#this is from issue 33 btw

[ex-vespidae]

vampire bat ponies my beloved.... they r so silly...

also i love their little collars rarity is slaying in that vampire cape, i love how she just somehow has the outfit for everything...

[jrueships]

nevermind yall. forget ALL my criticisms. this movie got vince staples in cute lil shorts??

T E I N !! (10) Keith Lee declaration of glee with the hands in the air !!

why are they the only ones all flared like that lol it's so cute <3 n his pretty shoes too omg!! babygirl!!

[maxdurden]

something about bart's anxiety ridden over thinker era is really speaking to me

[fleursbending]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲'𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. | Sully Family

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 : "You taught me that love doesn't make us weak, it makes us stronger." Sully! Reader to Sully! Parents? Just a fluffy family fic please

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : sully!family x sully!daughter

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : becoming one with the metkayina's has not been an easy task. as everyone continues to settle in their own ways, your family begins to grow more worried about your well-being. this isn't the sully they know. you're withdrawn, and quiet. what better way to fix that than to seek you out when you least expect it?

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : hi if you're confused so am i! there were issues when i first posted this so i am reposting it again. thank you for the love on the previous one though! // trust me this is fluffy 😭 just have to go through a lil angst to get to that part <33 this is purely a self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic! didn't fully proofread this btw! pls feel free to reblog and leave your thoughts in the comments.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : bullying, discrimination, angst but fluff at the end, descriptions of loneliness, hurt/comfort, you're gonna wish even more that u were a sully after reading this.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 3.2k words

𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 : hiiiiii my luvs you can read part 2: here !🙏🏼

The ocean was not your friend, you could only look at the endless channel of water in disdain. This was far too daunting for you, you liked the little rivers or ponds back at home. The sealife while beautiful, petrified you.

You missed the lush greens and the smell of the dew from the occasional rain back in the jungle. It was easy to forget your responsibilities, not that you had as many as your other siblings. Being the second youngest Sully had its perks. Not older than Lo'ak, and not younger than Tuk.

The "expeditions" you went on now made you look like a fool. You didn't know the terrain here, how to navigate fluidly through the water like Tsireya, Ao'nung, or Roxto.

Each passing day your siblings got better at managing to hold their breath, and riding their Ilu's. But you were still stuck in the past.

It felt reality kept kicking you in the face. Your stubborn self was annoyed as well. Holding a grudge against your family. It seemed like no one missed home. You understood why your parents made the decision they did, but it didn't make the act of doing so hurt any less.

At least you had these quiet moments before your thoughts ran rampant to practice your breathing.

You were suddenly interrupted from your twisting thoughts when a nudge was directed at your head.

It was Ao'nung and his crew.

"Leave me alone." You hissed at them, not wanting to deal with their bullshit today.

"Leave me alone." Ao'nung mocked you as he tugged on your tail.

You quickly stood up, looking to see if any of your family were close by. They weren't. You were supposed to be back in the Mauri but once again, you lost track of time.

"No one is here to help you, Y/n."

They grabbed your hand, poking insults at you and your family. You knew better than to talk back, especially if no one was here to help you out. It was 4 against 1. So instead you bit your lip and kept your mouth shut.

"Roxto, are you there?" His mother called from around the corner, startling the goonies.

"You're in luck, scram!" Ao'nung hissed at you.

Eyes widening, you stumbled as you rushed back to your Mauri. You didn't dare look back at your tormentors.

Once you were a few steps away, you slowed your pace. Catching your breath, before making your way inside.

The worried chatter of your family halted when you made your presence.

Neytiri stopped pacing, moving over to you and grabbing your face in her hands.

"Ewya help me before I lose it. Where have you been? You're 15 minutes late! I was about to send your brothers out to look for you."

Had it really been that long?

"I'm sorry." You looked down in shame. It's weird being on the brunt end of the stick. Even your parents have grown more accustomed to having to tell you off rather than Lo'ak. It was definitely odd.

"You didn't answer your mother's question, where have you been?" Jake didn't like being stern with you, but you being late to dinner had been happening more regularly.

You used to be a stickler for these dinners, being the one to push for them. How everyone had to be in attendance, and on time. It was family bonding time, moments to catch up on what everyone had done that day.

"Just around, I was with my Ilu - I'm sorry." You looked down to the Mauri's floor, unable to meet your father's eyes. It was hard lying to him.

Neteyams eyebrows arched in confusion, he had just been with his Ilu. You were nowhere in sight. He decided to let it slide this time, but he couldn't help but wonder where you snuck off too.

"Alright well, you really got to keep track of time yeah. You used to love these dinners!"

"Yes, and I still do!" You answered too quickly, not missing a beat.

If Jake wasn't suspicious before, he certainly was now. But like Neteyam, he decided to let it slide. Your brothers had told him and Neytiri how you've been struggling to catch up and learn everything in the lessons.

That was partially it, but if only he was aware of the bigger picture.

Jake nodded, looking to Neytiri. She also held a look of concern, but Jake made a silent signal that basically stated:

"We shouldn't push it, not now."

"Well, let's eat before the food gets even colder." Neytiri ushered her kids over, keeping a close eye on you.

Your family gathers around the food that was already set, and start eating. As all your siblings chatted excitedly about the activities they've done throughout the day. You didn't say a thing, not even piping in.

Neytiri and Jake once again met gazes, thinking the same thing.

Something's wrong with our daughter.

Soon dinner was over and it was time to rest, as your family rested together you couldn't help yourself as you removed Tuk's arm that clung to your shoulder.

Maneuvering your way outside, you jumped into the water. Why sleep when you can practice again?

Before Eclipse ended you made sure to squeeze the excess water out of your hair and made yourself comfortable alongside your family. Your body ached and could no longer fight off your sleep deprivation. But it was worth it, you could hold your breath a lot longer now under water.

From then on, it gradually got worse. Even your siblings would struggle to find you throughout the day. You'd take longer naps through the day, and Lo'ak knew you were sneaking out at night. Your essence seemed to further rid itself from you, and all that was left was a hollow shell of yourself.

They too, shared similar thoughts with their parents. No longer could they see you dwindle away. It didn't sit right with them, you're a Sully through and through. Sully's stick together.

So they did what they know best and was most accessible to them, track.

Instead this time they weren't on a hunt, or looking for what was to be a good meal for their clan. They were following the steps of their baby sister.

If you stepped out of your brain for a moment, you would have immediately clocked them. But once again, Y/n was shut in her own bubble.

"Bro, don't you find it weird that she hasn't realised we are here?" Lo'ak whispered as he looked at you behind the leaves keeping them hidden.

"Shut up, Lo'ak" Neteyam grumbled. He didn't want to agree even if his words held some truth.

"Hey, I have to agree with him. We shouldn't have been able to get this far. She's usually far too hyperaware of her surroundings." Kiri observed you, stunned and clueless.

They'd never been to this part of Awa'atlu before. They'd been so fixated on the ocean. They had yet to really explore the area that surrounded their new home. It oddly felt like they were waltzing through their past.

At last, you came upon your tree. You liked it because it had a specific branch that you could curve into. Blend in, and be one with your surroundings. Like you had used to do before in the jungle. This was now your next best option.

Your siblings looked in confusion at one another, not understanding how this could be the reason you've been periodically gone. Did you spend all your time here?

But then it came.

It was barely there, and you were struggling to catch your breath. The cries.

It strikes through the serene sounds of the waves crashing against the shore, and the nearby insects chirping.

Your sibling's ears flattened as they looked at each other in sheer worry. You were a spitfire, but you had always been calm and collected. The physical embodiment of the word warm. Happiness was always with you. So where did it all go wrong?

"Great mother, I fear that I am not good enough. I thought consistency was key, I've been trying to practice anytime I can. But I'm so tired. I've never felt this weak and useless?" You mumbled to yourself, looking up into the sky.

Groaning in frustration, you continued. "Maybe Ao'nung was right. I will never be one of the people. I will always be too alien. I will never be able to live up to my family."

Lo'ak enraged by the doubts you had voiced stepped out from their cover.

Your ears tuned into the noise, you finally tuned into your senses and became more alert. As you hopped off the branch, hastily wiping your tears.

"Brother." You choked out, lips trembling.

He took slow steps towards you, trying to soothe you as he brought you into a hug.

"Baby sister," he said so quietly, solemnly.

You couldn't remember the last time he hugged you, and neither he could he. It wore his heart down, seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

Soon the presence of more arms wrapped around you both, clinging onto you - securing you in their grasps. For the first time in a long time, tenderness surged through you.

"We've got you, Y/n. You're going to be alright. Let it all out now." Neteyam who was at your right side gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead, muttering to himself - "Oh my baby sister."

Kiri had never felt such pain from you, it came off in waves. And it almost debilitated her. In that moment, it was the most protective she had felt for you. It synced through all of them, a fire had awaken in the pit of their souls - so fierce that even Toruk Makto would flinch from it.

Slowly your breaths began to ease, and your tense shoulders slumped down. It was emotionally taxing having had all these emotions balled up inside you. Now it was unraveling, and it felt all too bittersweet.

Your siblings sensing this, mellowed out on their group hug they were giving you. Moving over, you all settled down against the tree you've been confiding in moments before.

Tuk grabbed your hand while Kiri tucked your intricate braids behind your ears. You mouthed a "thank you", leaning your head on her shoulder.

All it took was Neteyam to ask a very simple question, "What's been going on, baby sister?"

And once your mouth opened, you decided - why not just let them in on everything? So you did.

You told them about how ashamed and humiliated you had felt when you started lagging behind. How Ao'nung and his friends would tease you whenever they had the chance to do. (It was always away from prying eyes). Due to that, it only made the feelings of hatred you harbored for yourself - increase a tenth-fold.

A deliberately belligerent cycle was born. Self-doubt equated to "I will push myself to the brink of exhaustion". You'd seek out your family thinking they'd have noticed. But they were too caught up in their own commitments to realise your intentions.

All you wanted was for any of them to see the hard work you had been pouring in to adapting here. But how could they when you always lingered on the outskirts?

Late to dinner, late to the lessons, never seen. They couldn't appreciate what was in front of them because they hadn't witnessed it themselves. How utterly ironic.

"I see why you didn't, but I wish you had told us, Y/n. We could have helped you." Kiri insisted as she patted your head.

"I know." You grumbled, but you were grateful for how attentive they are to you.

"Ao'nung will pay." Lo'ak seethed, completely shifting the topic of conversation.

Neteyam rolled his eyes and interjected. "He will, but not in the way you are seeing it in your mind right now. We have to go to dad and mum about this."

