chatter floating through the air. The weather of spring did not disappoint, the windows of the hall magnifying the rays of the morning sun, the blossoms outside blooming in magnificent pinks and purples.

A hand rested on your shoulder from behind and you whipped around in surprise. With everything that had been going on under Magneto's unfortunate reign, you expected to see something terrible standing there. To your luck, it was someone much more welcome and familiar.

"Scott!" You exclaimed with relief.

"Hey, love," he replied, his baritone voice matching the warmth of the sun.

He pulls you aside, away from the bustling students and into a smaller, empty office. The oaken furniture glowed a golden maple colour under the morning light, a stained glass window casting warm glows of reds and yellows. In front of the head desk, the chairs had been pushed aside, a red and white checkered picnic blanket in their place. A wicker basket sat in the center, overflowing with all sorts of good food and drinks.

"We never get the time to do anything. I thought I'd do something for the both of us together, you know, seeing as we have a break from all the missions," he gestures over to the little setup. "I mean, it's not much but I-"

You almost throw yourself into his arms. Falling into an embrace, you bury your face into his broad chest.

"Oh, Scott. This is sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," you smile. "Sit with me!"

You both take a seat opposite each other, cross-legged like school children. Cracking open a can of soda from the basket, you're unable to suppress your happiness.

"When'd you plan this, may I ask?" You giggle.

"A week ago, I'd say. Running this whole place is my job, and what I should be doing. Buuut... I suppose it was a bit much. I needed to spend time with you, to be with you alone," he half smiles. "Needed to escape for a bit to be honest."

"I'm so very honoured, my captain. I'm glad you're able to do this for us, to take a break. I couldn't be more grateful for you."

Scott rested a large hand on your thigh. "And I you." He moves his hand up and brushes his thumb against your cheek. "God, you're beautiful, you know?"

Your heart grew hot and you blushed, so much so that you thought he'd think you were on fire. "So are you," you laughed.

Your comment elicited an affable chuckle from him.

"Y/N, do you know who I'd be without you?"

"Let me guess, Scott Summers but attractively single?"

"Haha very funny. But seriously, I'd just be Cyclops who worked all day, all night, someone who could never fill Xavier's shoes and was never satisfied. Y/N, you made me realise that there's more than that."

You felt his gaze fall on your face, studying your expression. You looked on helplessly, unable to tear your own line of vision from his own perfectly sculpted face. His amber locks and broad shoulders seemingly screamed for attention.

"Don't say that. You know you are more than that already."

Scott leaned in, closer to you. "No but I mean, I'm nothing without you really. I'm just a mutant without a soul. But you...You make me feel alive, and for the first time ever, I can breathe. With you, I'm an actual person." His voice dropped, almost in a whisper, as if telling you a secret.

His words struck your heart.

"Oh Scott... You're never nothing and never have been nothing. You'll always be a person with a caring soul and a massive heart, with or without me. Please remember that. But, I'll always, always, always be here to tell you. Know that I love you and always will," you reply, reflecting his tone of voice in your own.

Almost nose to nose now, you lean in and kiss him. His long fingers run down your cheeks and reach into your hair, gently tugging at your locks as he kisses you back tentatively. His lips are sweet and familiar, tasting of sunshine. You inhale his woody scent and bask in the warmth of his presence. Your own hands travel to rest on the vast expanse of his muscular chest, feeling his heart beat rhythmically.

After several minutes of burning yet natural passion, you both pull apart, breathing heavily. His crimson lensed glasses sat slightly crooked upon his tall nose bridge. You move your hands to adjust them for him. "Careful there," you chuckled lightly. He smiled.

"Gosh, how lucky am I to have you?" He said, his fingers dancing along your jaw.

"Could say the exact same thing back," you replied.