#they also don't know yet when it imploded

[sol-shines]

guess who just finished warrior nun s1 !! bitch what in the everloving FUCK was that ENDING !!!!!!!!!!

[heavens-whore]

RIDE

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You and Joel run away together for a fresh start, away from the town you both hate. Along the way, you start to have doubts about your decision, but Joel has a way of persuading you that it’s right for you.

A/N: this is my first fic ! It was inspired by a post my friend sent me that was just a pic of motel steps, captioned "need a cigarette here". And the scene unfolded idk. Also I don't really know how to make my posts look cute yet so please excuse this visual abomination for now. Enjoy!!

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: 18+, unspecified age gap, oral (f receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, cigarette smoking, not wearing a seatbelt (please wear a seatbelt fr), running away, getting fired, getting hated on

The sun shone through the dirty window of the truck and started to dip below the horizon, but the heat stayed hanging in the humid air. Your bare feet were resting up on the dashboard and your eyes watched the rural surroundings of the open road race past as you drove further and further away from your old life. The faint sound of 80s rock from the radio and the hum of the truck’s engine did little to silence the thoughts that tormented you- the thought that running away was a big mistake you would come to deeply regret.

You hated your hometown. The weather, the people, the way they talked, the way they dressed, the things they believed in. You even hated the buildings. So why was it all so hard to let go of? You had always wanted to leave, to run away and leave it all behind, start a new life out West and never look back. Joel was the only person who was willing to give it all to you. He never talked about it, but you could see it in his eyes every time you mentioned the idea of leaving. You knew he wanted this too- probably did from a young age. Some teenage pipedream of his that imploded when his daughter was conceived. So he stayed, started his family business, bought a house and raised her. But now she was all grown up and there was nothing to hold him back anymore. All he was waiting for was for you to say the word. 

And you did, after one particularly rough day. You had gone to work in the morning and come home in tears around midday after being fired with no warning. It didn’t matter, you hated the job anyway; but your parents were enraged, furious that you could let this happen. They called you a burden, said you had no ambition and no future ahead of you. In the early afternoon you had shown up on Joel’s doorstep with a bag packed and tears in your eyes, begging him to take you away from it all. And he did. 

He had one hand resting on your thigh, and the other on the steering wheel. His eyes strayed from the road to look over at you, seeing you gaze thoughtfully out the half-open window in your denim shorts and little tank top. He squeezed your thigh to get your attention.

‘You take your seatbelt off again?’ You looked up at him, your eyes wide and clearly swimming with thoughts. But he didn’t push it. You nodded. ‘Gotta put it back on for me, darlin’. We can’t have nothin’ happening, can we? Ambulance would take forever to get to us out here.’ You didn’t say anything, just took your legs down from the dashboard and pulled your seatbelt back on, the polyester squeaking as it unravelled. Joel’s eyes flicked back to the road momentarily but then returned to you. You were being unusually quiet. ‘You doin’ okay?’

You nodded again, but this time feigning contentment.

‘Yeah. Just hot in here.’

Joel’s dark eyes lingered on yours for a moment before flicking back to the road, definitely unconvinced.

‘Well we’re almost to the next stop anyway. Think this motel’s got a pool, too.’

The heat was definitely part of the problem, because when you finally got to the motel, the cool water of the pool lifted your spirits. You put on that new bikini you had bought at an earlier stop along the way and floated on your back, let the water cool your skin while you watched the sunset paint the sky with bright streaks of pink and orange. Joel watched you swim from the edge of the pool for a while before joining you. He splashed you with the water and pulled you beneath the surface, wrapped your legs around his hips and kissed you with such tender desire it made you want to cry.

Later in the evening, you lay awake beside Joel. His arm was wrapped loosely around your waist and he was fast asleep, but all you could do was stare at the chipping paint on the ceiling. Those regrets had started to creep back into your head, and it felt as though there was a war going on in your mind. You thought of your friends, your family, what the people back home would say about the young girl who randomly up and left one day to run away to California with the old man from down the street. You quietly untangled yourself from his grasp and stepped outside for some air. It was dark but the stars were bright, and the crickets chirped as you sat on the steps of the motel and lit a cigarette. You didn’t know what time it was or where exactly you were. All you knew was that it was late and you were far from home. You sucked in the smoke and watched the neon glow of the motel sign dance on the ripples in the pool. It was quiet, peaceful, but the war in your head raged on. It was impossible, trying to tell if this was just some optimistic dream you had cooked up- that you could run away and find your fresh start on the coast and live happily ever after. What if it all blew up in your face and you were forced to come back home to your parents’ fury, that you could be so reckless and believe in some big lie this dirty old man was feeding you?

The creak from the door opening snatched your attention away from your thoughts, and you turned to see Joel’s concerned eyes watching you. He sat on the step behind you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into the warmth of his chest.

‘What’s on your mind, darlin’? Been quiet all day, I know something’s up.’

You took another hit of the cigarette and flicked the ashes onto the steps below you.

‘I dunno. It’s… I dunno.’

He sighed as he watched your troubled expression.

‘We can go back if you want, y’know. Don’t want you to feel like I’m callin’ all the shots here.’

You shook your head.

‘I don’t wanna go back. You know how bad I want this. I just wish I could forget all about home.’

‘You will forget it, sweetheart. Once you see the ocean, you’ll forget all about that town. We’ll start over, yeah?’

You brought the filter back to your lips and inhaled again, your mind still not eased much.

‘What if we get there and we hate it?’

Joel rested his chin on the crown of your head as he held you from behind.

‘Then we’ll go back. Or we’ll go somewhere else. But what if we get there and we love it?’

He had a way of making everything sound so simple and it never failed to blow your mind. 

He plucked the cigarette from between your fingers and put it out, then pulled you to your feet and rested his hands on your waist. ‘S’just a fresh start, darlin’. Nobody’ll know us, nobody’ll look twice when they see us together, they won’t care. We’ll be okay, I promise. And if we ain’t, we’ll think of somethin’ else. Can always go back if we change our minds.”

It was true, but something in the back of your mind told you that you wouldn’t. Joel’s hand stroked your cheek gently, and his dark eyes sparkled under the neon sign as they gazed into yours, full of nothing but intimate affection.

The two of you went back to bed but didn’t sleep. The moonlight seeped in through the flimsy net curtains and illuminated your naked skin as you undressed each other. Joel laid you down on the edge of the bed and stood between your legs, his hands squeezed your breasts gently while his eyes wandered your body, a sigh escaping his lips. He leaned down to press feather light kisses to your neck and collarbones while his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and slid them down your legs. He gripped your thighs tenderly as he pulled them apart, and knelt in between them.

He licked a stripe up your center while moving your thighs to rest on his shoulders. He wrapped his thick arms around them while he lapped at your seam, the taste of your arousal dampening his taste buds. His tongue swirled around your clit, causing your toes to curl and your back to arch while he watched from his position, his boxers tightening with every second that passed until he couldn’t wait any longer. He pressed a tender kiss to your inner thigh and stood up, shoved his underwear down and lined himself up for entrance.

‘You want this, baby?’ He whispered, ‘You want me?’

You nodded eagerly, if there was one thing in this world you knew you wanted for certain, it was him. He slid into you easily, your juices and his saliva soaking him. Small whimpers and whines fell from your lips, as well as his name, while your nails dug deep crescents into his shoulders. He held still once he bottomed out to let you adjust his length. It didn’t matter how many times he had buried himself deep into your walls, he always seemed to stretch them out more each time, the dull ache blending with ecstasy. His eyes held your gaze and he watched your expression as it twisted in pain and pleasure.

‘You okay darlin’? You with me?’

You whispered a soft but adamant ‘Yes,’ and he pulled out before pushing back into you again with the same agonizingly slow pace, his jaw tense as he groaned in pleasure, the head forcing its way in even deeper.

‘Always so wet for me.. Such a good girl.’

Your little moans filled the night air as he started to gradually pick up the pace, speeding up slightly with each deep thrust. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in even deeper; and your arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him into a warm and passionate kiss. Joel’s tongue wetted your bottom lip, asking for entrance into your mouth, and you let it. The sound of his hips slapping against your thighs melted into your sweet whimpers of ecstasy as the heat from his body dampened your skin with sweat.

‘I love you, baby,’ He mumbled against your lips, his thrusts never stopping, ‘love you so much.’

You pinched your eyes shut as the stimulation started to overwhelm you. Each of his movements sent shockwaves through your body, and you could feel your legs start to tremble. Joel laced his fingers with yours and squeezed your hands gently, his voice soft and low. ‘Look at me, baby girl.’ Your eyelids fluttered open to see his eyes were burning into yours and sparkling with passion. ‘There’s those pretty eyes.’ He slowed down, reading your expression, and pressed a tender kiss to your lips. His face hovered above yours as he slowly pushed himself in and out, trying to draw this out as long as he could, before building back up to the same speed as before.

The tension in your stomach was growing, the coil tightening after Joel’s thrusts established a steady pace. He pulled back from you to watch your features contorting with pleasure, your back arching up into him, the moisture on your skin glowing in the dim moonlight. His grip on your hands tightened, and his brows furrowed like they always do when he’s close to the edge. You whimpered to let him know that you were too- no words needed. 

‘Where do you want it, baby?’ His voice was low and gravelly, dripping with hunger.

‘Inside. Please.’ You whispered desperately and squeezed his hand.

‘You sure?’ His jaw was tightening and his eyes were dark, and you knew you had to decide fast. But your mind was already made up. You nodded certainly, right on the brink of shattering.

You both fell apart at the same time. His hips stuttered as you felt his warmth blossoming deep within your core, and your desperate whimpers and groans bounced off the walls of the small dim room. Joel pushed himself somehow even deeper into you as your walls clenched tightly around him, choking his length. He leaned down to your face again, your lips meeting in a messy, loving kiss while he tried unsuccessfully to still his hips, continually pulsing within you and filling you up with his climax. 

He didn’t pull out- you asked him not to. He just rested you on his lap and rested his back against the cheap headboard of the bed while you were still intimately connected. The sun was starting to rise and orange rays shone through the parting in the curtain as Joel held you, his fingers running through your hair while drips of his release seeped out onto your inner thighs. It was quiet, the sound of the crickets had subsided and the only noise you could hear was the steady beat of Joel’s heart where your head rested on his chest. It was time to hit the road again soon, but this time your mind was clear, and you knew it was what you wanted.

[4mrplumi]

( crow choir. entry one ) ── dust of snow ( m.s | prev/next )

author's note at the end

you have three brothers- no, two brothers. you’ve only heard of the third. you can hardly think of them as such, feeling traitorous to your old family… families. but you are also a lonely child, so you give them permission to be props of your plain life.

the eldest, with stark blue eyes and dimples at his near-permanent smiles is named richard grayson. he’d given you a warm grin the day you arrived, that somewhat wavered at the blank look you hoped you gave him. you don’t talk to him, but sometimes you wish you did.

you know nothing of the second, apart from his first name; jason. the usual answers to unasked questions, that piece together via general conversations, don’t form here, and you can’t be bothered to ask. you wonder where he is, does he not come to visit?

the youngest of the three is younger than you too, tim drake the butler says, by maybe one or two years, you never tried to figure it out. he came to the house about a few months after you arrived, but seems far more involved with bruce’s business than you ever will be (ever hope to be). there’s a familiar twitch to his brows, and you relate it to old inquisitive roommates, the ones that tried to figure you out without asking questions and always gave up eventually. 

it's a relief he doesn't even try at all.

it does feel a little odd, to not have to talk to anyone just to shoo them away. you strangely miss it, the feeling of being irritated at bothersome small talk. in the silence of the manor, which had not much for a child to do, you start to feel lonely

you've never felt lonely before. alone, yes, isolated, absolutely, but lonely? you've never wanted company. not from anyone who wasn't... forget it.

and thus, you're in an odd situation. you want to be a part of the family, but you have no interest in talking to them. why, the mere idea makes you sweat all over, and you prefer your few meals in your room.

you don't like it. wanting so badly to converse with your brothers, get to know them the way you knew your old previous foster-care siblings, but not being able to.

in your old houses, the children would be somewhat put into forced proximity, there was no choice other than to call out for company. you'd gotten absurdly used to being reached out to without having to do it yourself. your brothers must be busy, or you must be too quiet for them to notice you around.

so with all the courage you could muster, you crept up to an idle older brother, visiting after so long from bludhaven. you might implode from the short moment where he looked at you with confusion, not knowing who you are, before giving you a awkward smile of acknowledgement. no matter, it's not his fault.

he nods off your subtle attempt at asking for his time, maybe you're not being clear enough? it's enough to put you off, so you leave quickly after he gives you a small promise to talk later, maybe get out of the house for a while.