Your irritated eyes widened, leaping up from where your back had laid against the tree. Y/n scowled at Neteyam, her tail flicking in anguish. No, not her parents.

"Absolutely not, 'Teyam. They mustn't know anything of this." You countered him, disbelief flooding your features. Your parents would only perceive you as a failure, and that was the last thing you could stomach right now.

Neteyam stood up by you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. He shook his head at you and gave you one of his brotherly grins.

"Baby sister, they are just as worried as we are." He looked behind you, and urged you to turn around.

Oh great mother, that could only mean one thing.

Ember crashed on ember, one filled with panic, and two filled with distraught. The tension was taut, but all your parents wanted to do was cradle you in their arms like they had in your first few months of life.

"Kids, back to the Mauri." Jake ordered them, pointing back to where it was.

"But dad-" Lo'ak butted in, worriedly looking at you.

"It's okay. Thank you, Lo'ak." You coaxed him to join your siblings who were also hesitating a little.

They disappeared amongst nature, and their footsteps grew fainter and fainter. Until all that was left was your heartbeat pounding in your ears. It felt oddly comforting being in their company even though doubt was eating you up from the inside.

It's been a while.

Neytiri was the first to approach you, her hands shook as she cradled your face. She took you in for the first time in weeks, and this time she was able to do it properly. Lately, she'd only been able to admire you whilst you sleep, or during meals.

In the morning you'd be gone in a blink of an eye. Throwing a haphazard, "I'll see you later", over your shoulder.

She missed you profoundly, so much that it physically pained her sometimes. Neytiri treasured you deeply, to put it bluntly - her heart felt like it'd been slashed by a Thanotor ever since you started pushing yourself away.

Jake followed in his mate's footsteps. His eye's tearing into your soul and trying to catch if there had been any distinct changes that have occurred to you.

"You don't look like yourself." Jake stumbled on his words.

Neytiri hissed, smacking your dad on the back of his head. A slight giggle escaped you that made both of their hearts sing. "Ma jake."

"Sorry." He mumbled, giving you a cheeky grin.

Y/n's doubts were already melting away before she herself could even acknowledge it. She grabbed both her parent's hands, leading them over to her tree not too far away from where they had been standing.

Mimicking how she and her siblings were just before. She settled against the tree again, bringing her parents down with her.

The trio admired their surroundings, taking in the wonders of Pandora. Especially Jake, and Neytiri. This is the closest they've felt to something akin to the jungle they'd once inhabited.

"I'm sure you heard everything, and it is true. I am sorry if I've disappointed you guys. I thought I could manage it all on my own."

Neytiri played with your hair and could only chastise your words. "You did not disappoint us, if anything - you infuriated us. We were just worried about you, our dear daughter."

Jake nodded in agreement. "We love you, and we want to be there for you. We will if you allow us. That's what we are here for. You don't need to fight these battles alone. Remember what I told you, baby girl?"

You rolled your eyes and pushed your dad away from you jokingly.

"It's us against the world." You mumbled.

Jake teasingly put a hand to his ear. "I'm sorry? What was that? I couldn't hear you."

Neytiri let out a soft laugh at you two's antics, watching with endearment sparkling in her eyes.

Clearing your throat, you reiterated your words. "It's us against the world."

Jake did extravagant hand motions, "More enthusiasm please!"

You were beaming, yelling out, "It's us against the world!"

"That's right baby, it is." Jake wrapped an arm around your shoulders bringing you to his side. Neytiri instinctively leaned against you both.

Y/n couldn't help but admire her parents. They were her foundation, her protectors. She couldn't believe that she used to be ashamed of being a Sully. It was her legacy, one she is only beginning to pave. She wasn't about to let Na'vi who didn't truly know her, dictate her life any longer.

"You taught me that love doesn't make us weak, it makes us stronger." You started, staring at your parents.

"I just - I couldn't catch up. There are so many other bigger things to worry about, and I thought.. I don't know. That I'd overcome this. I tried to love the ocean and the people. But I miss home. I miss everything that was green, now it's just all blue! That's actually why I like this place so much." You rambled, arms waving erratically. It felt gratifying to get it off your chest, especially to the two people you have wanted to tell from the get-go.

Your parents nodded, taking all your words in. But they were still conflicted. Their daughter had a competitive nature like no other, every time the world pushed her down - she always got back up. If you were lagging behind so much, you would have just pushed yourself more. Work extra hard, and seek help from your family.

But you haven't done any of that this time. All the means necessary she could have used as a stepping stone were left out of this equation. Instead, you had suffered in silence.

"You know, Y/n. It's not your fault for feeling like you don't belong. But you are one of us. You are Sully, you are the embodiment of strong heart. It does not matter what others say to you when no one else is there. It does not matter that you have 5 fingers." Neytiri protested, sighing.

She made sure you were looking at her, hearing her.

"What matters is how you control how it affects you. You are still growing, baby. This is a lesson you will remember for a lifetime and the next." Neytiri advised you, squeezing your hand.

"Your mother is right. At the end of the day, the power is in your hands. So use it, sweetheart. Follow your heart, and let us know next time if it gets a little too much. Alright?" Jake expanded on what Neytiri had told you.

You looked down at their hands holding yours. Yeah, Sully's really do stick together. And you wouldn't trade that for anything else in this world and all the other's orbiting you.

"Alright." Y/n restated, tugging both of her parents up with her. They stared at their child with confusion.

"Let's go back home." This time what you threw over your shoulder to them was a sweet smile, dimples and all.

Neytiri and Jake spoke with only their eyes as they let Y/n guide them back to their Mauri.

Our daughter is going to be just fine.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ˳೫˚

bonus:

Y/n's laughter could be heard inside the Mauri as she played in the water with Tuk just in front of their home.

Jake turned to Lo'ak and Neteyam who were doing some chores.

He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck.

"I'll turn a blind eye if you decide to give Ao'nung a beating or two. Just for today." Jake mentioned, before going back to cleaning his gun.

Lo'ak had a devious grin, rubbing his knuckles together, "Yes Sir."

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

⤷ feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated ! feel free to ask through my inbox if you would like to join my taglist. ♡

[riskyraiker]

helloooo!! My request is kinda small, but can I request TFP decepticons reactions to a fem reader with a tiger alt mode?? (Colors are just white and black) she’s aggressive, but also gentle to ones she trusts and loves. Hope you don’t mind adding slight romance in it😓 Ty!<33

Reader with a tiger alt mode + the decepticons

Oh my god i love this😭🫶 btw there will not be anything about starscream except him hatin' predaking and reader :D since they're both like animals. Hope you enjoy!!

CW: there's a few dirty jokes so beware!! XD

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Megatron

Finds you a good weapon in the battlefields ofc, but he does want you to be in best shape after every battle. Admires your strength to even defeat the last prime and almost eliminating him.

He rarely needs saving, but when you turned up, ripped optimus away from megatron, something lit up in him. The need of having you.

Talked to you after the whole battle and gave you best treatment he could with ordering knockout!!

The way you're actually gentle and caring didn't interest him before, but now he actually finds you slightly cute if he dares to admit it to himself.

Does like your choice of colour and style. Tigers do represent strength, courage and commanding respect! Like himself.

If he ever got the chance he would tell you he likes you and he will have you in his arms the rest of the day/night

Is really dominant in a relationship of course, but he knows how to be caring atleast.

If you insist of becoming his personal bodyguard he'd let you. Not because he's "weak", but so everyone knows not to challenge him even clearer.

Starscream yelling anything bad about you BANG He'll be getting treated by knockout soon enough. It was either you or Megatron but who cares, you both kick ass.

Any Autobot scum dare to hurt you? He WILL have their helm in under a week.

He actually loves you even if he doesn't say it :) You're on his good side with soundwave!

Soundwave

Does he care at first when he meets you? uhhh, no :) but when you start to check up on him while he works does make his spark a bit warm.

Stalks where you are going once he starts to take interest in you, but not in a creepy way ofc! He wants to know if you're safe or fragging somebot

Finds you pretty when he has time to look at you. Black and white is pretty old style, but fancied after all this time.

If you get injured in a battle he will make the autobots chase laserbeak and he'll comes and gets you back to the nemesis.

If you stay a lot in tiger form he gives you pets if you ask. He ain't that mean and can't say no to that face. (He can :))

He serves Megatron with huge loyalty so he's a busy bot, hope you can live with that. (just stay in the room with him and cuddle his pedes in tiger form)

If he he's busy any other way laserbeak will stay with you. Your little baby bird :)

He doesn't speak so he will just display hearts on his or any other monitor close to you <3

He's just a sweet quiet bot with speaking issues xD

Dreadwing

Treats you decently at first which is so cute. Since you're caring, sweet and follow rules well he thinks you're not that bad.

Once he sees you beat half of the autobot team, he wanted to stay on your good side ALL THE TIME.

Once he catches interest ohhoh, you will be smitten!

I imagine he's more of a gentleman so he would let you go through doors first and help you when needed.

Patrols together? Do you even have to ask :)

Admires your style and the way the black and white bring the best parts of your frame out.

If you're big as a tiger jus give him a ride to battle and just chuckle at autobots' faces.

Spends time with you much as possible, but serving Megatron is most likely higher priority to him than you.

HAND KISSES TO SHOW AFFECTION!!!!!!!!

Injured and need help? It's already taken care of since Dreadwing is in the battlefield with you.

Does say that he loves you multiple times in the week. (Maybe even in a day)

Doesn't like starscream, never did and doesn't now either since he's always trash talking you down.

"Stupid pest! You trashed the whole control room! Can you do anything good in this primus forsaken ship!?!? I might aswell rip you spa-"

"Whose the second in command, starscream? You better shut your intake and not speak a WORD of my love like that again!"

That would turn me on WHO SAID THAT?! NOT ME :)))

Loves you unconditionally and shows it much as he can <3

You kept his knife/sword after he got killed :((

Knockout

"IS THAT A BEAUTIFUL PAINTJOB I SEE?!" his first reaction of you be like :D But like actually he loves it.

That's what he liked in you at first only, but once he gets to see your sweet and caring personality...oh he's probably passing out.

"Since you're the only medic here, I thought you'd like some help :)" You went to help Knockout with something and he didn't even ask? He must be in heaven/one with the all spark?? idfk

Imagine if you save his aft and his fabulous paintjob? He would give you big grin "So you do admire my paintjob, doll? I knew it ;)" Such a fragging dork he is

Go racing with him please!!! Your and Knockout's quality time is racing 100%

Oh and the drive-in theaters he mentioned in season 3! He takes you there for a "date" but doesn't say it is.

Just confessed a random day when you came to check up on him

"Helloooo Knockout, do you need any hel-" "I love you..." "I love you too dummy" *Smooch* Cute

Poor breakdown, now he's the third wheel :,) UNLESS POLYAMORY IS FINE WITH YOU ALL IS FINE ALL IS PERFECT <3<3<3<3

But when he dies you'll help Knockout with buffing :,( and support aswell.

The corniest couple of decepticons or any living cybertronian couples. Just cuteness everywhere nonethless!!!

Breakdown

He was intimated by you at first like he found Arachnid intimidating.

But once you show your sweet and caring side he lowers his walls. He also loves your style (And you already <3)

Talks about you to knockout and asks for advise since he's so clueless.

Seeing your strength in battle made his optics shaped like stars and he admired you for like a week after. He wants to challenge you, but holds his request back.

If your alternate form is a automobile...PLEASE GO FOR A DRIVE TOGETHER

He ain't got the balls to confess so ofc you made the first move

The big bot team in battles!! Go on and beat bulkheads aft and laugh together when you recall those fights back at nemesis (or when he's gone :(

POLYAMOROUS WOOOOOOO GET KNOCKOUT OVER HERE!!

Shows his love for you when there is not many bots around. (Professionalism!!) You're at work so behave!

Hugs, hugs, hugs and HUGS! He's a bigbuly bot so he gives good bear hugs <3

The only thing you have left of him is a pretty crystal he brought you before he died :((

Predaking

Another beast on nemesis? He makes sure you know who's stronger, mightier and loyal. But you managed to surprise him by actually being sweet once you get to know him.

Wants to protect you and if you both are in beast mode you WILL play fight

He might offer you a flight if you are nice enough to him

Fell in love with you when you bit Starscreams wing after he hit Predaking.

Most likely the deadliest duo on the ship unless Megatron joines too >:)

Autobots can go panic into a corner when you two show up on the battlefield :D It feels like a morning stretch to you two xD

You join Predaking if Shockwave decides to "borrow" him for a little bit and it makes his whole frame warm up.

Actually loves you show much and shows it even. SNUGGLES AND CUDDLING DURIN RECHARGE PLS

Wants to spend the future with you. And after the whole Megatron posessed by Unicron thing you both go and live on your own <3 Just him and you, no one else.

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AN: TWO POSTS IN ONE DAY WTF?!?!?! But here you go! Don't mind if the writing is a little scoodaddle, I wrote during the middle of the night and the next morning so it's what it is :)) Hope you like it and don't be afraid to request more!!!!<3333

[mangostarjam]

fuji!! hope you've been doing ok lately :)) make sure to give yourself breaks when needed! treat urself with kindness and grace pls, remember you deserve it even when you think you don't <33

i came by to share my most recent 3am smutty brain rot hehe ;)))

key word: tenting. i'd imagine the kaiju suits have some sort of compressive technology to combat this issue, but yknow what probably doesn't?

(answer: vice captain's hoshina's sweatpants. its something you take unfortunate --or fortunate lmao-- notice of during one of ur training sessions when he decides to shed that half-jumper of his. WHICH BTW!! i fully believe he cut the bottom half off bc he likes taking it off when training, but cant be bothered to remove the whole thing LOL)

pre-relationship!hoshina is watching shortie!reader train and give guidance to the recruits and yknow, watching you fight gets him going and really, he didn't mean to pop one then and there but could anyone blame him when you look absolutely stunning beating the sht outa the recruits?? (i'm 5'1". this is self-indulgence hehe)

okieee love u stay hydrated, make sure to at least eat snackies if not meals, byee <33

- 🧸

hiiiiii friend thank you for thinking of me!! i am trying to take care of myself and thankfully august is almost over so i should be better soon!

i'm ngl this did make me wonder about their suits and uniforms HAHA but i am very pro self indulgence with writing!! gray sweatpants and tenting can absolutely be the death of me and while the uniform pants aren't the same thing, they're close enough imo!! or maybe i just think soshiro's hot in anything (also true let's be real)

this is like 900ish words and not smutty (sorry) but i did have fun thinking about a shortie!reader kicking ass!! love u teddy bear anon thank you for dropping by and i hope you still like this!

You're having the time of your life.

A strange thought to have, maybe, while you're busy dodging strikes and dipping and twirling around your opponents. Being much smaller than most members of the Defense Force means you're used to being underestimated, though your platoon has had enough time with you by now that they should be used to training against you.

They aren't.

You laugh as you swoop past the fists aimed in your direction, caught up in the giddy adrenaline of being good.

Everything moves in slow motion. The rise of your opponent's chest, strands of hair catching the light, muscles tensing for a blow. The sharp red gaze watching your every move from by the fence. You take it all in and blow past your teammates, emerging unscathed from the manned obstacle course and grinning, breathless.

Hoshina Soshiro grins back.

"Laps," he says, glancing past you. The rest of the platoon grumbles good naturedly, but they take off jogging around the track. You bounce on the balls of your feet as your Vice Captain stalks over towards you, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants.

"How did I do, sir?" you ask.

"Pretty sure Minase almost caught ya," Soshiro says. "And your form got sloppy at the end. But not bad, I guess."

"Minase did not," you splutter, but Soshiro just laughs. "I swear I'll get a real compliment from you someday, sir."

Soshiro shifts on his feet and you blink, distracted by the awkward way he's keeping his hands in his pockets. He's wearing his typical super-distracting skintight shirt — his jacket is hanging on the fence post — and your gaze pauses on the bunch of his shoulders and the strain of his biceps. Not wanting to be caught staring, you blink and move on. His pants are cinched tight at his hips, but as your confused stare drifts lower, he coughs.

"You get enough of that from the rest of the platoon leaders," he says lightly. "And 'sides, ya still ain't fast enough to get past me."

Sparks fill your veins. You glare up at him. "Oh yeah? Let's go, then!"

"Not now."

You nearly stumble in shock. In all your time under his command, the Vice Captain has never denied one of your training requests. It's led to many late nights in the practice rooms, joking and working together, bits of advice tossed out as he threw you around the room with a strength that made you dizzy. It's surprisingly easy to suppress your silly little crush when Soshiro is busy kicking your ass, but you enjoy the time spent with him all the same.

"Huh? Why not?"

Soshiro shrugs. The movement draws your attention to his shoulders, but that only sends your gaze down his arms to his hands stuffed into his pant pockets. Why is he standing like this, anyway? It's like he's trying to — oh.

Your mouth opens slightly in awe. Your eyes widen. The front of your Vice Captain's pants...

Well, it's safe to say Izumo Tech has some impressive compression technology for the anti kaiju suits. Those things are skintight, molded to your bodies for better kaiju cell synchronization and ease of movement. You've often wondered if it's uncomfortable for people with dicks, since the material sticks so closely. But none of you are wearing the suits right now — you're in uniform, and while the uniform is a bit looser, you've never noticed anything... like this.

Like the thick, unyielding bulge straining against the front of Soshiro's uniform pants.

You snap up to meet his enigmatic gaze as soon as you recognize what you're looking at, but Soshiro merely hums a little. "Ya looked pretty good during that obstacle run," he says.

"But you said my form got sloppy."

Soshiro grins. "Ya still looked good."

Does that mean...? You glance at his pants again and — yup, it's unmistakable. His hands may be in his pockets but there's nothing else that bulge could be, unless he's hiding some kind of secret weapon down there.

"Are you always like this?" you ask. Insubordination be damned — there's no way you can let this go now. Your heart pounds into focus, the lightning quick beat of your pulse drowning out your thoughts as Soshiro snorts.

"Do I get in trouble with HR a lot, y'mean?"

Oops. You're blushing. You're blushing and he's just laughing quietly to himself like your reaction pleases him. "I won't — I don't, um... I don't mind, I was just... wondering?"

Soshiro raises an eyebrow. You gulp as you meet his red eyes. "Am I always turned on while I'm watchin' ya take on guys two times your size?"

You nod. Your Vice Captain tilts his head up, watching birds flit across the sky for a moment as he processes this. "Guess it depends," he says, "this only happens with you, y'know. So d'you want me to be?"

"Do I want you to be...?"

"Interested?"

Your platoon is finishing up their laps, and soon you'll need to take your place among the obstacle course to attack as the next person has their turn. You're running out of time to respond. Your brain is buzzing. The both of you turn to watch as your platoon jogs closer.

"I do want you to be interested, Vice Captain, sir," you say firmly, staring straight ahead but glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. The tips of his ears are pink. "I would be honored."

"It's Hoshina," Soshiro says. He tilts his head slightly towards you and grins at your noise of confusion. "You can use my name while we're datin'."

[ddejavvu]

I really like your “girl meal” writing for spencer I was wondering if you could do something similar for Remus or James

(Your writing is fantastic btw <33)

"Darling?"

By the apprehension in James's tone, you might have thought he discovered a three-headed lion in the kitchen. When you exit the bathroom, though, all you find is him eyeing your dinner plate warily.

"Hi, Jamie," You gush, enveloping him in a hug as welcome from the rugby meet he'd just returned from, "How was practice?"

"Good," He returns your embrace halfheartedly, "What's that?"

"Dinner," You hum, "You ate with the guys, yeah?"

"Yeah," He nods, and you're failing to see the issue here, "But what- what is it?"

"A quesadilla," You trail off, "Why?"

"Is there protein in there?" He glances over at your side dish, "And- spicy chips and guacamole?"

"Yes, James," You huff, "There's cheese. Cheese is protein. And yes. Chips and guacamole, what's wrong with that?"

"There's no meat," He notes tentatively, "And no vegetables, and lots of grease and carbs. It's not going to make you feel good, darling."

"Well, it's girl dinner," You huff, "It's not supposed to be nutritious, it's supposed to be yummy. And it's going to be, so back off."

"Alright." He lets go of your lazy hug, eyes wide and mouth fighting hard to appear stoic rather than amused. He busies himself with hanging up his keys, snatching a chip off of the side of your plate before you can stop him, "Alright, darling, enjoy your girl dinner."

"Not everyone can eat like a rugby player all the time!" You grouse, stuffing a triangle of your quesadilla into your mouth and letting the cheese spill deliciously over your tongue, "Eat steamed vegetables and bland chicken all you want, Potter, I'm happy with junk!"

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Hello!!! If it’s okay may I request some hcs of Sol n Geo (separate) comforting their partner after the partner got off the phone after arguing with their parents and the convo made them cry? Sorry ESL so I hope things make sense ORZ

have a good day ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

A Pillar for your Palace (Sol + Geo x MC/Reader - Post-fight with Parents)

Sweetheart, genuinely, I hope you feel better after that incident (this isn't me pitying you btw).