it's such a small thing, but it makes you embarrassed. you try to build up a little stubbornness, and look to find tim. but when you find him immersed deeply in a book, a journal of some sort, you decide otherwise and leave.

it's okay. you'll try again! when you're feeling better. better and livelier.

livelier.

your patterned quilt does little to keep away the monstrous cold of gotham's winter nights, and does it wreck though your nerves and leave you shivering.

the butler; alfred, had given you a good understanding of the room's systems, yet another thing that'd take time to get used to, and you knew the switches that would connect your vents to the central heating system.

but it feels so surreal, and the familiarity of huddling into your own ice cold limbs for warmth is a comfort you can't let go off just yet. you mustn't allow these new privileges to make you forget who you are. what you are, and what you deserve.

you recall a young boy in one of your old homes, discussing earnestly with your 'sisters' about what he'd do if he had all of gotham's money. the prospect of being filthy rich had always irked you to a small degree, to be well-off when others struggle. was it guilt? 

he'd gone on and on about the different things he'd get. a curly-haired poodle, a shining red bicycle, clothes that made him look like a proper gentleman, from a gentler city. you wonder solemnly where he is now, wishing you could share the fortunes you've been shoved into with him. someone who wanted it, deserved it.

deserving... deserving something is odd. whatever makes an individual deserving of something? the hardships they recieve, and the hardships they pass out?

you don’t remember your mother, having gained metaphorical consciousness at the age of six, when your sister started taking care of you instead. you made out from her teary, drunk mumblings that she was an awfully sophisticated woman. she’d colour herself with red blushes and redder lip stains, wear family jewels she refused to sell to her ‘business’ meetings. thin-framed glasses with the eyes of a vixen’s. 

what your sister muttered most about was her many nights away from home. one-sided conversations that plunged a small anchor to your heart, because you knew you were a product of one of them. 

when she was in a bitter mood, your sister never shied away from berating you for your existence. she, unlike you, was born in wedlock. yes, to an unhappy couple, who threw picture frames and cheap souvenirs at each other before splitting up, but she knew her father.

a ridiculously strange thing to hold above one’s head. “i knew my absent father. no one knows yours.” but your depraved heart and dull mind took it so deeply. so, so deeply. 

were those hardships? did you deserve them? others have it worse, right? so do you deserve this? this wealth?

now that you do know your father, you can’t help but resent the idea of knowing. did he know? that he left his child to an unbecoming family and an irresponsible sister? did he know that the guilt of starving your sister to eat yourself made you so incredibly weak-minded at the idea of being full? did he know that you refuse to switch the heater on in the cold, because you don’t know if your old foster siblings got the same luxury? all while the elites of gotham stay in their glasshouses with their rose gardens and wine cupboards.

you can’t put your finger to it. it’s not jealousy, it’s not resentment, it’s not hatred for his absence so far… is it guilt?

you don't know what to do with this abundance of luxury. you’ve lived a lifetime of pet mice from old caretakers, mice that died from the dust that creeped out of cracked floor boards and owls that haunted your window sills. a lifetime of reminiscing about a sobbing woman in your apartment, thinking about all your promises of providing a better life for her, only for her to die in front your eyes. a lifetime of wondering why mommy didn’t come back. why daddy's never there. who daddy even is.

someone else should have it. someone else should have the option to ask the butler for a piece of chocolate pastry at an odd time. to know about their father after countless days of not knowing him. to feel pretty in new dress suits after years of wearing the same two sets of clothes every week.

someone who deserves it more.

your sister.

you miss her.

small events make you change too fast for even your own liking. small things made you so desperately attached to your big sister, small things made you so frightened, so ill, to try to talk to brothers who barely knew you only by your shadow. small things made you tolerate your father more, and mourn the fact you couldn't ever connect to him the way the others did.

small, small things. that troubeled you too much, made you decide it was time to leave. running away from reality in the comfort of your mind when you zone out, is not much different from physically running away, right? troublesome things are not worth the trouble. so you'll run away, and you'll be free. of duties you were never given.

yet another one of gotham’s teenage misfortunes. who leaves a home of riches with a light mind, with the desires of soaring through lost years in gotham like the daftest of pigeons, with no worries or vows. they leave a home of blood and bonds with a heavy heart, lamenting that this time, the choice to leave a permanent, forever family lay on them. they left unspoken conversations unsaid, and imaginary memories within their imagination.

...but, these conversations, these fake memories, become the objects of obsession, for those left behind.

where's the little crow who stalked the corridors, whose naive, cloudy eyes watched from behind walls?

alfred, where's (name)?

INTERACTIONS AND REBLOGS VV APPRECIATED !! incase it was unclear, the sections jump around in the timeline. i did want to leave it to reader interpretation, but since this is the footer, there's no harm in explaining. "you have three brothers..." and "your patterned quilt does little..." are interchangeable within the plot. both are placed after tim's given the mantle of robin, but before jason's re-entry as the red hood. the last part however, is well after both, and damian's entry. anyway you can consider this entry as like, a vague plot summary? there's a lot that happens in between and after, most of the story is about after, but i like setting the ground for this stuff.

once again, if you are interested in the series, do interact! comments, reblogs, etc are so appriciated, to anyone who posts on tumblr! i'll try to get the next entry in soon, but i can't confirm anything!

thank you for reading!!

[ahotmesswithprivilege]

Ocean Eyes

paring: Bob Floyd x female!bartender!reader

wordcount: 2642 (scandalously short for me, I know)

prompt: “It’s like you never really see me. I’m standing right in front of you and you don’t see me!” requested by @gretagerwigsmuse (I am sorry this took so long. I hope it was worth the wait)

note: I couldn't write so I started cleaning up my WIP folder and I found this. I forgot that it was practically done and so I thought, let's share my Bob debut with the world. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): none, I think. Unless you consider canon Hangster one. Also idiots in love.

|| Masterlist ||

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics banner by @firefly-graphics

Reblogs, comments and constructive criticism are always welcome

!!!Minors do not interact; empty/ageless/minors will get blocked!!!

You love Bob Floyd. It’s pretty obvious to anyone who has eyes. At least that’s what you always hear from your best friend and yet he showed never any interest in you at all. There is a part of you that realises that this could only mean one thing but acknowledging the hard truth would hurt more than anything. So you ignore it and keep living in the blissful illusion that maybe one day Lieutenant Robert Floyd will wake up and finally see you.

That is until tonight when that hope should be shattered for good. The night at the Hard Deck when you are dealt the final blow.

“Is that Baby on Board in that booth? Flirting with a woman?”, Hangman is leaning against the bar waiting for you to get a fresh round of drinks ready. The question is directed at Rooster to his right and your gaze follows his and you see Bob sitting in a booth with an absolutely gorgeous redhead.

“Yeah. Phoenix set him up with her old college friend”, Rooster answers, giving you that kind of cautious look that he always sent your way whenever he thought you were in a fragile state and could implode any second. And as if to justify his worries you slam their beers down a little harder than intended and when your gaze meets his, all you see is pity in his pretty brown eyes.

“Rooster”, your voice is barely there, more a growl rumbling in your chest than anything else. It's a warning for your best friend to keep his fucking mouth shut and leave you be.

Not that it would help.

It's something you both love and hate about Bradley Bradshaw. He was not someone who gave up on people. No, he stayed even when shit got hard and you knew he'd be right there by your side through it all, holding your hand and keeping you close because that's just who he is.

And considering the look you get from his worse half, you know the same is true for him. The irony that fucking Jake Seresin would one day be one of your best friends was not lost on you. Especially considering how the two of you started off, but having Hangman cover your back was apparently a perk that came with being Rooster's best friend.

"Don't"

But Brad just lifts his hands in surrender and then they head over to the pool tables where the others are already waiting for them, leaving you behind the bar with the feeling that the shards of your shattered heart were just digging deeper into your flesh with every breath.

“Hey, sunshine”, your head snaps to the side and there you see him sitting at the end of the bar smiling at you the way he always did. The way that made your heart skip a beat and you hated that fucking traitor of an organ. And then your brain intercepts and reminds you of the images of last night. The way she had her hands all over him, turning him into a blushing mess as they stumbled out of the bar.

You have to shake your head or you'd lose focus and you cannot afford that. Not on a Saturday night.

It's not like you need to wait for him to order something, you know it all by heart, so you set his usual virgin drink in front of him and put some nuts in a bowl. Both containers are hitting the bartop a tad bit harder than necessary and before he could get another word in you were already gone.

Your behaviour took him off guard. His eyes are still following you when you already busied yourself with the order of another patron at the other end of the bar as if you wanted to get as much space between you and him as you physically could and he couldn't help the unsettling feeling that crept up on him.

This was so not you. There's a reason why they call you sunshine and that's not just because Rooster introduced you like that. You were always sweet and kind and won over the position of the patron’s favourite from Penny within the first week. You always had a lovely smile on your lips and a nice comment for everyone.

But the thing he had always liked most about you was how protective you were, looking out for the people around you. You were just the kind of person who truly cared and didn't just turn it into a performance.

The longer you are lingering on the other end of the bar without giving him even as much of a glace the more uneasy he becomes ultimately deciding to pick up his things and make his way over to the quiet corner by the pool tables that had been dubbed his even back during his Top Gun time. And from over there he has the perfect view of the bar without the hustle and bustle that would only distract from his actual mission. Figure out what was wrong with you.

You seemed tense and your interactions were colder than usual even with people that he knew you loved to bits.

Dave, one of the veterans who frequented the bar had made it a habit to propose to you whenever he saw you. It was a running gag between the two of you but even he couldn't bring an honest smile to your face.

That sure as hell was a first.

Maybe something happened?

Had someone hurt you?

Or did something happen with your family?

The best way to find out was to talk to Rooster.

He was your best friend after all and if someone knew what was going on, then it would be him.

So, Bob waited patiently until he took a break from the pool game before approaching him.

“Is something wrong with sunshine?”

Rooster arches his brow at the question, stops drinking mid-swig and puts his bottle back down.

“What should be wrong with her?”

Bob tilts his head while he studies the other's features.

He couldn't be serious about that question. Rooster always claimed to know you best of them all and he honest-to-goodness wanted to tell Bob he didn't see what was going on.

“She’s curt and tense. She didn’t even smile at Dave's proposal”

Rooster’s brow arched even more.

God for someone as observant as Robert fucking Floyd he was pretty goddamn blind when it came to you.

“Even if there was something it wouldn't be my story to tell”, he raises his bottle back up and takes a sip of his beer, watching Bob’s mind running  100 miles an hour while he tried to figure out how to proceed.

“If you wanna know what’s going on there is a simple solution”, he prompts him. He had sworn to keep his mouth shut about your feelings for Bob but helping him figure it out on his own was not breaking that promise.

At least not in his book.

“And that would be?”

“Fucking ask her, Baby on board”

Jake groaned over from the pool table and rolled his eyes.

He was so done with this kindergarten bullshit. Watching you and Bob was worse than his dance with Rooster pre-uranium mission and he knew they had been unbearable to watch.

His boyfriend shoots Hangman an angry look as if to remind him of their promise but he just rolls his eyes and sighs.

Hangman likes you, a lot. Some might even go so far as to say he loves you. Very much platonic but it's love nonetheless.

You were a major part of Rooster’s life and therefore you became a fixture in his and if he had to listen to you crying yourself to sleep one more goddamn night over fucking Baby on Board then he’d be the one going on a bloody rampage.

So Jake stalked over to Bob and stared him right in his blue eyes, his green gaze cutting like a knife.

“That wasn’t a suggestion Floyd”, he growled, nodding over to where you handed out drinks at the bar, doing everything within your power to not look their way.

Bob had no idea why the other ganged up on him like that but he couldn’t remember the last time Hangman had been this mad. With his gaze flittering between the two men and you at the bar he decided it was indeed probably smartest to talk to you as soon as possible.

“Can you please get a box of whiskey from storage?”, you barely hear Penny’s voice over the constant chatter of the bar and the music coming from the jukebox when she hands you the key.

You had tried to keep your brain busy all night and lucky for you, the Saturday had provided you with enough to do to grant yourself a small reprieve from the pain that had settled in what was left of your heart after last night.

You nod at Penny and weave through the crowd in front of the bar, attempting to smile at the patrons that greeted you but you knew that this was just a facade and considering the many concerned looks, they knew too.

When you finally got to unlock the door of the storage closet stepping inside and pulling the door closed behind you as you were heaving a sigh the muffled sounds of the bar were still echoing in your ear. You loved this place and the Hard Deck had always felt more like home than the house you shared with Rooster and Hangman. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. The air was stuffy and full of dust but it was the closest to a break you could get just about now.

That was until the sudden creaking of the door made your heart rate pick up.

"This is for staff only", your eyes are wandering around to find something to use as a makeshift weapon just in case one of the guys got so drunk he forgot his manners and basic human decency. You find a large vodka bottle, pick it up from the shelf as you turn around, almost dropping it when you are met with blue eyes.