And have a wonderful day as well love <33

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were pissed…no. Pissed didn’t cut it; you were wrath itself. You were ornery, annoyed, frustrated, upset…so much so, that you threw your phone into the wall, loudly cursing as you did so.

You balled your hands into fists, your lips quivering from the cathartic release. You’re fucking exhausted. Of everything. You hated how fucking riled up you got over them; how furious you were over your own flesh and blood, over your parents themselves.

You sank to the cold tiled floor of your kitchen, your eyes resting on the cracked glass of your phone and the dent that now remained in its side from the sheer brutality of the impact the wall had on it.

You felt hot tears pelt your thighs as you sniffled. 

“MC? MC, what happened?!”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sol would immediately hug you and wipe your tears with his hands. Hell he might even start crying too. 

He wouldn’t even have to guess why you were crying; it wasn’t like he’d never had parental issues himself, and he probably figured out you had familial issues if you hadn’t told him prior. (He totally wasn’t eavesdropping on your convo with them nooooo).

Depending on the argument you had, Sol’s ‘Comfort Intensity’ would vary. If the argument relates to studying or school, he’d remind you of how smart he knows you are, how capable and talented you were (these aren’t empty words by the way, you all are definitely gifted in some way, especially the other people in this fandom). If it relates to your career, he’s gonna tell them to fuck themselves (but politely????? Idk, he doesn’t care that much about them tbh, he loves you at the end of the day).

If it was something more personal, such as them asking for money or them trying to get a favour from you, he’d firmly remind you you have boundaries, his grip a bit tighter on you. After all, how dare they try to siphon anything from you?

This man, no matter what the hell happened, would take your side 110%, mans wouldn’t even hesitate.

Would be silently livid at your parents, especially if he found out (either from you directly or his less-than-legal recon missions) that they were neglectful or God-forbid abusive.

Would contemplate threatening them to back off from you, especially if he knows they dislike him. Would be pleased that you trust him as much as he loves you.

Comfort-wise, Sol’d just try to take your mind off of it, whether through really kinky sex watching a movie, going out to get take-away, or some other form of activity that he knows you’ll enjoy.

He’d also buy you a new phone, or get your old one repaired if it's possible.

Essentially serves as a very emotionally and physically sanctuary for you, you know you can tell him anything and he’ll support you. <33

Geo would just be awkwardly offering you a hug (guys he’s trying okay), would be a bit irked as to why you shattered your phone against the wall.

If you tell him you fought with your parents, he’d be a bit more understanding about the incident, after all, he does have massive big dick energy daddy issues.

Would ask what the fight was even about (he probably overheard but still wants to get as much info as possible, he’s more logical with determining the best approach to comforting you).

If it relates to school, he’s going to ask for more details, so if needed he can offer aid with anything, or just figure out how much of the shit they say is somewhat reasonable, if at all.

Will be silently disgusted if he finds out they’re harassing you over small things, or nitpicking at your career choice or anything related to your future. It’s your life, he’ll just say it point-blank.

If they are annoyed with the fact they deem him as a ‘bad match’ for you, he’s gonna pull the biggest eye-roll known to man. May or may not get a bit affected by the comment deep down though.

If they’re trying to get your money, or get you to give them something and threatening/guilt-tripping you, he’ll probably nonchalantly call them later (maybe with permission, maybe not, depending how annoyed he is at them) and coldly tell them to back off from you.

Will take your side, you’re one of the handful of people whom he genuinely appreciates and cares about.

When it comes to comfort, I feel Geo was raised with a suck-it-up mentality, so he’ll be slightly less experienced in the art of emotional support. 

He’ll probably spend money on you, or let you buy yourself what you want, maybe will even let you hug him.

Might even pamper you, if he likes you enough (omg Geo doing your makeup and hair when?!)

Will be a teensy bit upset if you’re still sad about it (not at you, at your parents oml), will buy a fake plant to make you feel better.

Alternatively that’s when you both decide to get a #bonsaibaby, along with a new phone for you (rest in pieces old phone, you will be missed).

Will be slightly more attentive to you for a while, is the type to cut fruit and just silently leave it next to you when you’re not looking.

He’s trying hard, okay. He’s not exactly the best figure when it comes to words of affirmation, but he is superior at making sure you understand, clear as day, that you’re capable and intelligent; and he isn’t the type to lie about it either, so that helps as well.

Basically a banger s/o, he’ll aid you however he can. <3

[xoxochb]

percy jackson with a hades daughter please😩

(love your writing btw🩷🩷)

— you must like me for me

warnings: none pairing: percy jackson x daughter of hades a/n: my cabin my cabin my cabin!!!

୨୧ sunshine x grumpy trope my beloved

୨୧ first thing I want to talk about is the short ass tempers of hades kids. I can speak from experience I’ve got the shortest temper ever

୨୧ hades kids can kill upon their will and you would use this to your full advantage if the idiotic percy jackson didn’t prevent you from doing so

୨୧ like I mean some kid could’ve pissed you off over something stupid I’m not even sure— let’s say they took your reading spot even if it’s not really yours but it is because you silently claimed it

୨୧ and you’re angry as FUCK. like I’m talking rising the dead- darkened eyes- fists balled up kind of angry

୨୧ and what kind of boyfriend is percy if he allows you to kill a kid over something stupid? you think, personally, he would be the best. percy on the other hand thinks it’s not morally acceptable

୨୧ he’s also trying to save your rep because in camp hades kids are typically frowned upon because your father being the god of the dead and all they think you’re all weird and emo

୨୧ and percy hates seeing you bullied by the other campers over this so he calms you down before anything happens, successfully keeping the live of the camper who stole your spot

୨୧ anyways let’s talk about when you first met

୨୧ percy was ecstatic about meeting another child of the big three— but you’re absolute resting bitch face scared the shit out of him

୨୧ but when he finally talked to you he realized your personalities wasn’t half as bad as your appearance (not that he thought your appearance was bad— you were gorgeous but horrifying)

୨୧ anyways I wanna do dating hcs now

୨୧ sarcastic 🤝🏼 even more sarcastic

୨୧ IMAGINE LMAO

୨୧ with both you and percy and you’re insane sarcasm you’d be unstoppable, truly. like just talking shit about people all the time I can’t 😭

“oh my gods she’s just the nicest person I’ve ever met!”

“right? so happy and bubbly!”

୨୧ en e ways…

୨୧ I’m not sure if this is just my opinion and it’s probably not cannon but hades kids (along with the apollo kids) have the best relationship with their godly parent so your visits to the underworld are frequent

୨୧ you ended up bringing percy once without realizing the issue your dad had with him

୨୧ long story short he’s not allowed to visit with you anymore

୨୧ and when you take your trips down under percy begs you not to go claiming your dad is such ‘an awful god!’ and he ‘would miss you and cry himself to sleep’ if you left

୨୧ dramatic much?

୨୧ anyways I don’t wanna yap too much but I have more more thing I want to say really quickly is double dates with nico and will because how cute would that be 😣😣

୨୧ I feel like overtime you would make them like every wednesday or something like a weekly thing idk just for funsies

୨୧ but I’ll wrap this up now 10/10 relationship would definitely recommend <33

[thelastofhyde]

ii. santorini.

pairing. tourguide!joel miller x fem!reader. series synopsis. on the brink of undergoing a life-altering change, you runaway from your problems in the only way any sane person can: embarking on a mediterranean cruise. there you meet joel miller, a grumpy, private tour-guide, who just so happens to be tasked with touring you through each stop on your cruise. from greek goddesses to roman ruins, you have ten days to avoid your fate. maybe a frowning, southern, sex-on-legs of a man is just what the doctor ordered. chapter summary. tensions are high as you and joel spend your first day together exploring the popular island of santorini. back on the boat, joel gets a glimpse at more than he bargained for. series warnings. no use of y/n, set in 2015, no apocalypse au, cruise!au, rom-com, enemies-ish to lovers, tour-guide!joel, unspecified age gap, depictions/discussions of grief, angst, fluff, a whole load of smut, a lot of cheesy stereotypical romance tropes bc i just wanna see joel not suffer ( too much ) <3 chapter warnings. mild smut ( female masturbation, mentions of oral sex + piv sex ), bickering, alcohol, mild angst, so much cheese it'll turn you lactose intolerant!! btw joel hates santorini and he makes that known, but none of his opinions reflect my own ( please don't be mean to me over things characters say <33 ) word count. 7.9k hyde’s input. the majority of this chapter was written with a mixture of medicine flowing through my veins, it's a miracle it's even intelligible. apologies for the wait, the holidays and health issues got in the way <3 as always, i hope you enjoy, comments an dreblogs are always appreciated !! previous chapter - next chapter - series masterlist

It is a known fact that your name and late rarely exist within the same sentence.

The mere thought of being late fills you with a sickness you cannot cure. The extremes you’ll go to avoid it know no bounds. From arriving four hours before a flight, to waiting in your car a whole hour before entering a lecture hall, adulthood is a phase in which you’d sworn to repair the damage of a childhood worth of not arriving late.

Late to school, late to birthday parties, late to dentist appointments.

It wasn’t that you were a particularly difficult child, running rampant around the house as your mother tried to dress you, or your father tried to feed you. Quite the contrary, really. Often, it was little-you who chased around after them, and who waited by the door, school bag in hand, tapping your foot with every second that ticked by on the clock. You were too young and hadn’t the ability nor the empathy to understand that your parents were held up with sorting through things directly influenced by your existence, like cleaning up the messes you left at the breakfast table, or fixing the doorknob you and your sister broke in an intense game of hide and seek.

Nowadays, you can count on one hand the times you’ve been late.

First, you were late to your own surprise birthday party, but that was down to you getting stuck an extra hour at work. It was out of your control.

Then, there’d been your graduation ceremony. Your father missed an exit and ended up taking you on a mystery tour of the city, trying to find the next turn that led to your campus. Again, out of your control.

The third time is the one you remember panicking over the most, knee bouncing uncontrollably with nerves as you sat squeezed between two strangers on a plane. Your sister, barely halfway through her third trimester, had gone into labour, and where were you? Stumbling around drunk on a private beach in Cancún, mumbling along to the lyrics of some early 2000s classic you forget the name of. Your niece, all 4 and a half pounds of her, had decided now was her time to shine and there was nothing, not even the 4 weeks she had yet to grow in utero, that was going to stop her. By the time you arrived, mascara smudged eyes and with the stench of tequila still on your skin, she was laying peacefully in her incubator, the tiniest little fingers clenched into fists and a name tag around her wrist. This too was out of your control.

But the fourth time you’re late, as you stride urgently across the wooden decking of the ship, weaving in and out of lounge chairs and polo-neck wearing crew members, it’s completely within your control.