"Fuck Bob, you scared me", you place your free hand over your heart, putting the Vodka bottle on a small table.

"I'm sorry, sunshine", your eyes wander over him and it's only then that you see how he's not really daring to look into your eyes and he's fidgeting with his hands.

"What are you doing back here Bob?", you are crossing your arms over your chest and take another step back from him, almost making you hit the shelves full of liquor behind you.

He had never seen you so distanced and borderline standoffish around any of the daggers. You were someone who needed to be close, someone who thrived on touch and physical forms of affection, but you were fleeing from him and he couldn't have imagined something as simple as a step back to hurt that bad.

"I... I was wondering...", he started and then you were the third person today looking at him with an arched eyebrow and he felt like a first grader who's supposed to take his SAT.

"What were you wondering?", you said, the tense edge still audible in your voice sent a shiver down his spine.

Bob had never met this cold version of you and he hated every second of it. He loved your warmth, the way you were lighting up even the darkest room. You were the embodiment of a sweet summer day, full of sunshine and blooming flowers with enough of a breeze to make it perfect but right now you rivalled the worst arctic winter.

"Why are you so cold with everyone?"

"I am not"

"Of course you are. You didn't even smile at Dave's proposal", he sees the way your eyes get wider for only a moment before you put that facade back in place. So the real you was hiding somewhere behind that mask you put on.

"Yes I did"

"No, you didn't. Not for real"

The fact he had actually noticed took you by surprise, but the dull ache in your chest reminded you that just because he happened to notice one thing today it didn't mean that anything changed.

The silence hanging between the two of you was deafening and the longer it lasted the more nervous Bob got.

You two had never had an issue with talking. You were probably the one person he always felt like he could talk to even if he didn't feel like interacting with anyone else. But now it felt like you were two ships in the night, drifting farther and farther away apart.

"Please. I just want to...", his voice sounds pleading and the way he reaches his hand out for you prompts you to take another step back. You cannot handle his touch, that much you know but in your desperate attempt to keep the tears from running down your cheeks you forget that you have a mouth too.

“It’s like you never really see me", the words are spilling from your lips before you even realise it, hands flying to your mouth to stop yourself. The tears that were pricking at your lashline before began to run down your cheek when you see the way his eyes widen mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice again.

"There hasn't been a single day when I didn't"

You force your eyes shut to stop the tears from running, shaking your head as you hear him take step after step closer into your space and crowd you against the shelves.

"I don't think I couldn't"

"Then why does it feel like I’m standing right in front of you. and you don’t see me?”, your voice is small and quiet, almost drowned out by the muffled sounds from the bar but once they sink in, Bob's eyes are darting all over your face, trying to figure out what you truly meant.

You open your eyes, tears still glittering as you look up at him. He sees so many emotions swirl in them ranging from pain and fear to something softer. Something he never dared to dream of finding in your eyes when you looked at him. And then he caught your eyes wandering from his to his lips and back up.

It was not much more than a flicker, something easily missed if he had blinked at the wrong moment.

"I always see you, sunshine", his voice is soft as he takes another step closer and leans down, slow and cautious as if he's trying to gauge if he had gotten what you implied right, but you stayed frozen in your place, closing your eyes again until you feel his nose brushing against yours and your foreheads touching.

"And what about last night?", you feel like you are caught up in a dream, fearing the moment your alarm would go off and you'd have to get up and back to a reality where Bob dated someone else and you were damned to only stand there and watch.

"Jolene is nice but all she's ever seen is the uniform and the glasses. She never bothered to really look at me. She didn't see me", he lifts his hands and rests them on your cheeks, thumbs gently caressing your skin as his eyes search yours for any sign that you do not want this.

"Not the way you did when we first met", you feel like you are getting lost in the endless blue of his ocean eyes, warm breath fanning over your face as you lean in to kiss him.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated as always

If you want to read more you can find my masterlist here

[bnyf]

fawn over you ♡

yandere hunter x fawn hybrid reader

warnings : yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, relationship and relationship dynamic

authoress note : first post :3 lowkey inspired by 'my sweet bunny cage' manga and i'm planning on making a bunny hybrid one too

his heart almost imploded and gave out upon sighting such a delicate, dainty fawn such as yourself.

little ole you had him in a rhapsodic trance, him whom's nature greatly differed from hers (you).

he, a mere man who's psychological disturbances causes him to hunt and kill. and you, a lovely creature who now gained the attention of a brute man who's main objective was to capture and claim.

the pattern on your skin like pearls, little dots trailing you. so perfect, almost impossible yet here you were.

it didn't help that by the beautiful white lily of the valley flowers surrounded you, like it was a symbol of how fucking perfect and graceful you are. you were ethereal. an angel or a goddess.

and god, those beautiful glassy orbs peaking his way held nothing but the universe and more in them. so innocent. the epitome of pretty and perfect.

he's sorry you had to meet him of all people, someone who'd ruin and corrupt you but he'd also worship you, others may do much worse to you anyway.

his movements were so still that you'd only notice him due to your instinctive feeling of being watched. your tailed and ears twitched.

you shivered, feeling bare and open to such preying eyes with selfish intent behind them.

his eyes held such a mad and malicious look, as if he were some sort of barbaric mad lad. he looks honcho and quite the opposite of you whom had a much smaller and soft physique.

his whole aura wrecked of death, he is, without a doubt, a true blood lusting predator's, a troubled psychopathy who needed to take his frustrations out on poor, unsuspecting creatures.

with that in mind, and thanks to your nimble agility and speed, you darted off before he could even approach you from the shades of the trees only 10 feet away from you.

he'd only chuckle to himself, engulfed by your beauty and elegance, and more than intrigued by the pretty, little doe-eyed fawn hybrid he just had the pleasure to encounter.

sure. you're quick witted. but being quick only gets you tangled up in a trap quicker.

and with that, his infatuation steadily mounts. he immediately started littering the leafy forest grounds in traps ever since that faithful encounter.

you've taken extra precaution after that day, hiding far away from his cabin and even further from that specific meeting sight.

like a lethal game of hide n seek, you both played your parts. and just like that, you started feeling more unsafe and uneasy knowing that he'd set up traps and cameras, watching your every move, both during the day and night.

sure. he had a life outside of this secluded forest he loves visiting. which is the only thing really giving you time to run and hide.

his work life was distressing as a lawyer, it was a very mentally, emotionally and sometimes psychically taxing line of work.

but that don't mean much considering whenever he got time or a day off, whether late night or not, he'd clear out an entire section of the forest with traps and cameras.

and eventually, you run out of both stamina and luck. you become dreary and tired, exhausted from fearing for your life. and your little stalker becomes impatient.

your little game of cat and mice becomes long over due, and sooner or later, you find yourself injured and trapped in enemy's territory.

it only takes 12 hours for him to finally come off work and whatever other things he may be preoccupied with in his life to come get you.

mean time, you kept your wound clean by licking it, fearing what he'll do to you once he gets there.

and boy oh boy, were you shivering when you'd hear the sound of twigs cracking under heavy boots approaching in the darkness of the light midnight. he's here.

you already cried a lot from the pain and realization of your situation but that didn't stop you from repeating the whole process again.

tears already brimming at your swollen, red eyes. the light from his flashlight becoming brighter as he gets nearer, near enough to shine the light directly at you, in your eyes and blinding you from seeing him.

yet he could quite clearly see you, those teary innocent eyes, your wound. every detail up close right in front of him as you lay right in his trap. looking at you with a sinister smile which you cannot see, leaving you guessing what smug facial expression he must have right now.

he let out a feral, maniac laugh.

"my little fawn, you're finally mine."

you had no where to run or hide anymore. grasping onto what little sanity you have now and praying for whatever great deity above to have mercy upon your innocent soul.

what awaited you next was a life of constant torment. the tears run off your chubby soft cheeks, colliding with your skin and the snot in your runny nose made the whole ordeal pathetic and shameful for you.

but to him? it was such an exquisite show! to him... that disgusting crying face of yours was nothing short of adorable.

he grabbed you away, kidnapping you from your carefree life of freedom. the last thing you felt was a prickling sting on your neck before you were enticed with an unknown sleeping drug that took effect instantly.

all the stress and negative emotions that were building up inside subsided as you were knocked out cold, remembering only his footsteps as he carried you to your new home...

the rest of your days were all a painful blur, you were cared for yes but you'd now have shackles placed on your ankles, a big enough cage and a collar. forced to comply to whatever rules he'd put in place for you. punished when disobeyed those rules. dressed to his liking, feed like a child and forced to learn tricks for his entertainment.

for lack of better words, you've been reduced to a pet.

his pet

your leg wound was still healing, which made escaping difficult. worse yet, his home in the city was large and difficult to navigate, with a built in security system that is literally impossible for anyone to get in or out without permission.

"shhhh don't be so scared, you're safe with me, my little fawn," he'd coax, all while keeping you sedated and locked up. you don't know why but for some reason he'd smell strange but also strangely good at the same time. you'd feel a bit oozy when around him, and inhaling his scent was addictive.

that's because his cologne is laced with pheromones and a special drug to get you addicted off him.

but you didn't know that, and you didn't need to know that. your innocent self blamed yourself for becoming addicted to him. he only smiled and hugged you, because he knows you can't think straight every time he's near.

keep this up and he might just send you into heat a little too early. not! that it's a bad thing for him, not that he wouldn't like that of course.

you hated every bit of this. hated him for making you into his glorified object rather than a living being, a person with thoughts and feelings.

but oooohhhh how he loved every second of it, loved dressing you up in all sorts of cute clothing like some little doll, loved pulling your collar when you misbehaved, and absolutely adored watching you get high off him.

the way your nose twitched, and your little tail sweep from side to side, that look you give him cause you're thinking this is all your fault when it's absolutely not.

[qqueenofhades]

Not that anything's a for sure bet but my read on the general situation re: Harris-Walz is that there's going to be a lot less headwind to fight for Harris specifically as opposed to Clinton because the amazing right wing media hasn't had twenty years for poison to seep into the layperson's thoughts about Clinton's "worthiness"

Well, that and the fact that the MAGA crowd are just really, really bad strategic planners (especially since a solid 75% of their strategy is "lol we'll just cheat and win it that way, we don't need anything else.") They howled for 3.5 years about how Biden was too old to serve and should step down, and then when he did, they had zero plan how to run against Kamala and Trump is now practically begging Biden to magically get back into the race and save him. They ran an anti-Shapiro influence campaign by encouraging the antisemitic online left and planning to exploit the issue among Democrats divided on Israel/Gaza, then furiously melted down when Walz was picked and had no plan to deal with him either. Fascism is a helluva drug, kiddos. Don't try it at home.

The reason Harris has been able to rocket so high is simple, which is that she's channeling Obama 08 energy in more ways than one. Obama also came onto the national political scene four years before (with his speech at the 2004 DNC) and four years later, he was the party's nominee. It didn't even matter that he was a skinny brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama, because people were so tired of the chaos and war and incompetence of Bush Jr that they latched onto a simple message of hope and change and the historical nature of his candidacy felt like an optimistic risk worth taking. Why couldn't it be time for the first African American president? Yes, of course, there was incredible vitriol and we are still dealing with that backlash in some ways now, but still.

As I have said before, Trump is technically not the incumbent, but the last 8 years have been dominated by his hatred, chaos, division, rage, and treason in a way even Bush could never quite manage, and when people get to that point, there's a lot of coiled-up energy that has at last come bursting out. We needed Biden's old-moderate-white-man cred to defeat Trump as the sitting president in 2020, when most of his worst scandals hadn't even happened yet, but this is not 2020 (or 2016) and the dynamic is different. We are now on offense and playing to win, people have readily and eagerly embraced the absolute god tier karma that would come from a black female prosecutor finally ending the Orange Menace's reign of terror once and for all, and the Republicans are spitting smoke and spinning gears running frantically through their usual tired old stupid cliche attacks. GAY TRANS EVIL BIRTHERISM SWIFTBOAT FOREIGN FAR LEFT COMMIE LIBERAL HEATHEN!! they scream desperately, trying to find something that sticks. Except this time, no matter how hard the corporate media tries to help them out, nobody is listening. Nobody is buying it. We know exactly what BS they're trying and we're just shrugging and going "Yeah, no. Weird."

It absolutely helps that Kamala is not dragging the ball and chain of 20 years of Republican smear attacks, yes. But there are a lot of reasons why the GOP is imploding before our eyes and it's probably now more statistically likely that there is a blue tsunami than it is that Trump wins. I still cannot, CANNOT, believe it has been barely three fucking weeks. If this is a dream don't want to wake up, etc. Let me goddamn stay in this timeline just a little longer. And if we do the work, we can in fact make it that way, and Yeah. Yeah.

[farlynthordens]

Pillowfort vs Wafrn Comparison

hello to fellow tumblypoos who may be on the lookout for places to migrate in case tumblr does implode one day but don't know what the alternatives are like. i made accounts on 2 frequently mentioned tumblr clones, pillowfort and wafrn, and tested them as of April 2025. i hope this can be helpful!

SIGNING UP

Pillowfort: sign up free and be put on a waitlist, or pay $5 for instant access. The waitlist time was very short for me. Once you have your account, you get 50 invite links per week that you can send to others for instant signup access.

Wafrn: mods review every signup, but i still got access within a couple hours.

VIBES

Just my own personal observations from a very short period of use

Pillowfort: has a more "cozy and quiet" fandom and media-sharing vibe. it emphasizes using communities when you sign up (but you don't have to join any if you don't want to). most communities that currently exist are either super huge general ones (ex: "Anime") or tiny ones people made for their own friend group but i see potential for fandom-specific spaces to grow.

Wafrn: more unabashedly queer and chaotic (positive) like if you were in a discord server but on tumblr. it's more techy and text post/chatting focused but still has huge media-sharing capabilities. you can host your own server if you know how to. it's recommended you connect your acct to bsky if you want more fandom stuff (or consider a fandom-oriented server elsewhere, tho from what i can tell those don't have a lot of users yet)

MEDIA

Both do not allow multi-select, meaning that you have to upload files one at a time. both allow putting a shitload of images in one post (i didn't even have the patience to upload enough pics to find the limits). but i recommend against mass uploading media. those are individual ppl hosting those servers. consider paying them if you plan to upload a lot.

Pillowfort: only images/gifs, videos must be hosted externally. files must each be less than 2MB. adding additional images is a little janky and sometimes the buttons pop in/out.

Wafrn: video and images/gifs. not sure what the exact file size limit is, but i was able to upload a video that was 145MB so its decently big. media is horizontally scrolled rather than vertically stacked. also note: alt text is required by default, and the "post" button will disappear if any media is missing it.

POSTS

Pillowfort: allows turning off reblogs and comments. you can edit this at any time. seemingly no feature/option to truncate long posts you see on your dash? but i haven't come across any super long posts so maybe it's there. but there is a "read more" feature.

Wafrn: you can turn off notifications for a post, but there is no option to turn off reblogs/comments which i personally find to be a big downside. posts longer than a few sentences automatically get truncated.

LIKES, REBLOGS, COMMENTS, TAGS

Both platforms have likes, comments, reblog systems, and tagging.

Both platforms don't have a page to find all of your Likes. Likes are persistent, and you'll see the colored heart icon if something you liked before crosses your dash, but there is no dedicated Likes page from what i could find.

Reblogging works different on Wafrn, where you have 3 options: rewoot (=quick reblog with no tags), reply (=standard reblog where you have the OPTION to add your own reply and/or tags), and quote (seems to be similar to doing a quote tweet, can also add tags).

If you connect Wafrn to bsky, you can see more posts from there within the site but certain types of interactions don't work.

On Pillowfort, tagging works basically the same as it does on tumblr (can search tags site-wide or on your particular blog). on Wafrn you can currently only do site-wide tag searching, so you're not able to organize your blog if you're into that.

NSFW

Both sites allow NSFW content.

Pillowfort: new post > select checkbox to mark as NSFW (so users with "Show NSFW posts by default" turned off will see the post blurred)

Wafrn: new post > upload media, and then you can mark individual media as NSFW to blur it. Also a content warning checkbox you can select to add in cw tags (must write the tags yourself which leaves room for user inconsistency. there is no preset cw list yet)

DRAFTS, QUEUE

Pillowfort: has a draft, queue, and scheduling system. your queue schedule is editable from settings or the queue page. the queue and draft pages are underneath "Posts", but only show up when there are things in them.

Wafrn: no draft or queue system.

POST VISIBILITY

Pillowfort: in every new post, you can select if the post is public, only for logged in users, only mutuals, or private (only you). you can edit this at any time.

Wafrn: in every new post, you can select if the post is public, only for your followers, only for your server instance, or private (only you). this is not editable once a post is made

BLOG VISIBILITY

Pillowfort: in settings, you can turn on concealed mode which prevents people you're not following from following you or even viewing your blog.

Wafrn: there doesn't seem to be a way to hide your blog profile from certain users/logged out users, but you can change your default post visibility.

ASKS

Pillowfort: Does not have an Ask system, only DMs. Creating an ask system is on their to-do list.

Wafrn: has an Ask system that accepts messages from Wafrn users, logged out anons, or even other fediverse sites (there's a explanation how to do this if you go to someone's profile and try sending a message). you must go to settings to enable anon asks.

FOLLOWING

Pillowfort: by default, anyone can follow anyone. in settings, you can turn on concealed mode which prevents people you're not following from following you or even viewing your blog.

Wafrn: by default, anyone can follow anyone. in settings, you can turn on the ability to review all follow requests.

CUSTOMIZATION

Pillowfort: Dark and light mode for the whole site. blog editing is pretty basic, just changing colors of some page elements (with a little jank). in settings, you can upload multiple icons which you can swap between when making new posts. there are a bunch of pfp frames and badges.

Wafrn: Dark and light mode, plus many other preset themes. blog page editing allows for header images and custom css. you can have emojis (including animated ones) in your name.

MISC

Mobile: both have a mobile app, but Wafrn's is still a bit more experimental. both contain many bugs but when has that not been the case for tungle dot com either

Paid features: Both are free*. Wafrn has no paid features but dev has a patreon/kofi you can support to pay for servers costs. Pillowfort has options for paid icons or frames, higher file size limits (2MB->4MB), or doing a recurring monthly donation to pay server costs and seems to really need the help.

Sideblog support: neither has this yet but both seem to be exploring options for it. you cannot make more than 1 account with the same email.

Blacklist/blocking: both support blacklisting words/phrases and blocking users. Wafrn also supports muting (soft blocking), Pillowfort does not but it's on their to-do list.

Languages: both are only in english

Bugs and future updates: If you want to read more about what features each platform is working on you can check Pillowfort's staff post and Wafrn's github

--------

conclusion: no matter where you choose to migrate to, nothing will be exactly the same as tumblr and will certainly never reach its scale/longevity without consistent user support.

if we want the next gen of the internet to be free of advertising and selling user data, then we will all need to chip in for it. either you pay for your own server to host yourself/others, or you support the people/orgs hosting servers for the rest of us to make sure that the things you love can remain online. i HIGHLY recommend that if you move to any of these places, you consider doing recurring donations. this goes for not just pillowfort and wafrn, but mastodon, neocities, or any other fedi or independently hosted spaces.

fedi sites have a lot of potential, because you can theoretically CREATE a massive social network via connecting lots of little ones together. but interconnecting independent sites is still something that's very buggy and needs working out, and from what i can tell, just because sites are part of the fediverse does not make them instantly compatible/crosspost-able (ppl more experienced can correct me on this)

[jd-loves-fiction]

Hey there! I might have an oddly specific request, but like. I am craving a trope but I am too lazy to write anything myself. Feel free to not accept this :"D

Could you write maybe like a *micro* oneshot about Boothill finding his past lover (from before his planet got nuked), but here's the thing, the lover did an ftm transition, so Boothill may have not realised at first.

And secondly, there is a child. Boothill's, but he had no idea.

The circumstances under what they reconnect is up to you. Wether it's fluff or angst, also.

Thank you in advance, cool writer person!<3

🌑felt that first part😭 ALSO this idea is so good rAAAH I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT IIITT (idk if this sucks but i hope i did this wonderful idea justice my dear, i poured all my love into this ❤️)

ALSO ALSO listened to 'Would you fall in love with me again' on loop writing this cuz the vibes are immaculate :)

Warnings: Spoilers for Boothill's backstory, mention of reader pre-transition as 'her' once but by male descriptors everwhere else, I have no experience writing ftm reader's so forgive my ignorance and let me know if I did good if you can 🥺

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠

The saloon is lively, crowded, not Boothill’s usual scene but fate or whatever sorry god is in charge of his path brought him here. His mission is complete and he’s exhausted – so out drinking he goes, even though he can barely feel the drink’s effects anymore. He supposes it must be the principle of the thing, a sort of tradition that helps him not lose his mind along the way.

Boothill scans the room by instinct, seeing dancing couples fill the entire room up to the corners – some slowly, some so fast it’s as if the universe is about to implode. A flash of a memory stings at the back of his brain, but he ignores it.

“Uhm! Mister!” Chirps a high pitched voice from below, clearly directed at himself. Looking down he spots a chubby-faced little girl, at which he raises a brow. Why a girl her age would ever think to approach him of all people in the saloon, he cannot imagine.

“Can you help me up, please? I wanna ask for some water,” she asks, polite but determined.

“Oh, well of course little lady!” He responds, gently holding her up and placing her onto the stool, once the cloud of nostalgia is gone from before his eyes. She just looks so familiar… The particular shade of brown of her eyes–

“Thank you mister!” The girl says brightly, sitting all cute and proper as Boothill waves the barkeep over, “It’s no trouble. Whatcha doin’ here, anyway? Y’ain’t alone, right?”

“Oh no mister, I’m here with my papa!” She replies cheerfully, pointing to the center of the room where the most people gather. Between swaying bodies he finds who she points at – twirling a giggling old lady is who Boothill suspects is the girl’s ‘papa’.

The cyborg cowboy no longer has a heart, nor a chest really, but it feels as if it stops in that moment. You don't spot him yet, lost as you are in your own little world, twirling around as sweat builds at your hairline.

But to Boothill everyone else fades as the pieces click into place – a grassfield beneath a starry sky, the love of his life before him, his flesh and bone hands around her blushing face… your face… no matter how you’ve changed, it’s you, he’d recognize you anywhere.

He must be seeing ghosts, surely. The girl’s father must just look like you, that’s it, it has to be, you’re dead… you have to be.

But Boothill knows in his soul that it is. You’re right there, dancing without a care in the world, changed and yet the same.

“Mister?” The little girl to him again, grasping at one of his sleeves and he turns. Her eyes, that particular shade of brown… it’s his, from when he was still flesh and blood. His head hurts. He feels drunk and crazy, maybe he should stop drinking after missions.

“There you are! You should’ve told me you wanted to rest,” You lightheartedly tell the girl, panting as you wipe sweat from your brow. From this close he’s sure it’s you, but Boothill still feels a little crazy for his thoughts. “Made a friend–?!”

The moment your eyes meet his, Boothill is finally sure it’s you. And he can tell you remember him too. Both of you seem stuck in time, gazing at each other like you’ve seen a ghost, which maybe you have, all things considered. The both of you should be dead.

Your mouth opens to speak but no words come out and you’re aching for a glass of water of your own. He’s here, alive and…

“You’ve… changed.” Boothill says lamely – so many things he wants to say, things he should’ve said long ago, things he would’ve said if he knew you were alive all this time.

“S-So have you!” Your voice cracks as you gawk at him, “You’re all… metal?”

Boothill chuckles, nerves eased by the familiarity that settles over the two of you – seems you haven't changed where it counts. “Yeah… it’s a long story.”

“Well, all I have is time.” He can tell you’re still upset with him, perhaps you will be for a while– heck! He’s upset with himself! He should’ve gone back for you, checked, double checked, triple checked!

“Just tell me one thing first;” The cyborg asks, watching as the girl sprints off towards who he assumes is a friend of hers, “Is she…” he points at himself.

“... Yeah. Her name’s Julia.” You tell him, sitting where she was, shoulders still tense as you watch him closely. He’s still as handsome as always, more rugged perhaps, more tired and grim, but the sight of his face still makes your heart stutter with affection. 

Boothill sighs heavily at the information, like the air’s been punched from his lungs, slumping over the bar and covering his eyes. You, alone as your planet burned while he went off to punish the ones who did it, was a heartbreaking enough picture to paint, but with a child? His child?

If they hadn't taken his tear ducts, he’d be filling the saloon up to the ceiling with his tears.

“Hey now, you can cry about it later, ok?” You say awkwardly, knowing you might start crying too if he does. 

He does as you ask, finally raising his head to look at you properly. You’re as beautiful as he remembers, of course you are. You could never stop looking so unfairly stunning to him, never.

Squirming in place as his cybernetic lock onto you, you feel the need to fill the empty space between you – as much as you wish to act like nothing had changed, a lot had, “How did you… recognize me?”

He finds it to be an odd question, of course he’d recognize you, yours is the only face he seems when he closes his eyes, haunting the few dreams he does have like a siren’s song beckoning him to linger within the memories of a better life before he became what he is now, “Y’haven’t changed that much.”

You blink at him, suddenly self-conscious, “... haven't I?”