Yet, it’s not entirely your fault.

An alarm that never went off. A game of hide-and-seek with your purse. An unfortunate slip on bathroom tiles adding another bruise to your knees. An elevator that refused to travel faster than the speed of a snail. It’s as though Lady Luck had set out in favour of being against you, doing her utmost to ensure you arrive exactly seven minutes past your deadline. His deadline.

Best be on the deck by 7 am, darlin’, or I’m dockin’ without ya.

Your head whips from one side to another, eyes finding a familiar figure amongst the few passengers meeting their own private guides. It’s the same man from yesterday, out on the balcony, the memory of him cheering his champagne and shooting a tipsy smile your way replaying. Only now he’s clad in plaid, with a frown etched into his forehead as he stares at his watch. There’s another man, hanging off his arm, fusing with the collar of his shirt.

“She’s late,” you overhear him say, voice firm and leaking with annoyance.

“Maybe she just slept in!” The man next to him is cheerier, tired eyes full of optimism, even as he turns his head and stifles a yawn. “Give her a few minutes.”

“What kind of shitty tour guide sleeps in?” Balcony-Man huffs, and you can’t help but think of your niece and her pouty face whenever she fails to get her own way. “Does she think I’d not rather be asleep too? Lazy c-”

“See? This is why I told you to eat that damn croissant before we left.” The taller of them seems to snap, rolling his eyes. “Brighten up, Bill, or so help me God you’ll be leaving this boat a divorcee.”

Trying to tune their voices out, as the guilt of prying crawls its way into your bones, your gaze points down at your feet. The very same heels you’d worn last night, pretty as they may leave you, have you cursing at the Sun and the Moon. If you’d have just worn your sneakers, maybe you could have ran up the stairs instead of taking the snail-evator.

Joel, tour guide, Signore Miller’s voice- though your imagination can’t quite reach his level of arrogance- rears its irritating head through your mind, recalling his words from last night. Wear somethin’ a little more… practical. That had been enough to awaken that stubborn mule inside of you, hell-bent on proving him wrong.

But now, late, and with him nowhere in sight, your heels seem to have had the opposite effect. They’ve proved him right.

Which leaves you here, moping so pathetically you’re incapable of appreciating the shine of a rising sun over the horizon of aqua blue water.

Five minutes, you decide. That’s how long you’ll allow yourself to dwell in self-pity. Then, you’ll trek your way over to the Excelsior lounge, hit up the breakfast buffet, and await the general disembarking time.

Who knows, maybe you’ll get a call to say there’s a miraculous spot opened up on one of the tour groups.

If not, you’ll be fine! You’ve travelled alone before, you’ve got an all-inclusive data plan on your phone and you’re pretty well-acquainted with the less-than-accommodating features of Google Maps. You don’t need help, or a tour guide, much less one as blood-boiling, skin-prickling, irritating as Joel Mil-

“Wasn’t sure how ya like your coffee, but you look like a milk, two sugars kind of girl to me.”

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Or, in this case, think of him.

Turning a little too fast, you stumble a step or two back, and, sure enough, there he is. A tight fitting, dark grey t-shirt stretched over the swell of his biceps, a pair of washed-out denims, and two well-worn running shoes, one on each foot. Trailing up the swell of his tanned neck, you count the freckles up to his eyes, and find there’s bags under them. The growth of hair on his face is just as unkempt as yesterday, yet already it seems to have grown longer, making the litter of greys stand out more. The hair that sits atop his head is damp, and the strands that have managed to dry are being messed around by the morning air. He’s still got that ever-present frown stamped into his forehead, yet his mouth doesn’t seem to curl into a snarl as he calls your name.

You must stare a moment or two past his comfort level, for he clears his throat and nods down at his hand. Two to-go cups, the smallest streams of steam floating out the hole in each lid.

He’s extending one out- the one in his right hand- towards you. “If you’d rather black, you can take min-”

“No!” You snap back into your own body, all too quickly and all too volatile. Clear your throat, and then try again, this time with a little less of that im being held at gunpoint shake in your voice. “No… Thank you. It’s fine- Milk is fine.”

It’s more than fine.

In fact, he’s gotten it spot on. Down to the number of sugars you take.

But, still stubborn, you yearn to not give him the satisfaction of being right so early in the day, and instead settle for accepting the coffee out his hand. You welcome the golden warmth eagerly, eyes unable to resist slipping shut as you take your first sip. When they reopen, you find Joel watching you, intently. Purposefully, as though you’re something to be studied.

Clearing your throat, you glance to the side and spot Balcony-Man and his partner greeting an apologetic woman.

“Thanks for the, uh,” his stare is intimidating your nerves, setting you on edge of something you’re all to eager to jump off. “Coffee. Yeah. You didn’t have to… I mean, I actually thought you’d, you know, uh-”

“You thought I left without ya.” He states. All you can do is nod. “I could’ve. I did warn you not to be late.”

“You did.”

“I also told you to wear somethin’ other than them heels.”

“I know.”

“Yet here you are, late and in heels. You’re not very good at following orders.” He exhales something akin to a chuckle, as devoid of humour as it may be, and you swear he’s suddenly closer than you remember, knuckles brushing against your own as he bumps his paper cup against yours. “Just what am I gonna do with ya, huh?”

For a moment, you swear your heart has leaped from your chest and up to your throat, threatening to choke you with the beat of it. There’s no sense you can make of it, this reaction he rouses, a heat you can’t control creeping down your loins as you drag in a whiff of some manly cologne, the kind you’d usually turn your nose up at for being too overbearing. Yet, on him, it’s not. On him it’s just right, like he was born with pine soaked skin, and a tobacco stained kiss, and-

Before you can think of pulling in another breath, Joel’s stepped back, allowing a cool breeze to pass between you and get a hold of your senses.

“C’mon, we’re slotted in for the first tender that leaves for shore.”

“Oh my God.”

You’re half certain Joel’s growing sick of hearing those three words roll off your tongue. He’s likely felt this way since it first left your mouth, feet struggling to safely step out onto the dock as your mind became enchanted by the picturesque view in front of you. Only the burn of his hand meeting your lower back, nudging you ahead to make space for himself and the other passengers to step off the tender boat, was capable of dragging you back into your own body, the wanderlust that had gripped your soul yearning to be free to explore every building that sits carved into rock, every water-taxi that flows idly on cristaline water, every step that winds up and up and up the island’s cliff where, at the top, civilisation seems to lie.

The port you’ve docked on is rather small, with naught more than two docking strips and a walkway of shops and confection stands, with boats that find no space along the docking strips tying themselves to any safety they may find over the expanse of the walkway. It is no wonder the cruise floats safely out in deeper waters, alongside several other cruise lines, with no space for such large vessels. And, yet, the port is alive with something. The ground seems to pulse, like a beat of a heart, and the air, as fresh as the grass after heavy rainfall, almost dances its way down your lungs. Voices swim all around you, tourists scrambling past each other, fighting in a race towards something you’ve yet to identify.

“So this is Gialos, also known as the Old Port of Fira.” Somewhere, behind you perhaps, Joel’s voice pipes up, a speech so rehearsed and robotic, a part of your wonders how many times he’s recited it, how many people he’s recited it to. The other part of you, however, is much too fixated on the stairs ahead to pay him true attention, eyes following as two men and several donkeys descend. “That, up there, is Fira, the capital of Santorini. We’re going to need to take a cable- Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes!” You’re quick to react, a defensive rise in your voice. He meets it with a deadpan look and the crossing of his arms over his chest, which quickly becomes something you wish he wouldn’t do as you watch the tight fabric of his shirt stretch itself thin over the bulge of his arms. “No. Sorry, I’m just… Wow.”

You hope he appreciates the restraint you show towards repeating those three dreaded words again.

“You have all day to stare,” his words trip over his own irritated scoff, and you bite back a question of why he’s a guide if he seems to hate it so much, fearful he’s too honest to not tell you a truth that may hurt your fragile feelings. A truth where it is not so much his job he dislikes, but rather, your presence and all that it brings. “Right now, we need to move. Don’t wanna spend all day waitin’ in line now, do ya?”

This need for speed that hooks the other tourists seems to filter over into your guide, who’s forcing you forward, that heat of his palm now hovering inches away from your lower back. It’s enough to lead you where he pleases. As a pair, you weave in and out small clusters of people, till the space between you both and the large gathering crowd slowly diminishes. It is there where his once telepathic leading fails, with Joel turning left towards it as you stray right, over to the ascending pathway of stairs.

“Where are you going?” His tone is offended, almost, as he comes to a halt and watches you fail to do the same, to notice the space between you both and correct it like some puppy who’s been called to heel by its master.

“Where am I going?” The question, at first, is one you mistake as rhetorical. Staring back at him with an equaled confusion, you gesture to the stairway, as though it is the most obvious answer. Because, well, where else could you have been heading? He said so himself, that up there is Fira, the capital of Santorini, and you’ll be damned if you don’t get to see it. “Where are you going?”

“To the cable cars, that’ll take us up the island.”

Above the crowd of people, hanging over doors of small businesses, lay several signs. CABLE CARS - 6€ ! stands out, impossible to miss. Symbols you scarcely recognise sit beneath it, in smaller text, and you assume it’s Greek. In the distance, you spy the movement of the mobile boxes, people being carted up the length of the cliff at a speed that promises them a journey of mere minutes.

“Oh.” So, perhaps his option makes more sense than your own far longer, more tiring one. Still, stubborn as a mule, you double down on your decision to take the scenic route, inching closer towards the first step. Your guide, still in the face, refuses to move, daring eyes willing you to continue. “You want us to take the lazy man’s route? You go ahead, I’ll take the stairs and meet you at the top.”

You press one foot up onto the first step, weary of where you rest the point of your heel.

Glancing a few steps further up, there’s the unmistakable sight of a mound of brown substance, no doubt excreted out of one of the donkeys that walk ahead, tourists mounted on their poor backs.

“I don’t think you understand,” he finally inches closer, if only slightly, hands clenched at his side. “There’s five hundred and eighty-eight steps until you reach the top.”

The number is more daunting than you expect, and you pray he can’t read this on your face. “Only? I’ll be up in no time then!”

You feel more than see the way Joel’s eyes travel down the expanse of you, stuttering almost over the curvature of your chest, the dips at your hips, till they rest at your feet. The question hangs loose between you, unspoken yet evident.

In those heels?

“Listen, Joel,” taking a second, third, and fourth step, you aim for a literal higher ground, staring down below as he continues to drift closer and closer towards the stairway. “If you’re not fit for the task, or the climb’s no good for your knees, you can just say it, there’s no shame. Like I said, I’ll meet you at the top. Promise I won’t even report the fact my private guide abandoned me in favour of his own comfort.”