Oh no, you look upset. He should’ve just said what he was thinking instead of whatever that was, “I– I didn't mean it like– I mean, you look great! Fudge I–”

You’re laughing, open and bright and lovely. Laughing at him no doubt, but laughing, “W-what– why do you– Fudge?”

“Ah, well, that’s part of that long story I told ya’bout.” He replies bashfully, because yeah, it would be strange to hear that coming out of his mouth to you.

Catching your breath and wiping the tears from your eyes, you smile fondly at the cowboy, “Sounds to me like we have some catching up to do.”

The farm boy in him wishes still that nothing had changed, that he could wake up from his dream and lay in the field beneath the stars again, hold you against his warm chest like always and have no IPC blood caked under his metaphorical nails, only dirt and sand from a hard day’s work. But the galaxy ranger he is now likes it better this way – change is inevitable and all things considered, this is one of the more fortunate outcomes of your story. 

You’ve both changed, but not where really it counts.

“That we do, sweetheart.”

[alle-ni]

My thoughts about goodomensverse (I'm clinically insane) (my personal opinion) (long post)

Book Crowley:

- absolute disaster

- lonely boy

- grumpiest

- he's so in love with Aziraphale but didn't even realised yet

- a bit dumb sometimes ngl

- very tired

- he's trying so hard save earth and everything he knows but everytime he tries to explain why it's always AZIRAPHALE

- sometimes he's like... your old gay uncle, the old gay uncle of the family except it's a 6000 years old gender fluid demon

- HISS LIKE A SNAKE GANG

- got called dear once and them died (figuratively)

Radio Crowley:

- flirty

- "Humm have you ever seen me in a dress~~??"

- he's like flirting with Aziraphale 24/7

- 0 patience this man is a BOMB

- if Aziraphale ever EVER got slightly flirty with him back he will EXPLODE

- smartest of them all, he's very intelligent

- HISS LIKE A SSSSSNAKE GANG

- he's so in love with Aziraphale and it makes him SO FRUSTRATED

- his Aziraphale is the hardest one to reach, maybe this is why he's so deliberately obvious and direct with him (he's resilient, he will never give up)

- he's like a tsudere teenager collegial except he's a 6000 years old demon with serious issues

- not called dear yet poor soul </3

TV Crowley:

- SILLY

- he's the dumbest of them all, sorry 😭

- red hair

- he's so in love with Aziraphale and everyone notice it's SO OBVIOUS

- he's the most affected by The Bookshop Burning ™ event

- the only one who got to kiss the angel, good for him ig, or sorry, idk

- anxiety bomb he literally (literally) EXPLODE

- strongest soldier bc his Aziraphale is IMPOSSIBLE

- got dumped 2 times more than the others someone pls help him

- the most brave tho

- doesn't hiss a lot :/ free him from this madness let him hiss

- he's like a puppy with giant yellow eyes except it's a 6000 years old snake demon that lies all the time

- protective as hell this man wouldn't let anyone near Aziraphale if possible

- got called dear but at what cost??????????????

Book Aziraphale:

- Anxious all the time, religious trauma except the god is your father and he left you and never talk to you again and the guard angels are your siblings and they want you do be dead

- He's so soft he wants so bad to comfort Crowley but he's really hard to reach

- his Crowley is the most difficult of all of them, he needs to circle him a lot to get in touch

- this man got called names so often I don't think he even cares anymore

- he's very nerdy

- he's the calmest of them all

- really chill

- everyone is so mean to him for no reason

- he has 1 braincell tbh and it's really bad bc his Crowley is not that brilliant too they're both stupid sometimes

- he really REALLY wants to be with Crowley and Crowley only, he sounds almost obligated to be with heaven

- he is really kind to others even when they don't deserve

- he called Crowley dear once and then implode

Radio Aziraphale:

- full of himself

- bastard

- the most closed and oblivious of them all

- he tries to play cool with Crowley all the time (he's slowly getting insane and someday he will jump on this man)

- he's the most self sufficient one he barely holds on Crowley to anything and they're pretty independent

- Crowley can say shit like "Miss me angel~~??" and he would keep a bored face and not react at all (he screamed with the walls 4 hours later)

- he's also a tsudere collegial but he at least try to look cool and composed in public

- he's the Aziraphale that most believes in heaven, he's sure they are good and selfless and the right side

- he's not so brilliant tbh but he got a lot of spirit

- the most active Aziraphale ?? He really put his hand in the dirt and do the things alone

- the most angry and bad tempered of them all, bro scream "WE ARE CLOSED LOOK AT THE DAMN SIGN" when ppl barely touch the bookshop door

- he has a lot of patience with Crowley, not deserved tbh bc he thinks it's his personal job to get in Aziraphale's nerves

- overall he is polite

- he's really proud of their "arrangement" there not only one chance he let go without saying that

- he likes to provoke Crowley sometimes too but not as much as the other way around

- if he ever call Crowley dear he will explode

TV Aziraphale:

- bitchiest

- this man need to be sedated what the fuck Aziraphale

- most nuts of then all he's CRAZY

- he's the most up to do shit with Crowley they're insane together

- he doesn't let Crowley rest he is flirting and being cute and hitting on Crowley all the time

- he's so obviously in love with Crowley its embarrassing

- he's the fruitiest he's the entire salad

- the most... indulgent, if I can say, of them all

- more like an employer of heaven, different of book Aziraphale

- he's the only one with almost white hair

- he got kissed but at what cost

- he's the most intelligent of all of them how can he be this dumb

- he loves little things about earth and humans and life and he seems to be the Aziraphale that most love EARTH itself, like, the life, the humans, the food, the little pleasures we have, the little time of happiness we have between all the shit that is happening... he really loves humans <3

- he's conflicted about heaven, he seems to know that there's something WRONG with how heaven works but still doesn't understand what exactly it is

- "oh but saving me makes him soooo happyyyy~~~"

- overall kind and sweet, in a excited way

[bethanythebogwitch]

If you asked me as a kid what my favorite animal was, there's a good chance I'd respond "chambered nautilus", though I probably would mispronounce it. I don't know if it's still my favorite but it's definitely up there in the pantheon of weird critters. For this Wet Beast Wednesday, I'll discuss my childhood favorite.

(image: a nautilus)

The nautilus is a cephalopod that lives in a curved shell and looks similar to (but is not closely related to) the extinct ammonites. There are 6 living species in two genera, but 90% of the time when someone is discussing nautiluses they are referring to the most well-known species: Nautilus pompilius or the chambered nautilus. Nautiloids are ancient, going back to at least the late triassic with their more primitive ancestors going back as far as the ordovician period, a time when only invertebrates and primitive plants occupied the land and true fish had not yet appeared. Because of their ancient history, nautiluses are sometimes considered living fossils. I have ranted before on how misleading the term "living fossil" is so I'll spare you that for now. Nautiloids are considered a sister group to the celoids, which contains all the squid, octopus, cuttlefish, and everything else we thinks of as cephalopods. Nautiluses should not be confused with paper nautiluses. Also called argonauts, paper nautiluses are a group of octopi that make an egg case which looks like a shell.

(image: a nautilus)

The most noticeable feature of a nautilus is its shell. The shell is smooth and finely curving, naturally growing in the shape of a logarithmic spiral (though not, as is commonly stated, a golden ratio spiral). The shell has a stripy outer layer and an inner layer coated with nacre. Internally, the shell is divided into camarae (chambers) separated from each other by walls called septa. Each septum has a small hole in it through which a strand of tissue called the siphuncle passes. Most of the nautilus's body is in the foremost and largest chamber. The shell grows new septa as the animal grows, with the nautilus's body moving to a new chamber as it becomes too large for previous ones. Juveniles are typically born with 4 septa, with adults having as many as 30. In addition to providing protection from predators, the shell is also key for regulating buoyancy. The septa can contain pressurized gas or water and the siphuncle regulates their contents by either adding or removing water to increase or decrease buoyancy. Because of its pressurized contents, the shell can only withstand pressure at depths up to 800 M (2,400 ft) before imploding. Oddly enough, nautiluses can be safely brought up from deep waters where most animals would be killed by the pressure changes. To move, the nautilus pulls water into the first chamber of the shell using its hyponome (siphon) and shoots it back out. The chambered nautilus is the largest species, with a maximum shell diameter of 25 cm (10 in), though most get no larger than 20 cm (8 in).

(image: a diagram of nautilus anatomy. source)

Where celoid cephalopods have tentacles, nautiluses instead have numerous cirri. Unlike tentacles, cirri are less muscular, are not elastic, and have no suckers. They are used to grab objects using their ridged surfaces and can hold in so hard that trying to take an object away from a nautilus can rip off its cirri, which will remain firmly attached. In addition, the nautilus has modified cirri that serve as olfactory receptors and a pair that serve to open and close the shell when the nautilus needs to retract into it or emerge. Nestled within the cirri is the beak, which is used to consume the nautilus's primary prey of invertebrates, though they have also been seen scavenging fish. Their eyes are less developed than most cephalopods, lacking a lens and consisting of a small pinhole that only allows the nautilus to see simple imagery. Their brains are differently structured than most cephalopods and studies have found them to have considerably shorter long-term memories.

(image: a chambered nautilus (upper left) next to a rare Allonautilus scrobiculatus. source)

Cephalopod reproduction is quite different than that of other cephalopods. While most cephalopods are short-lived and semelparous (reproducing only once), nautiluses can live over 20 years and reproduce multiple times (iteroparity). They do not reach sexual maturity until around 15 years old, with females laying eggs once per year. Eggs are attached to rocks and take 8 to 12 months to hatch. Males have a structure called the spadix composed of 4 fused cirri that they use to transfer sperm to females. Females lose their gonads after laying their eggs and will regenerate them for the next year's mating season. Interestingly, male nautiluses seem to vastly outnumber the females. EDIT: @bri-the-nautilus in the replies found an alternate explanation for the disparity in male and female numbers you should check out. TLDR; the females are asocial.

(image: nautiluses mating)

Nautiluses are found in the Indo-Pacific reagion of the ocean and can be found on the steep slopes of coral reefs. They prefer to inhabit waters several hundred meters down. It was once believed that they would rise to shallow waters at night to feed, lay eggs, and mate, but their vertical migration behavior has since been shown to be more complex than that. They have noon been fished by humans for their shells, which have become popular subjects in art and can be made into a number of decorative pieces. The nacre of the shell can be polished into osmeña pearl, which can be quite valuable. Demand for the shells combined with the late sexual maturity and low fecundity is threatening all the species. As of 2016, nautiluses have been added to the CITES Appendix II, making them protected by limiting international trade of their shells. Despite this, they are still threatened and require further protection

(image: a carved and painted nautilus shell from the Poldi Pezzoli Museum, Milan)

[sabrondabrainrot]

Just finished "Dark Sun CONFRONTS SUN in VRchat" SO

it's late and I need to go to bed for the weekend plans but I HAVE TO WRITE THIS I think D!Sun isn't doing this for OUR SUN I think he's doing things for the CONCEPT of Sun. He just showed Sun all the worlds where Sun dies, mostly because of Moon.

I usually don't believe what villains say, but here's the thing. This is Sun to Sun. D!Sun is one of those villain's who won't share all the things he wants to do. He trickles out just enough to raise more questions but never give anything of importance away.

Neptor, in the last episode I just finished, did implode. He warned Neptor that is what would happen. He didn't lie to Neptor. He hasn't lied about Nexus. He still sees Nexus as a Moon but hasn't lied about any of his actions. Nexus has done all the things D!Sun warned Sun and Moon about.

So I'm taking what he says to Sun as the truth. I think he's telling Sun this information because it's the most opportune time. He told Sun all the things he CAN do. He fully believes Sun can kill his baby dragon WitherStorm.

He told Sun that he is capable.

D!Sun wants Sun to gain his own independence because I think D!Sun sees our Sun as his HOPE.

Dark Sun wants to SAVE all Suns. He wants to save the future ones from dying. Not just from Moon's (that's the main reason though) but also from other things.

We haven't heard of a Sun council, but I think what we're witnessing in the show is the lead up to one being finally formed.

It's canon in the show that Eclipse's tried to work together and ultimately fail.

I don't remember if Moon's were ever stated to try to make councils but it seems most go crazy beyond the point of return far too soon to form one.

Creator is the only person who made a working council and that's due to their own shared delusions. They, however, did not have strength in numbers due to their own shortcomings and egos. They thought they could be uncontested while they 'researched' WitherStorms.

Ruin, a singular amalgam, killed off the entire Creator council in one fell swoop.

ANYWAYS

I think that D!Sun wants to make a council with our Sun, because he's been watching their dimension for a long time. I think he was watching since before Moon even reset and created N!Moon.

I made a silly haha joke about the council of Suns a few weeks ago but now I'm actually seeing character motivation and proof on it.

D!Sun is a villain who's not really done villainous stuff...he's been a schemer and he can't be trusted...but he's not done anything horribly evil yet (besides Neptor, that was so sad, but compared to literally everyone else in the show he did the same thing that Old Moon did to that one Moon robot he built that went rogue in one day. Old Moon blowing that bot up was treated for laughs but what D!Sun did was treated serious, food for thought). He does cherry pick what information he gives but the strange thing is, he hasn't lied. Not once. Early on he flat out told Eclipse and Ruin what he was going to do to them when he put something in their heads. He just didn't tell them what it was. He also grabbed N!Moon and told him he'd scan his head and he did just that, then sent him home. We know he also took a chance to secretly move his dimension and save it during Ruin's revenge scheme. (It's unclear if Ruin's statement that 'Dark Sun killed another Dimension' is valid or not)

I think D!Sun picked N!Moon as the catalyst to making our Sun independent from all Moons.

Nexus is a Moon who started off completely differently from any other Moon. As far as Nexus was aware they were never merged, they never had to fight for dominance. He had the ever present shadow of Old Moon....but that's it.

He got to be a gentle sweet and loving brother to Sun and the rest of his growing family. He wasn't perfect, but with time he would have been a great family member. It was growing to be that way.

I think D!Sun was waiting and hoping Nexus would also go crazy. Like every other Moon he's ever watched. He called him 'a dead one'. We have no privy to how other reset Moons are. The chances are they all are doomed by their own narrative to kill their Sun or just go insane.

While he didn't cause Nexus' to go crazy...he was fully banking on it to happen.

After all, Sun is willing to forgive Old Moon for hurting him over and over because he can excuse it away. "Moon was trapped in my head so it is justifiable why he was mad and lashing out." "Moon had the kill code so it makes sense why he hurt me and flew into blind murderous rage." "I call Moon brother and that means something to me." Sun has always found SOME WAY to justify why he should forgive Old Moon. It's his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.

D!Sun I think wants to show our Sun that forgiveness can run out. There's also the added bonus N!Moon/Nexus promised to never hurt Sun or be like Old Moon.

He broke that promise.

This is also D!Sun's evidence that Moons are going to always be 'evil' or in the wrong.

D!Sun is also studying things that were thought to be impossible. He's taming WitherStorms and learning how to communicate with them. He's figured out how to make multidimensional star energy work. He's done the impossible over and over. He, like our Sun, has the uncanny ability to affect and change fate.

My entire theory is just this, I think D!Sun is trying to rewrite the universal fate of all Sun's and he's starting with ours. The one we know, because he hopes that he can break other Sun's free.

Free from Moons. Free from suffering. Free from death.

He states he just "wants to be left alone." but he's ALWAYS interfering. Even visiting Puppet's original world to go to the grave-site of the Sun and Moon that tore themselves apart.

D!Sun can't sit by because he knows too much. He knows too much on the suffering that occurs to every innocent Sun out there. He's still a Sun. He's just the Sun that loves other Suns.

It explains so much. It explains why he's bothering to do any of this. Explains why he went and killed Lord Eclipse/witness his downfall personally. It explains why he told Puppet to not hesitate with BloodMoon (the entity that's tortured Sun from day 1 with the July incident). It also explains why he's kind to Earth and Lunar, even joking with them while subtly hinting how to catch Goliath. Explains why he kissed Sun on the mo-

I mean....

Anyways that's my late night rambles typed this up 30 mins before bed hope it's coherent. I couldn't sleep unless I wrote this down. That was such a good episode.

I also want to go in to how D!Sun is super wrong and I think Nexus is going to subvert the expectation by snapping out of it but idk about that one. I have to wait and see. I would want nothing more then for D!Sun to be wrong about all Moons.

[virginiaisforvampires]

Hey V!

I've had a question bouncing around in my head, and since you've been a longtime fan of The Vampire Chronicles—long before I discovered the full depth of the series—I figured you'd be the perfect person to ask. What do you think has been the biggest shift in fan dynamics since the premiere of the AMC series, especially with the changes it introduced? Have there always been Lestat haters? Louis haters? Or has the show—and the specific ways it changed the characters—changed the way people engage with it? For example, I think aging up Armand and Claudia was a necessary change. There's just no way that would have worked if was changed at 17 and i don't know how they would have made it work if Claudia was still 5 years old. I also understand why they changed Louis’s time period and profession—no one wants to sympathize with a slave owner, and some people even struggle with him being a brothel owner. On the other hand, I think the show absolutely fucked it by making Lestat more physically abusive toward Louis. You’ve talked about that before, and I agree—totally the wrong move. So, i guess my real question is: Was the fandom always this intense and divided, or has the show polarized it more than before? Was there even a fandom this vocal and engaged before AMC adapted it?

😬😬😬😬😬

The old school fandom.....kept to ourselves. It was chill. We were just vibing. People understood this material and understood these characters. It was truly the gothic vampire story.

The show is 100% responsible for turning the fandom into the cesspool it's become. It did radicalize it and polarize it and divide it in ways that never existed before the show.....but actually that's not even the full extent of it, because the fandom was still good even with the show.

No, the change truly happened with 1x05. That's when the fandom imploded on itself. Many old school fans left after that, because they saw the damage that episode did and what a slap in the face it was to Lestat's character. That's when everything shifted into hating Lestat and Louis the poor innocent victim, which fair enough. I've talked before about how I didn't want Lestat anywhere near Louis ever again after I'd seen that mess.

That's also when everything shifted into the OOC human AU morality bullshit, because people suddenly believed this show was something other than what it actually was, and that's also why they're having such a hard time understanding why the show is now shifting into Lestat's story.

So yeah, in a nutshell, that's what made the fandom into what it is. I don't have to go into all that yet again, because you know as well as I do all the issues that episode caused and continues to cause.

I am not being hyperbolic when I say it was the absolute WORST mistake the show could've ever made and then when Hannah started trying to brush off the backlash and justify it and when those dumbass "experts" on the AMC podcast started talking out of their ass about Loumand being the new "healthy" couple? Hoooo boy the fandom imploded yet again, and it's just been an out-of-control snowball of chaos ever since.

[meskit]

asks you about their dynamic (builderman and 1x1)

smiles at you so big and wide in a non-threatening way

before i get into it i feel it's important to dip into my interpretations of them both.

1x1 is canonically the embodiment of hatred, malice, and negativity. we all know this. i kind of took her a step further and made it so that he is the embodiment of whatever emotions they can feed on. it just so happens that the ones she fed on the most upon creation was telamon's (and eventually shedletsky's) hatred and ire. because of this, in forsaken, he kind of is always passively feeding on everyones emotions (usually fear and frustration). having this constant source of sustenance is what allows them to remain corporeal

builderman is viewed as a very level-headed and laid-back leader. he holds everything together behind the scenes and makes sure that things can run without a hitch. i think that pre-being forsaken he held a lot of pent-up emotions about how he never got recognized for all his hard work on the back end, at least not to the degree the others did. this carried over into forsaken, and has started to fester and eat at him. he's very angry at the world but has a persona to upkeep so he never gets the opportunity to really deal with decades worth of frustration and anger.

ultimately, theyre not good for each other, but theyre "happy" (they think theyre happy. they don't really know what that is though). there's a lot of major imbalances in the way they interact with each other, and they wouldn't necessarily be romantically involved or whatever, considering... everything really.

i'm going to copy and paste a huge chunk of what i yapped about to my friends yesterday here :]

- 🦷 -

i think 1x would be drawn to builderman because of this. initially in a "you can get me closer to my goal of tearing shedletsky down, of ripping this world asunder with my teeth for what he made me. you will be my pawn, my bargaining chip. you will be my vessel for finally being free." way. builderman is drawn to 1x because the deep, simmering fury within him over everything-- always being second to telamon and eventually shedletsky, never being known for his work and achievements, always having to be the one to make sure things run smoothly and being blamed the one time something is out of his control... being forsaken and having lost everything he has tried so hard to maintain while having to pretend that he is still capable-- seems to ebb away the more he's around 1x. he doesnt know that its because 1x is literally absorbing it until later

obviously i think the dynamic could go in many ways over time. none of them would necessarily be . healthy? but i do think that 1x would kind of become parasocial with builderman LOL. i think 1x would play into the knowledge that builderman is always one wrong word away from imploding and going scorched earth on everyone, so they would DEFINITELY play into buildermans wants to fester the hatred with the other survivors . kind of in the-

"you fight so long, so hard, just to be tossed to the side. you let yourself be outshined, for *nothing.* none of them deserve the praise they get, not when you're the key to their success every time."

- way

and i think, regardless of the intent, builderman would come to also be a little parasocial with 1x in return. but i dont *quite* have the dynamic i have in mind down yet

arguably you would think 1x is getting like. a lot out of this dynamic but i think builderman technically is getting more out of it than her.

even though he's being very blatantly manipulated, i don't think he'd really care? no matter how genuine 1x is being, it is still some of the only acknowledgment for his work that he's received in a long time. the only acknowledgment of how much blood, sweat, and tears he's poured into making sure the team doesn't fall apart. it is the most emotional fulfillment he's potentially ever had since building up robloxia. and it makes him feel wanted, seen, and in some twisted way loved. i mean, in order to notice just how much time and effort he's put in, to such an extent as 1x, that has to be love, right? not that he'd know. all of his time is spent making sure the cogs in the machine run smoothly.

1x gets the fulfillment of having a steady source to feed on, of having someone who's lost his way to meld into something more suitable for their needs and goals. builderman gets the ache of his forever growing distaste for everything finally eased. he gets to finally rest.

1x thinks this must be love, as love is a power dynamic just as what they have is a power dynamic. his wants and needs are being met and he gets to make builderman feel good. 1x is the one pulling the strings, just as it always has been, this must be love. wholly being able to alter the course of someones life must be love

neither one of them knows what actual love is for aforementioned reasons 👍 in my epic "post-forsaken au" they grow to actually love each other but its still like. weird. but its okay because they're weird together about it

[recycledraccoon]

Quick! I'm from the future!! I need your inkblade headcanons or scenarios or the universe will implode!

Ok ok, I can do this. I can answer this ask without going out of control. I can be normal about this, I can.

I don't have very many hardset headcanons, but more vibes that rise and fall like the tide. Oisin's fins/head-crest flare out ramrod straight and the spines turn as purple as his face if he's blushing hard enough. I will die on this hill. Oisin's non-verbal emotions are actually really easy to pick up on if he's too distracted to keep them tightly in control. A thick dragonborn tail lashing back and forth like an outlet for Emotions That Are Too Big can be really inconvenient in a highschool hallway. The rise and fall of his fins/head-crest are MUCH harder to hide however. Oisin also smells perpetually of petrichor, and it drives Adaine insane.

1. I think Oisin's crush started softly, and with indescribable longing, probably before he ever knew who she was. Freshman year, a Thursday Intro To Glyphs class. He doesn't know or talk to her at all, just a face in a class he has that he barely notices. So he's not falling for her quite yet.

I think he first fell in love in the way one does when you see a stranger sitting across from you on the public bus or train. The sunlight hit her hair and he couldn't take his eyes off suddenly. Maybe he saw her smiling and laughing with her friends, maybe she was rolling her eyes at them with her nose scrunched up just a little in faint judgement, maybe he can't even remember because while walking past in the hallway he had been so dumb-struck for a second he walked face first into an open locker door to Ivy's absolute confusion. (She does laugh at him mercilessly, even if he won't say why he walked into it.)

It's a moment of "I don't know you, you don't know me, but for one unfathomably long moment I wanted nothing more than to imagine a life lived that included basking near you and your smile every day until I die."

Unrealistic right? Just a passing stranger, this isn't a love story, it's an average Tuesday and Oisin has homework and an appointment with his party in the forest after school.

He gathers his bearings and moves on, and if his mind wanders back to the girl in the hall who had captivated him to lethal effect? Well it's a pleasant memory for him and he thinks that's allowed, right?

Except she's in his Glyph class two days later, he realizes, and suddenly that hallway moment of longing rushes back until his entire face is purple and he's trying not to stare at the occasionally stuttering but brilliant wizard girl two rows ahead in class.

1a. I think Oisin continued to take Glyph classes at first because he hoped she would too. Adaine doesn't, but Oisin continues because he is good at them and enjoys it and it's certainly easier to learn when he's not distracted in class 70% of the time.

2. As Oisin gets older, more and more of his dragonic nature becomes apparent. It's like a second puberty happening concurrently with normal puberty, which means it's a rollercoaster nightmare for him and the High Five Heroes/Rat Grinders.