Defeat has never come easy.

Well, to phrase it better towards the truth, acceptance of defeat has never come easy.

There was always something more to be said, another excuse to be given for any of your shortcomings. When you’d been turned away from the school’s soccer team, you’d told yourself it was because you were a girl- ignoring the fact three girls in your year made the cut. When you’d lost an arduous game of Monopoly, you’d sworn you’d caught your sister sneaking notes out of the banker’s pile into her own. When you’d been beaten, round after round, by your own niece at Mario Kart, you’d stuck your tongue out at her and told her you let her win out of pity.

All that had been before, of course, back when you still roamed school hallways, when your sister sat across from you at the dining table, when your niece still laughed freely, wildly, celebrating her own victories with an over-the-top, uncoordinated dance around the living room.

As changed as things may be, defeat is still your foe.

It is that reason alone that you bite back a complaint.

You’d enjoyed the initial moments of your trek. Maybe it was the salty air in your lungs, or the beautiful views of your surroundings, or the idle grumbling coming from Joel, a few paces behind you, kicking up dirt under his feet with every step he travelled up. Whatever the reason, adrenaline had been flowing, into your heart and through your veins, covering every square inch of your body, a tingling of nerves from the tip of your toes to the top of your spine.

But, by the 10 minute mark, a dull ache forms in your feet. Each step of your heel feels more life threatening than the last, as the stairs grow slippier, dustier, and well-worn the further up you advanced. By stair who-knows-how-may, you take a near fatal tumble backwards, the crunch of crumbling rock threatening to be the last thing you hear. Till he appears behind you, fast as light, huffing out a breath as you smack down against his solid chest.

“Mind your step.” From anyone else, you would mistake it as a sign of care. From Joel, you know better than to think it’s anything beyond a humourless taunt.

You try to keep count of the steps, from then on, an effort to motivate yourself to move faster with each ten-pace you count. By 50, you lose your place and begin counting all over again.

The journey is difficult in other ways, too, with the constant passing of donkeys who obligate you to stand aside and make way for them. And the distant movement of cable cars, firing up and sliding down more times than you can keep track of.

When a particular step proves itself too steep, you can no longer hold back and, finally, a hiss slips out between your clenched teeth as pain shoots up your ankle, the leather of your shoe rubbing even harder into your brittle skin, threatening the promise of a blister yet to fully swell. Pushing the pain down, alongside a complaint, you take another step. Hiss. Then another, hiss. You can fight it no longer, bending at the waist to slip off your heel and examine the irritated skin.

Sure enough, it’s been rubbed raw, broken and spilling a small pool of blood.

Behind you comes an exasperated groan and, before you can straighten yourself to even register what’s happening, Joel barges past you and the figure of him up ahead slowly diminishes the faster he climbs up hill.

“Hey!” You call after him, hobbling to slip your shoe back on, but it’s to no avail.

He’s long gone, growing further and further out of your reach with each passing minute.

Cursing him under your breath, you decide to hell with the no complaints of his preferred regard for his own comfort. He’s abandoned you, injured and hobbling up the steps, all because he has the patience of a toddler who’s been waiting far too long to go potty.

“Wear somethin’ a little more sensible…” You’re bound to seem deranged to any passers by, half hopping up the steps, mumbling to yourself in a mockery of his deep voice “Yeah, right, how bout I shove somethin’ a little more sensible up your ass. Oh, what’s that? There’s no room up there with the massive stick you’re already carryin-”

“A local man warned me bout ya, on my way back down. Said there was some no-good girl casting out bad juju.” You freeze, foot stopped in mid-air. Shifting your gaze up ahead, you find Joel there, skipping a step every so often as he grows closer and closer. At his side, dangling from two fingers, sits a plastic bag. “Told him it ain’t no juju or curses you’re casting, just throwin’ a little tantrum.”

Like a fish out of water, all you can do is stare at him, wide eyes and mouth agape.

Joel pays your silence no mind, almost delighting in it. With a pop and a crack from his knees, he crouches down before you, holding out the palm of his hand.

“C’mon,” he mutters, pointing towards your injured foot. “Lemme see.”

You’re hesitant, at first, but ultimately lift it and let him curl his grip around it, holding you in place as the shoe slips off you. A tut meets your ears as his eyes meet the bloodied mess, and you watch how he contemplates, for a moment or two, before wetting his thumb with his tongue and swiping it over your broken skin.

It stings, like salt in a wound or a bee’s stinger through skin, and you try to flinch back, retract yourself from his hold. But Joel’s strong, resilient, nails biting at the flesh of your ankle to keep you in place. His free hand digs into the plastic bag he’d discarded at his side and pulls out a white box. Fiddling with it for a short period, he manages to open it at last and slips out a bandaid. He rips that open a lot quicker, using his teeth, and slips it over your open wound perfectly, thumb and pointer finger smoothing it around the curve of your heel.

“D’ya see now why I told you to not wear those things?” You feel like a child at his words, reprimanded like you once were for touching your mother’s curling iron. “And why I said we should take the cable car?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you refuse to meet his eyes. But he just won’t let you be, craning his own neck to infiltrate the space you stare off into. There’s a pleased look on his face, smugness pulling at the right corner of his mouth. Alarmingly, you think of how it’s the closest you’ve gotten to seeing him smile.

You continue your pursuit of silence, repeating a mantra of how you don’t care that he’d tried to look out for your comfort, or how he’d then tried to save you the effort of an uphill battle, or how his hand, big and warm and rough at the fingertips, is still holding your foot in place, absentmindedly rubbing your ankle in a circular motion.

“Look at ya, gone all quiet on me,” that corner of his lip curls higher. You register the rustling of the bag, his hand digging back inside it. “Ain’t one for bein’ put in your place, are you?”

Out comes his hand once more, though this time it’s not a box of bandaids. Now, resting firm in his grasp, sits a mixture of navy blue dyed cotton, stitched atop a flat, thick layer of a straw-like material. A slip-on canvas shoe. Joel doesn’t await permission, nor does he even ask for it. He simply takes charge, slipping it onto your foot, mindful as he straightens out the back to lay against your heel.

“Other foot, up.”

Switching feet, you stumble as your weight completely shifts onto your injured side. Your hands, reaching out to stabilise your swaying body, are quickly directed by his own to rest atop his head, curls of brown threading between your fingers. You contemplate asking what products he uses to achieve locks so smooth and shiny, then rethink it as soon as you imagine his reply of a disinterested grunt and a snarky ain’t use anythin’ but dirt water and a splash o’ whiskey.

“How’s it feel?”

Soft, you almost reply, then realise he’s asking about the shoe.

With a wiggle of your toes, you tell him it’s fine, and leave it at that. He doesn’t need to know they’re surprisingly comfortable.

Joel rises with a bit of a struggle, yet refuses the help you offer. Rough hands scoop up your discarded heels, tossing them into the bag, and then he straightens his back, lets out a noise of discomfort, before nodding up ahead.

“C’mon, only got a hundred or so to go. We’ll be up in no time.”

The sun sits high in the sky when you reach the city of Fira.

Crossing over that last step, 588 painted in white across it, you huff out a sigh, exhaustion aching you out of any enjoyment of your victory over the stairway from hell. Before you can even utter a word of your thirst, Joel is already reaching into his bag of wonders, unscrewing the lid off a bottle of water and passing it to you. Grateful, you take a sip, and lament the few drops that spill down your chin.

At least they don’t go to complete waste, cooling your skin ever so slightly.

It’s a shame to see Joel start moving again, moments before you’re even ready to gain back your breath, but you follow after him, nonetheless, mindful to not press your foot too hard down. Through streets he winds, past shopkeepers he walks. Eventually, after a few minutes, you ask him where you’re both heading.

“To catch a coach,” his hand moves quickly, tugging you closer as a bicycle shoots past behind you. Your own find themselves against his chest, and realise it is nothing like his hair. Solid, warm, wide. It’s almost a shame to lower them back down to your side. “Less you think you can walk from here to Oia, too.”

Truth be told, you don’t know where Oia is.

But you do know your walking for the day is over, happy to follow Joel onto the coach. You take the aisle seat, he’s by the window. Across from you both sits a couple, young and giggling into one another’s ears, as though the sounds of their joy is sacred to none but them. A pang of envy thumps your soul, and you quickly turn your face.

Only to find that Joel’s is grey.

Not the hair that lines it but, rather, his whole face, paled and blood-drained. It’s a sickly image, and one that’s quick to get your heart racing.

“Are you okay?” Any thought of keeping your composure becomes mute as you hear your own voice, a treacherous shake to it that gives your panic away. “You look…” There is no word kind enough for you to use to relay the image of him, so you lock your lips.

It takes a few seconds for you to get a reply, as your hand moves up to feel his forehead. It’s sweaty, warm, and you move to pull your hand back when he’s holding it firm in place, eyes slipping shut. “‘S cold. You’re cold,” seems to be his explanation. “I’m fine, it’s just- Carsick.”

“You get carsick, yet you work on a cruise.”

“Not the same. Ship’s big, somethin’ bout the size and my own visibility, ‘s what stops me getting seasick.”

You sit like that the rest of the coach, your hand pressed to his forehead, his eyes slipped shut.

“What’s your favourite stop on the cruise?”

As it turns out, Oia is exactly what you’d pictured Santorini to be.

White washed houses, deep blue domes for rooftops, turquoise waters, all for as far as the eye can see. Joel complains, more than tells you, of the rise in tourism over the years, of how it’s turned the beautiful village into a party-town for idiots abroad, disregarding the clean environment, shamelessly blocking paths to snap a frame-worthy shot, raising prices to the ceiling. When you ask him if he thinks he’s in part to blame, if people like him are to blame- running tours, bringing guests onto the island, earning a wage off the visiting of such a place- he grumbles out something about missing breakfast, needing lunch.

So you find a cafe. Or, more, Joel leads you to one. He greets the doorman, with a wave and a pat on the back, before sauntering his way through to a back terrace, overlooking the whole village, the water perfectly framing it. Stepping out and sitting down, the view robs the very breath out of your lungs.

It’s like sitting inside a postcard.

Joel asks if you like Greek food.

You tell him you’ve never had it.

He orders for you both, a mixture of different plates, and swears he’ll find something you’ll like.

It turns out you’re rather fond of baklava.