2a. Dragons have hoards, but not all dragons hoard the same things, even within their own subclasses. Still, Oisin has quite a few gems and jewels in his fledgling hoard, despite not knowing what he most wants to hoard, and if his favorite gem just so happens to be one that reminds him of the shade of blue in a particular elven girl's eyes then-

2b. Oisin also has a deep fondness for rain and storms. He always knows if it's incoming even if it's not in the forecast. Something primal in him connects to the raging skies, for good or ill. It makes him feel confident and powerful. He also considers it very romantic. Unfortunately, Adaine gets so cross with him anytime she hears him predict a storm coming, even if he's talking to literally anyone else. (Adaine thinks Oisin is a storm himself, and if she is not careful she will be like the last Oracle and have forgotten to stock up on water breathing spells and drown in him amidst the storm of his being.)

2c. Dragons also hold great respect for power and prowess. Physical fights for hierarchy, play, or even courtship are very normal. For all that they are sentient brilliant beings, Dragons are still wild, untameable, primal things. This lurks underneath all of them, good or evil. Some are just more adept at hiding it. For courtship, this comes into play as sizing the other up. Both sides are looking to find out whether or not the other has any worth as a long term partner who would need to help guard the nest. Protecting eggs and hoards from greedy adventurers is serious business. There are reasons there aren't many truly ancient dragons. Too large a discrepancy in strength can sometimes be a turn off for the stronger one, so the most successful courtships are usually of similarly strong dragons, or at least, ones that put up enough of a fight despite the gap.

c1. Oisin, seeing the great accomplishments and prowess of Adaine Abernant over the course of Freshman year, feels a deep stirring even before he's rage-starred. He wants to fight her so badly, to sling magic and bloody teeth until the raging beast inside is sated. Naturally this scares him at first, and Oisin REFUSES to seek Adaine out to talk because of it, because the teen boy part of himself wants something kind, soft and tender between them, while the dragon making itself known as he ages wants to prove itself strong to her.

Later, he will tell himself this urge was ENTIRELY because he'd been on the path towards being contaminated-then-consumed with rage and wanted the Bad Kids dead. Absolutely not because it's the first step in traditional dragon courtship. He just wants to prove himself to her. He wants to feel for himself the confirmation of her renowned battle prowess. This is all for purely rival-related reasons, he tells himself. He is, perhaps, a bit of a liar.

3. Adaine's crush, not just her thinking he's cute but her actual legitimate crush on him, actually starts when the Rat Grinders are being redeemed post-Junior Year.

Like, she hates his GUTS. He made her feel belittled and stupid during Junior year, and yes they kicked his and his friends asses, but also now they just have to deal with them still being around. (Yes this is how they made friends with Ragh too, but they're petty.)

Except...so now they have to spend time together, maybe in classes maybe because Lucy loves her friends despite everything but is also now a friend of The Bad Kids. The former Rat Grinders are CLEARLY trying so hard to be better and kinder, but still the parties are mingling and there is tension but its also so fucking funny.

So Adaine and Oisin's interactions is just a montage of them being assholes to each other. Oisin can be polite and respectable, funny even, with everyone BUT Adaine apparently. Bickering about wizard things, taunting cutting words, and Adaine repeatedly trying to punch his smug face whenever he gets too close while gloating if he's right about something.

3a. Adaine literally tells Aelwyn that while she wants and needs kindness, she does acknowledge that it's messed up that she wishes someone was a little mean to her sometimes. This rivalry with Oisin is NOT WHAT SHE MEANT!!!!!! (the monkey paw curls)

3b. The worst part, is no matter how much Adaine hates Oisin, is that it doesn't stop him from being attractive. Oh sure, she thinks he's an absolute asshole when he's sitting across from her in the library, but......

He's still absurdly tall, with large arms that are for more than just show. The conjuration tattoos are both practical and very pleasing to the eye, the almost electric blue of them a pleasing contrast to the softer blue shade of his scales.

The contradiction of those large round spectacles resting on his snout makes him look just dorky enough to go from being just another buff guy to being....well. Unfortunately, the glasses also do nothing to shield Adaine from the weight of his gaze.

When he looks at her with his full attention, behind those glasses are eyes of molten gold, and trained solely on her that gaze feels searing hot wherever it lands.

3c. Or perhaps, the worst part is she despises how he laughs. Sometimes, when she says something as clever as it is cutting, Oisin throws his head back just a little to laugh, bright and warm, all while his throat rumbles. It must be something draconic in nature, like a strong purr or distant rain clouds. It's much harder to get him to make that particular sound when he laughs, and the rumble feels unfairly like victory. Like she cracked the careful fascade he puts up to pretend like he's not a dragon.

The rumble also feels particularly reminiscent of butterflies in her stomach. (She elects to ignore this part.)

4. Oisin is a dragon, and he is a little obsessed with Adaine even if he doesn't dare to dream of going on an actual date with her after everything from the previous year. He cannot imagine a world where she would ever again believe him to be genuine in affection or intention towards romantic feelings. No instance of genuine fluster could ever be seen as anything but a clever ruse, he tells himself, he certainly wouldn't believe it if it was him.

But he's got her attention now, and he is possessive of that, of what he CAN get. Even if she hates his guts and pointblank threatens to kill him if he steps out of line-

Even if it's because she hates him, Oisin still has her eyes on him. Eyes like clear skies before the rolling storm, like they can pierce through everything he is and will ever be and know the truth of it.

Every conversation is like a battle, a verbal sparring that he TELLS himself is nothing at all like the courtship fights, but oh how sweet does it sound to his inner dragon. She could be cussing him out and he could feel like his heart would burst from his chest from the affection he feels, even as he riles her up further, until she slips into saccharine elven curses that he can practically taste on his forked tongue.

4a. Once he tosses back a clever jape in draconic at her. When she immediately starts in on him with the gutteral words of his native tongue, perfectly fluent but lilted ever so slightly like a refined melody, his tail accidentally knocks over a chair and his crest flares so strongly that he KNOWS his face must be more purple than a ripe plum. He's lost a battle and her laughter at the way he flees claiming he forgot something haunts him for days. He tries to get revenge by whispering things under his breath at her in Elvish, and her glare is divine, but it's so risky because she might just start talking to him draconic again and Oisin fears he could live a thousand years and still not be able to handle the sound of it when it falls from her lips.

a1. It's a lost cause. Adaine has a weakness now, and she wields it with all the precision she's developed on a battlefield. It's the cutest surest way to put him in his place, rile him up with the same burning fire that he seems so expert in stirring up in her. Oh he might try to argue back in draconic, or even throw a taunt out in Elvish, but he always stalks off first. (He makes the refined, posh but ancient language of Elvish sound like something Tracker would appreciate. He makes it sound ever so slightly wild, like something else is lurking behind all the refinery. Adaine is well practiced in steadying her breathing, and Oisin always cracks first.)

5. Everyone has seen these two bicker back and forth, and everyone knows trying to get them to stop or get between them means the two turn as a united front against whoever interrupted, and that's honestly worse.

5a. The Bad Kids and High Five Heroes/Rat Grinders have an ongoing bet amongst themselves on on if the two will snap and legitimately murder each other, or snap and start making out in the library. It's honestly way too elaborate of a betting system with odds changing all the time, but it is actually probably the most fun, non-tense bonding the two groups have together. They have also gone to GREAT LENGTHS to keep it secret from the two wizards, especially when one of them is the fucking ORACLE.

6. It's not all bickering and scathing words. Sometimes, when nobody else is around to see behind this precarious curtain...its soft and tender too.

6a. Sometimes, when Adaine is genuinely having a bad day and feels one wrong moment from truly snapping, she feels the magic of a conjured summon passing by whatever table or nook she stowed herself away to hide in. The smell of arcane-tinted petrichor lingers afterwards, and settled nearby is a warm drink that hadn't been there before. Sometimes its tea's she's fond of, sometimes a warm peppermint mocha from her favorite coffee place downtown. Against her better judgement, she is increasingly fond of the smell of rain. 6b. Sometimes, the rage feels like it never left Oisin's body. It burns him inside and out, and he's so exhausted fighting back these aftershocks. He is trying every day to make up for what he's done, but the feeling of unbridled rage haunts him. To indulge is to fail, fall off the wagon, and he will not falter, even if he squeezes his hands so tightly they bleed beneath his claws. A message cantrip blooms to life in his mind. Melodic, lilted draconic, giving not words of comfort, but familiar unafraid taunts. It's a challenge, he knows it, and somehow that makes it easier, rage giving way to fondness and the desire to prove himself. 6c. There are more late nights in libraries and sitting close at tables in out of the way restaurants working on difficult projects then either would ever let anyone know, not that they let anyone know of them at all. It's quiet honest conversations over dusty tomes and scattered papers. (They couldn't know how to make the most cutting of remarks if they knew nothing about each other, after all.) a1. Its Oisin, laying his head down in his arms over the library table, eyes watching her sitting next to him with hair falling in her face like it always does when shes bent forward focusing intently on her work. There are many, many times when Oisin does nothing but watch in silence. Sometimes, rarely, when its late and nobody will come by except to kick them out- He reaches a claw to gingerly tuck the silken gold hair behind the bright red ear of a girl who doesn't say anything about it, before he looks away entirely, trying to ignore the way he can feel his crest fluttering up and down as it seemingly contemplates flaring out.

a2. It's Adaine, rolling her eyes with no heat, as she steps into his personal space and is enveloped in the smell of petrichor. Calloused fingers lingering on rough scales as she ever so gently corrects a stance or spell casting motion that the unfairly tall dragonborn boy next to her had been working on perfecting.

The both know she doesn't have to be so close for this, that another demonstration from beside him would work just fine. He doesn't have to bend ever so slightly, dip his long draconian neck down so he can better hear her murmured words either, so close they can feel the heat of the others breath. He casts the spell perfectly, and Adaine steps back out to a respectable distance, and neither of them say anything about it.

7. Neither of them ever mention any of it. It feels taboo, like the triggering of a spell that will destroy both of them. The fighting, the bickering, the cutting words and sharp swords aimed at jugulars? That's easy, that's familiar and safe. It's what's supposed to happen between them, safe territory they can walk with eyes closed. It's the tenderness that's hard. It's the yearning and soft touches aborted at the last moment-

This is what would be their ruin, and the threat of it lingers above them, rolling clouds heavy with rain that just wont fall. Days, weeks, months pass by and they do not mention it.

8. Adaine, flush with Oracle-sure certainty, gestures for Oisin to slow down, to bend down low so she can tell him something. He protests, its about to rain any second and really Abernant, they're going to be late- Adaine kisses Oisin first, soft and sure as her hands cradle his scaled jaw, just as the dark clouds above them break open.

The kiss tastes like rain, and the loud, pleased rumble in her ears certainly isn't from the storm coming down on them.

[yandereunsolved]

I NEVER IN MY LIFE THOUGHT I WOULD SEE ANY MENTION OF JAMES RANDAL OUTSIDE OF JAMES RANDAL VIDEOS, THANK YOU FOR CHANGING THAT REALITY 💕💕💕💕

You're welcome! 🫶💞

Thank you all for enjoying that little bit of yandere James Randal content. I thought it was going to get 0 notes. Pleasantly surprised. Number #1 yandere James Randal truther here.

Platonic yandere James trying to look after zombie darling:

"Oh, look! Another homeless. This one is quite cute. I'll keep them. We can be friends."

"James, you can't just keep the homeless! It's rude."

"Are you two insane? That's a zombie! It's going to bite your head off!"

"Don't be mean to my new friend! I've decided to name them James Randal Jr. Say hi, James Randal Jr." Darling tries to attack him. "You must be on that fentanyl. That's no excuse. I'm gonna need to teach you some manners, James Randal Jr."

Ends up adopting darling (James Randal Jr.). Gets mad and has a fit every time someone calls them a zombie. Gives them the best beef and trash he can find. Gives them piggy back rides, as long as they don't try to bite. He even gets them their own cardboard box packaging so the both of you can match!

―

"Police officer! Police officer! Policeeeee officer! Over here. I have committed another crime!"

Darling groaning. James sticks to them like cheese on a Cluck-n-Bell burger. The force calls you his handler. Whenever someone rings in the James Randal code you are sent to the scene before he causes an even bigger scene.

"What is it, Mr. Randal?"

"Ooooh, look how polite you are! I would like to admit quilt to having an affair."

"That... isn't a crime."

"It is if I made my ex go boom-boom."

"You blew up your ex!?"

"Just a tiny splosion. I wanted it to be bigger but Osvaldo stole half of my C4! Something about making the stock market implode. Whatever that means."

"Who was your ex?"

James giggles.

"That slutty, hussy red-brick house across the street from that one crack den with the stripper clowns that do coke off each other."

"That... those were a lot of words. I―don't even know where to start."

―

Platonic yandere James overshares way too much.

"I threw up a pound of cocaine. And an entire ham."

"I once got a hysterectomy."

"I'm thinking of getting my landscaping license back. I want to make bushes like... penipises." giggles.

"I have so much blood on my hands. I can't remember if I ever had them clean." boops darling.