“Florence.” Joel’s taken his time to answer, staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. Disbelief more than fear in his eyes, you have to wonder if it’s the first time someone’s thought to ask him, in all his years as a guide. Naturally, this leads you to wondering how many years that is. “It’s a real site. Full of history, a real story to be told.” He tilts a ceramic dish your way, eyes glancing down in an offering. You follow them, and spot olives. Shake your head, no, then smile, thanks. He shrugs, more for me, and pops two into his mouth. “There’s this…” he pauses to chew. “This library.”

“A library?”

“‘S not just a library.” He slips out the olive’s pip and raises another into his mouth. You try not to think about how thick his fingers look, rolling the remaining briny green pebbles around in the pot. “There’s a cinema built inside it. Plays some classic films. I always- or, I try to go whenever we dock.”

It’s hard to picture Joel inside a cinema, something about the setting too busy, too loud to place his scowling face in. Would he be the kind to have a favourite seat, perfectly picked to optimise the sound quality? Does he speak animatedly, excited any time he recognises an actor? Or is he a shusher, the kind to roll his eyes when someone dares to even clear their throat?

A part of you wants to ask him if your tour involves a trip to this library.

Something tells you it’s not a place he likes to share, though. It’s his own little corner, safe to sneak a moment of selfish indulgence amidst a week of catering to another’s needs.

“A cinema inside a library?” A waiter interrupts you, asks if everything’s alright. Joel orders another serving of baklava. “Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron?”

“Yeah.” For a moment, you think you see a smile creep across his lips. “Suppose it is.”

Another interruption comes in the form of your ringtone, rippling the water in your glass as your phone vibrates upon the table. You’re well aware of how Joel spots the word Mum displayed across your screen. Just like you’re aware he sees how you swipe down on your screen and switch on aeroplane mode.

Before he can ask any questions, or the sudden silence can become too deafening, you throw out another question. “And your least favourite?”

“Least favourite stop?” You nod, affirmative, and he needs no time to reply. “Here.”

“Here?! How come?”

The baklava arrives, as if on cue, and you point down at it, as though it is reason enough to be enamoured with the island. It seems to do little to convince him, his hand reaching out to push the plate closer to you, inviting you to indulge yourself.

“Compared to the other stops, Santorini’s bland.” He says it when your mouth is too occupied to protest, stuffed full with layer after layer of pastry. “Kind of like a diamond, y’know? Real pretty to look at, empties your wallet, and, at the end of the day, ain’t much you can do with it.”

“People propose with diamonds.” You point out, and cough as a flake of pastry hits the back of your throat.

Joel’s already passing you your glass of water before you even think to reach for it.

“People propose with rings. Diamonds are just custom, not a guarantee.”

Sunset arrives with no warning, a hue of fiery orange melting down into the calm waters on the horizon. It’s Joel who makes the call to head back, one glance at his watch enough to tell you the last chance to catch a coach is nigh. It’s only as you go to call for the bill that he tells you it’s covered and you realise his earlier trip to the bathroom had been a ruse to go pay.

The trip back is calmer, quieter, with the coach full of sunkissed and heat exhausted tourists.

Again, you take the aisle seat, and Joel, the window.

Keeping an eye on him is easy, switching your gaze towards the approaching darkness of the night sky calling upon the street lights anytime he meets your eyes. When you notice the increase in breaths and the paling of his skin, you wordlessly unscrew the cap off a bottle and slot it into his hand, inviting him to finish off the last sips of your water.

Skipping out on a trip down memory stairway, you quietly follow him into the cable car and, when you reach the Old Port, you try your best to block out his smug remark of how easy and fast the ride was. A feat which becomes easier as you stumble halfway up the dock and turn back.

Like hours before, as you first stepped off the tender, your mouth falls agape. Only, this time, wider. The view of the island lit up in all its glory is enough to leave you breathless, hands scrambling to fish out your phone, open the camera and-

“You gettin’ on or what?” Joel calls out from behind, and you find him waiting on board one of the tenders, hand held out towards you.

It’s a demand, more than it is an offer, to hurry up. The collective of other passengers are watching the interaction, and a feeling you’ve come to know all too well crawls its way into your veins.

A burden, holding them all up, that’s what you are.

The feeling follows you back, as you slip into a damp seat and watch as the boat carries you further and further from the island, it’s lights twinkling in a way that chokes you up, drains you out, eyes stinging from more than just the salty air. You’ll love it, I swear! The memory plays out in your head, those words gushed at you. Hands squeezing your cheeks, a smile blinding you under its brightness. Just wait till you see it at night, the lights shine over it like stars!

You blink.

A tear pools at the corner of your eye.

“Here, look,” something nudges you. It’s Joel, inching his phone into your view. Through blurred sight, you glance at it. And find yourself, centre frame, lit only by the moon. In the back lies the whole skyline of Santorini, lights reflecting down onto the waters below. “Best view you can get, the whole island in one shot.”

Afraid to hear your own voice, you smile.

He answers by pointing his phone back at you, snapping another photo.

Back on the cruise, the two of you part ways, with Joel telling you to meet him in the same bar, same time as the night before.

Dinner had been part of your plans. With a glance over the listed restaurants on board, the ache in your tired bones asks you to stay in bed and make use of the room service. You listen, order something light, easy. It arrives in under 10 minutes and your hunger is satisfied sitting out on the balcony, watching the dark waves roll past.

Phoning your mother is the next port o'call.

Unlike with your food, that takes longer than 10 minutes. Much longer, and involves you countlessly reassuring her that yes, you’re okay, and no, you don’t need her to fly out and meet you in Naples.

“I’m a big girl,” you even throw in a laugh, hoping it’ll ease the worry lines you can picture splayed over your mother’s face. “I think I can climb up a mountain without my mum’s help.”

“Honey, you know that’s not what why I’m worri-”

“Did you know you can get carsick but, at the same time, not seasick?”

You hang up shortly after, with a promise to try your best to answer when she calls tomorrow, instead of hours later, when she should be fast asleep.

The time on your phone tells you there’s still forty minutes until you need to meet Joel. The image of that grandiose bathtub flashes before your eyes and, in record timing, you’re sinking into scalding waters, a complimentary bath bomb dumped in and granting you the childish gift of bubbles.

You try to relax, at first.

There’s no need to wet your hair, so you indulge yourself. Lay your head back, close your eyes. Feel your muscles loosen with the warmth, ignore the sting of soap in your blistering heel. Your hands struggle to find a resting place, until they meet your thighs. They sit still, for a moment or two, before one slips down, inching into the crease of where your legs meet.

Something stirs in your core, comes alive as you think of how long it’s been since you last felt someone. A few months, it has to be. A fellow graduate, if you remember correctly, that stupid robe still on his shoulders as he let his mouth come down on you.

Your hand is soon on your core, before you really notice, mind on a mission to recall the hazy encounter. When you think of his tongue, messy yet eager, your finger’s already on your clit, pressing against it with a tease of pleasure. When you think of his cock, uncut and thicker than your ex, splitting you open on his bedroom floor, your hips cant up against yourself, chasing friction. When you rewind how soft Joel’s hair had been between your fingers, your free hand grips one of your breasts, fingers pinching at your nipple.

Your eyes snap open.

Joel’s hair.

Joel.

Something you should not be thinking of right now, hand buried between your thighs.

You wait a few seconds, remind yourself of the graduate’s face.

His blue eyes, your fingers roll over your nipple.

His blonde hair, your legs spread wider.

Joel’s solid chest, your fingers dip inside your cunt.

Your breath is shaky, Joel’s annoyed groan echoes.

The shame of it, of thinking of him, is almost as tantalising as touching yourself, fucking your own hole full with as much of your fingers the angle will allow. It’s a one time thing, you justify. You just need to get it out your system. One and done, cum and done. No more of Joel Miller between your thighs, this is the closest he’ll get.

Someone knocks at your door.

You nearly miss it over the sound of your breathing, the pounding of your heart.

“Who is it?” You don’t like how weak you sound, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Another knock.

“Can I come in?”

A hand still between your thighs, orgasm titering on the edge, body fully submerged in lukewarm water. “No!”

“Ain’t safe to leave your door unlocked. Anybody could walk in- Jesus!”

You’ve never screamed louder.

Joel takes up most of the bathroom doorway, same clothes save for the shirt that’s got two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. You’re pressed right back into the bathtub, as physically far from him as you can get, knees pressed up to your chest, ankles crossed over.

In Joel’s defence, he’s quick to turn away, presenting you with a view of his back. A hand runs through his hair.

“Why are you in my room?!” You inch even further back, the water suddenly dropping several degrees.

“I asked to come in!”

“And I told you not to!”

“Well obviously I didn’t hear that!”

“Why are you in my room?” You’re back to your first question, eyeing up your towel.

It’s across the room, on the bathroom sink. No way for you to reach it without the risk of him seeing you reflected on something.

“You were late. Came to check if ya tripped on them heels and broke your neck.”

“I,” you’re not sure what time it is with your phone sitting by the bed, charging. That's now five times you've been late in adulthood. “Didn’t realise the time. I can meet you at the bar in ten minutes.”

He nods, and you watch him take a step, then immediately pause. “You know, I’ve heard a few things from passengers…” You may not see his face, but you swear there’s that half-smirk, smug look upon it. It’s practically dripping off his words. “The shower head, fourth setting. Seems to get the job done for most ladies on board.”

Grabbing the closest thing in reach- a bar of soap- you launch it and watch it bounce off his irritatingly wide shoulders. “Get OUT!”

You make it to the Tipsy Byson in 15 minutes.

Dressed more appropriately than the night before, your flared jeans and crop top garner less stares. It’s just as busy, if not busier, yet it’s not hard to spot Joel on a barstool, nursing a glass of something syrupy looking. Behind the bar is Luke, head thrown back at something Joel says.

They’re an interesting pair to observe, you realise as you make your way over. With Luke, so tall, so lanky, so bright-face, his energy warm and inviting, and Joel so- well, Joel.

“There she is,” Luke cheers, a little too loudly, calling attention to you as you slip into the stool next to Joel. “My new favourite customer.”

“Thought I was your favourite,” Joel’s yet to look at you, and it’s a relief. He’s looked at you enough for one day, one week, one lifetime.

“Sorry but she smells better than you, Joel,” the barman winks at you, a cheeky grin on his face. “ Plus, she’s a hell of a lot nicer to look at.”

Joel scoffs, you giggle.

“Not sure about the whole smelling better thing,” your response comes minutes later, after Luke’s already served you a glass of wine and turned away your cash, telling you he’ll put it on Joel’s tab. “But thanks!”

Unprompted and uninvited, Luke bends over the bar and takes an exaggerated sniff. “I don’t know, smell alright to me.”

“Really? I’m not even wearing perfume, I forgot to pack any-.”