"I can teach you self-defense. I once had to shoot a turtle. And successfully did so. I have also taught good survival ethics. Like how you should always walk in the middle of the street. Ah, those were the good days when I was a youngin'. Gas was ten cents a cup and colored television hadn't been invented yet."

[authorautumnbanks]

A Thousand Days With You (22)

Series Master List

Suguru sets the boxes of pizza on the table. He stares at the table and the chairs, and wonders if Satoru took Kagome on this very table. Did he bend her over? Or did he take her against the counter or perhaps against the wall? He clenches his fingers and then breathes out of his nose. The scent of what they did is stale, but it still lingers in the kitchen. He should have pushed for more on their date, but he was trying to play the long game.

How foolish. If he had pushed for more back then, then perhaps she would have never gotten kidnapped by Shippo. He wouldn't be in this mess.

"Satoru is still playing dead," Kento says, stepping into the kitchen with the bag of drinks. He sets the bag down on the counter. "I don't..." Kento turns and lowers his voice. "I don't trust this Shippo." Kento runs his fingers through his blonde hair and then smoothes his palms over his tan suit, which has seen better days. It's wrinkled and in a dire need of a professional.

Suguru's lips twitch. It's on the tip of his tongue to ask, and yet you trust me after all these years? But he does not, because that is in the past now. In order for this to work, he needs all of them on the same page. Kagome is fond of them in her own way. Though he is not sure how fond of Kento Kagome is, but she did stick him with Satoru and him.

"I will wait before making a judgment," he settles on. "But... he calls her mommy." His lips tug downward. The word—no—the meaning of it, the intimacy of it, is what bothers him. It is bad enough that Satoru is far closer to Kagome than he is, and it is a smidge annoying that he has to share Kagome with Kento. It is easier to digest when it comes to Satoru. Suguru knows the faces Satoru makes when he's about to come. Knows how his breaths get shorter when Suguru sucks on his balls.

He knows Satoru.

But he doesn't know Kento as intimately and now there's Shippo.

A hot surge of anger spears through his gut. He can make it work with Satoru and he's sure he can grow to care for Kento romantically, but Shippo?

He refuses. No, Shippo would implode the delicate relationships he is building. That man has an air of trickery around him and is far too cunning. Where did he even come from? A man that powerful. He should have been on someone's radar. His ease of control over his sorcery and sheer vastness of it makes Suguru think that Shippo could be a grade one sorcerer.

His eyebrows pull taut together as the frown etches into his skin. No, Shippo should not be underestimated. He sent the three of them on a goose chase while he kept Kagome to himself for days. Calling Shippo a grade one sorcerer would be to undermine him. No, Shippo is most likely a special grade like him and Satoru.

How utterly annoying.

"The weekend date, you should come along as well." He smoothes the wrinkles out of his face and adopts a more pleasant expression, one that puts his family at ease and should hopefully put Kento at ease as well. There was a time when Kento would go along with whatever he asked without question.

Kento's jaw clenches. "There is no way the time would get approved for both Satoru and me."

"You say it as though they would fire you," Suguru says cheerfully, trying to mask the annoyance in his voice. He doesn't give a damn what the higher-ups will and won't approve, nor has he forgotten that one of them dared to dream of having Kagome as theirs.

Maybe it would be best if he took them out. As much as it pains him to take out a fellow sorcerer, he can find it in his heart to make an exception for those that are the cause for all the deaths. The monkeys are the cause for curses, but the higher-ups also have no regard for the students, nor do they care for anyone who does not stick to the status quo.

He should get rid of them and put his family in position.

"If something were to happen to one of the students—"

"I will ask my family to assist as a favor," Suguru cuts in. He walks out of the kitchen before Kento can open his mouth to throw out another useless excuse. Kagome's apartment is small, so it just takes a couple of steps to the right to enter the living room. She glances at him from her spot on the floor and shakes her head.

"Do you think I should give him a jolt? Or call Shoko?"

Suguru forces himself to look at Satoru. He bites back the sigh and plasters an easy going smile on his face. Satoru is faking it. Maybe in the beginning, he was shocked by whatever Kagome said to him. But now? Now, it is clear, Satoru is being a dramatic ass and keeping this act going to keep Kagome's attention on him.

Kagome narrows her eyes at him and stands. Green looks good on her. The dress stops right above her knees. There's nothing overtly sexual about her outfit. It's quite tamed compared to the number she wore on their date. Suguru swallows. Thinking about their date only reminds him of the opportunity he didn't seize.

Kagome takes a step back. She plays it off as if she is shifting her weight to one side, but Suguru sees through the act.

How skittish.

"Don't do that," he warns, taking a step towards her. From the corner of his eye, he notices the way Satoru's body tenses. How much longer is Satoru going to pretend?

"Don't do what?" She throws back at him.

"Run from me. I'll chase you." Suguru tilts his head to the side. "Do you want to be chased, Kagome? Do you want me to catch you?"

Kagome backs up until her legs hit the edge of the couch. "Focus, Suguru. We need to fix Satoru."

She says that, but something about her body language and the way her lush pink lips part tells him she wants to be chased. She likes the thought of it. Wants him to chase her.

"Satoru is fine." He takes another step and grins at her. "I'll give you a head start."

"I'm in no mood for games, Suguru."

"One."

Kagome's body jolts, and she turns to run, but Suguru catches her around the waist.

"You said you'd give me a head start," she whines.

"I lied." He inhales, breathing in the sweet floral scent that is Kagome. He wrinkles his nose at the scent of another man's cologne on her. How close did Shippo hold her for her body to be drenched in his scent? "I can hear how hard your heart is beating." Suguru tightens his hold on her and sits down on the couch. He spreads his legs. "You enjoy the chase?"

"Suguru," Kagome warns.

"If you only knew the thoughts that went through my mind the day we met," he interrupts, keeping one arm wrapped around her as his other hand trails up and cups her breast through the dress. Kagome's sharp gasp has his insides twisting around themselves and forcing a strangled breath out of his mouth.

Kagome shifts. "K-kento!"

"Can watch," Suguru soothes. "Isn't that right, Kento? You like watching." He brushes his lips against her ear. "And Satoru is lying there, wondering just how far you'll let me go. You will let me in, right, Kagome?" He pinches her nipple and smiles when, instead of pushing him away, Kagome arches her back.

Kento alternates between looking at Suguru and Kagome to looking at Satoru. His shoulders are as stiff as his spine. So rigid. Always in control, Kento. Suguru chuckles lowly before placing a kiss on Kagome's shoulder.

"This is indecent, Suguru," Kento grounds out. He fidgets with his fingers before clenching them. "And Kagome has been through a lot these past days. She does not need this." Kento gestures with his hands and then spikes his fingers through his hair as though he is not sure how to act.

"I disagree. I think this is exactly what Kagome needs," Suguru replies, sliding his other hand down. His eyes flutter shut as his hand cups her.

"Suguru," Kagome starts.

"Next weekend, you'll come with us, right?" He presses his fingers against her and groans at the slickness seeping through her underwear. He's barely touched her, and she's dripping for him. Suguru glances at Kento. No, she's dripping for them. She's getting off on being watched. "How long are you going to keep pretending, Satoru?"

Kagome's breath hitches.

Satoru sits up and stares at them with a blank expression. He may be fooling Kento and Kagome, but not Suguru. No, Suguru sees right through Satoru.

"You're just as sick as Kento," Suguru teases.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Satoru asks, startling Suguru. "I can remove him. Just say the word."

Suguru pauses.

Kagome turns her head and looks back at him. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth. He can't help himself, not when she looks at him like that. Suguru dips his head and captures her lips with his. His tongue slides between her lips, searching for every secret she is holding back. He wants it all.

For a moment, he forgets about Satoru. Forgets about Kento.

All he can hear, smell, taste, and touch is her.

"Come here, Satoru," Suguru commands, though he looks into Kagome's eyes as he says it. He wants to kiss her again, but holds himself back for now. "Time to put your teaching to good use. Show Kento how Kagome likes her pussy licked."

Satoru's lips press into a tight line as if he is irked by the situation. Suguru moves his hand from Kagome's breast and turns her head to face Satoru.

"Look at how hard he is for," Suguru murmurs in Kagome's ear. "He's straining in his jeans. Will you let him have a taste?" He closes his eyes, because the need to have her is too great.

No, he needs to draw this out. Keep her on the edge until she begins to seek them out. If what she has with Shippo is so great, then she wouldn't be on his lap, squirming with need at the mention of Satoru eating her out while Kento watches.

Suguru smiles and dips his head. He kisses her shoulder again.

Satoru brushes his hands away. "Hold her legs up," he grunts out. "All you have to say is stop or no," Satoru says. "Okay?"

"O-okay," Kagome breathes.

"Get over here, Kento," Satoru barks out.

Suguru holds Kagome's legs up, keeping his arms hooked under her as he rests his chin on her shoulder so he can enjoy the show as well. Her dress is bunched around her. Satoru moves Kagome's panties to the side and leans forward. His eyes never leave Kagome's, but it feels as though he is watching Suguru as well.

Kagome moans as her hands wrap around the back of his neck. Her head tilts to the left.

"Keep your eyes on them," Suguru says. His heart rate quickens. He has to force himself to stay still, despite how badly he wants to thrust upward.

Kento's face is flushed pink. He loosens his spotted tie as he sinks to Satoru's level.

"Sa-to-ru," Kagome cries out.

Suguru runs his tongue over the top of his teeth. He's never claimed to be a selfless man. He wants to hear his name falling from her lips. Satoru groans and moans nearly as much as Kagome as he practically devours her cunt in front of Suguru and Kento. From Kagome's breathless cries, to the way her legs tremble in his arms, and the sounds of Satoru slurping, Suguru is going half out of his mind.

Patience, he reminds himself. He needs to be patient. Get her addicted to them. Ease not only her into this, but Kento as well, who looks as if he is about to come undone by the second.

Smack!

Kagome jumps.

"Kagome," Satoru says, voice ragged with need. "How do you always taste so damn good?" He sighs before going back for more. His next words are muffled, but Suguru swears he can feel the possessives of them through the way Kagome trembles in his arms.

"Tongue," Suguru says.

Kagome grabs his hair and tugs. When she comes, it's Satoru's name on her lips.

He'll fix that later.

"Tongue, Satoru," Suguru says, with a bit of bite in his words.

Satoru huffs but leans forward, sticking his tongue out. Suguru wraps his lips around Satoru's tongue and hums. So that's what she tastes like. He closes his eyes and then snaps them open.

Fire. Right next to his face.

"You have one second to get away from her before I start ripping out your tongues," Shippo announces.

"Shippo!" Kagome exclaims, jumping out of Suguru's arms. She kicks her legs and hits Satoru in her haste to pull herself together. "I told you I'd call you."

Suguru gives Satoru a look. Why did he let Kagome kick him? His technique should have prevented that.

"Uh huh." Shippo glares at them and then morphs his face into that of a broken-hearted man. His eyes widen as tears stream down his face. "Y-you forgot about m-me again!" he wails, wiping his face with his arm.

"No! I didn't forget about you, Shippo," Kagome says, rushing over to him. She steps over Kento to get to Shippo's side. "Don't cry, Shippo. You know I hate it when you cry." Kagome wraps her arms around him and pats his back.

Shippo sniffs, but when he looks at them, his eyes are free of tears. He sniffles again. "I'm really upset, Mama. Will you hold me tonight?"

Suguru narrows his eyes.

Shippo sniffles again and then lets out a small cry.

"Okay, okay. I can hold you until you fall asleep," Kagome agrees, pulling away. She turns her head and blushes. "Are you three..."

"Staying here as well," Satoru finishes. "Besides, there's so much I—we—want to know about Shippo. You wouldn't kick us out, right?"

Kagome hesitates, but nods her head. "Okay, I guess this could just be one big sleepover." She grabs Shippo's wrist and tugs him forward. "Satoru, can you pick out a movie?" Kagome asks, over her shoulder, as she leads Shippo into the kitchen, where the food and drinks are.

Suguru sits there on the couch and wets his lips. The fire is gone, clearly Shippo's doing.

This is going to be more challenging than he thought.

***

A/N: Happy Sunday! I hope your week has been going well. Allergies have been kicking my butt, so I wrote this from my bed.

I actually feel sorry for our little trio because Shippo is going to bring in the big dog now to help keep these strays from sniffing around Kagome. And just to add, Shippo didn't see anything, but he knows what happened while he was gone because he can smell it.

Next update will be Wish I Could and that will actually be updated on 08June25. I will be taking a break next week, fyi. Forcing myself to have scheduled breaks so I don't burn out and Wish I Could chapters tend to be longer.

Have a wonderful week! Happy Holidays if you celebrate Memorial Day, and make sure to take care of yourselves! Get plenty of rest and do things that refill your well.