“Yeah! Go on Joel, give her a whiff, tell her she smells fine!” There’s resistance on his end, but Luke’s adamant, hand clamped on the back of Joel’s head, shoving him face first into your neck. Joel’s nose brushes against you. You hear him inhale. Exhale. Inhale again, then the urge to cross your thighs begins to nag at you. “Well?”

“Yeah, smells nice- Fine. Ya smell fine.”

“Be still my beating heart! Someone alert the press that Texas said something other than-”

Joel interrupts Luke’s dramatics, scowl on his face. “Don’t you have a job to be doin’?”

Only once the bartender is down the other end of the bar, engrossed in a heated discussion over what beer pulls a better head, does Joel speak again, sipping on his drink. Whiskey.

“So I noticed somethin’, when I was checking your bookin’ info.” You nod, urge him to continue, and take a sip of your own drink. Some country song plays over the speakers and you notice a sudden shake in Joel’s knee, his foot tapping to the beat. “Says there should be two of you in my guide team.”

“Oh,” the lump forming in your throat falls safely back into the pit of your stomach as you take another drink of wine. “Must be a printing error. You know how technology can be, always complicating things.”

“Hmm,” it’s easy to write off the awkward energy between you with the excuse of earlier events, and it’s the first bright-side you find to him walking in on your intimate bath. “Well, you know the drill for tomorrow. 7 am on that deck or I’m-”

“Docking without me, I know.”

You finish your drink first. When Joel orders himself another glass, you smile politely and turn it down. Yawn, then tell him you best head to bed.

Before you can slip out the entry, someone calls your last name. Loud enough to turn more than just your own head.

It’s Joel, approaching you, effortlessly parting crowds through the lively bar as though he is knife and, the people, butter. The loud music seems to ring louder in your ear, impeding you from hearing the words that leave his moving lips.

“What?” You call out, hands clasped over your mouth in an attempt to amplify the volume of your voice.

His response is to step closer, hands holding you in place by the waist as he leans down. A hot breath on your neck, the smell of whiskey on his breath, the soft brush of lips against your ear.

“It’s your turn to bring the coffees.”

series taglist. @auteurdelabre

[papil0nglegs]

What about the mercs with a fem SO that talks in brainrot sometimes? Would really want medic in there but it's up to you!

Mercs x Brainrot!Reader

A/n: WHY IS THE TF2 FANDOM SO OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA? 😭 I SAW ANOTHER FIC ABT THIS AND TWO REQUESTS ASKING FOR THIS PLS

warnings: Brainrot.. a lot of images being used, it’s a shit post who cares tbh

Scout

He’s into it too

Guys it’s scout

“Scout ilysm ur so nonchalant <33”

“Thanks babe ^^ I know I’m pretty alpha”

(Oh btw the alpha thing isn’t a joke he unironically listens to alpha male podcasts)

In the middle of spy’s serious moments you’d both lip sync ‘you are my sunshine’ to each other when he’s not looking

“what the bloody hell are you guys doing..”

“…perhaps itz a coping mechanizm zince scout doesn’t have a father?”

Medic really had to take it there

The ‘fatherless child’ meme was a coping mechanism for him tho

“I’m a fatherless child, of course I have abandonment issues”

“Um babe? Idk if you should joke abt that 😚”

“Na it just makes me more sigma”

You guys love to fuck with the blu team sm with your shenanigans, esp sniper!!

Scout would have his bat and you would have whatever weapon you have with you and yell “skibidi” before jumping him

Here’s something he DEFINITELY didn’t learn from you 💯

creds to urwhouchoose2b on Tik tok

Engineer

He tries so hard to understand

Whenever you show him a meme he does the classic old person holding phone away from eyes thing

Yk the

“Ok so this is the ‘im nothing like y’all’ fish”

“alrighty, and this is..?”

“Oh that’s the Freddy five bear meme, see it’s funny cuz his name is actually ‘Freddy fazbear’ but they got his name wrong so like.. yeah”

“…I’m not sure what I’m ‘posed to say ‘bout this, but I think you belong in a looney bin”

Once he had a project that had the word “alpha” in it and he hated mentioning it to you cuz yk

“giggle”

“…what?”

“Skibidi alpha”

“What??”

Demo man

HE LOVES IT LMFAOO

he’s so energetic esp when he’s drunk so he’s happy to have someone he can share that energy with

Y’all know that “Scotland forever” meme

Well you screamed it after another victory as a joke, but when demo heard it he was confused but also excited?

“SCOTLAND FOREVAA”

“OH? ALRIGHT THEN, SCOTLAND FOREVER 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿”

cut to him butt chugging beers

Demo doesn’t get it but he has the spirit

He’ll be right there replicating the TikTok audios after taking the point

Dude is drunk 99% of the time so he’s never bothered to ask what any of this means, he’s just in it for the fun

Once you dragged him to the bathroom since he drake too many beers (shocker) but he didn’t want to do it in the toilet cuz he didn’t want to ‘hurt his dear skibidi’

“Cmon demo you have to puke it out!!”

“Noo, take me to the jawbox I don’t wanna hert me skibidi toilet”

“Oh god what have I done”

I think you rotted his brain a little too much

Spy

Don’t even get him started.

He’s so sick of your antics it’s not even funny

“Guys we all have to remember that it’s not about the money.. it’s about the skibidi.”

Passionately grabs spy’s shoulder

“How have you made it this far in life”

Unlike engie, he really doesn’t want to know about it

Especially during missions

“lol spy you’re so devious ASF”

“shhh, enough blabbering!!”

“You are not carti 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️❌‼️‼️‼️”

You make fun of him a bunch, he can’t think of a single moment where you took him seriously

“Y/n get off the cart!!”

“If we were in Fortnite I’d have higher ground + double pump.”

[celaenaeiln]

Happy Turkey Day btw

Quickie Question:

What are your favorite Dick and Tim moments?

😂😂🦃

Same to you!! <3

With them I'm just living for Tim being an annoying, adorable little brother and Dick being an annoying, sweet older brother right back

Nightwing (1996) Issue #25

Robin (1993) Issue #67

I'm just about to start crying with laughter. Their interactions just SCREAM Older Brother and Younger Brother behavior.

Robin (1993) Issue #74

But what I love about them is how openly affectionate they are. Dick loves Tim and takes care of him. Even with their funny banter, Dick's always the first person Tim goes to for everything.

Robin (1993) Issue #156

As soon as Dick got a call from Tim, he dropped everything to talk to him. He wasn't getting in, he was leaving.

My favorite Dick and Tim moments though? These.

Young Justice (1998) Book 1 Part 3

Nightwin (1996) Issue #6

"He's family. The closest thing to a brother I'll ever have."

"So excuse me if I get a little severe."

Tim loves, adores his big brother:

Gotham Knights Issue #33

"We've all been through a lot, big brother."

Red Robin Issue #12

Tim adores Dick so much. He idolizes him.

Batman/Catwoman: The Gotham War: Scorched Earth

In complete seriousness, if someone ever said Dick wasn't the best robin in Tim's hearing range he would actually chew through their arms with his bare teeth.

His belief in Dick is unshakeable. His admiration has no bounds.

Young Justice (1998) Book 1 Part 3

Again and again Tim talks about good Dick is at everything and over and over Dick talks about how good Tim is. They really love each other from the bottom of their hearts.

What's special about Dick and Tim's relationship is what Tim says here: "You promised me that you'd do a quadruple somersault. And you delivered."

Dick will always deliver for Tim. Anyplace, anytime, he's ready to drop everything for him. That's how much Tim means to him.

I love reading about Dick and Tim's interactions because they tease each other in the funniest ways but there's almost an overwhelming undercurrent of affection in each of their voices. They're adorable.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #142

My favorite unhinged babies.

[the-lonelyshepherd]

"fanon lottienatters please stay away from me" oh!! shots fired!! 2,000 dead, 10,000 injured!! BUT curious about your specific definition for fanon lottienat and what you dislike about it <33

ohhhhh okay... alrrrrrr

this is like. one of my biggest issues. im not like a shipper, never rlly have been until yj but i dont like engage in discourse bc thats stupid.

But basically? Fanon lottienat just kinda strips anything thats interesting about the ship away. and makes it like. punk x preppy. loser x popular. ive even heard black cat and golden retriever which makes me want to rip my eyes out.

And its not even accurate to their characterization? at all? like youre flanderizing them but like..... not even their main traits. like ive seen people say "precrash lottie would be like charlotte from status update (curse that movie btw. the things i do for u courtney eaton) which is just. like not at all.

first off lottie is not popular. yeah, shes rich, but shes clearly somewhat of a loner (WHICH PARALLELS NAT?? WHICH MAKES IT MORE INTERESTING???) even courtney has said this in interviews. she feels ostracized, and a lot of it can be traced back to the flashback scenes we see, esp those about her relationship w her parents and her supposed mental illness. the 90s, especially the 90s in a high pressure rich family, was NOT a good place to have schizophrenia (and yeah theres the "she wasnt actually mentally ill" argument but that changes nothing because atp in the story her whole family and probably herself believed she was.

Then we have the nat characterization. The fanon "grumpy" to fanon lotties "sunshine". guys canonically nat smiles more than lottie. girlie was always grinning while lottie was experiencing the horrors all of s1. ofc they both went THROUGH it but that specific stereotype pissed me off sm i had to address it.

also, nat gets shown a lot as masc?? which is a fine headcanon but like for her style like the whole punk thing? she acc dresses relatively femininely.those are little irks abt nat but they bother me idc. too tired to write more on this rn but feel free to ask!

so basically taking this stuff into account - fanon lottienat uses a gross mischaracterization of both characters, especially lottie (also that suspiciously align w stereotypes HMMMMM) to literally make the ship more boring. You are making it a stupid and lame trope. You literally have these two insanely complex characters who mirror each other. Theyre not opposites attract, they are the same character in different skins. They're both loners, one because of her punk/rebel nature and nasty rumors, the other because of her mental illness and lack of closeness to people. Theyre both loners because of their social status and their fucked up home life. Theyre both providers - nat the hunter, bringer of physical and real food like the deer. Lottie the prophet, bringer of hope and, through the teams eyes, the birds, the bear, etc. Lottie who begs to be a martyr but is denied nat who runs from it but shoulders it anyways. They're both bleeding hearts they both give soul to the team and are some of the most genuine characters but they present it so differently.

The fact that the majority of content grossly mischaracterizes them and is the widely accepted fanon just.. sucks tbh. and the fact that people get so up in arms about them, and literally attack fans of other characters (lottielee fans... travis fans....) for no reason?? all these other characters do is contribute to what makes lottienat such a compelling and fucked up and interesting ship. i love them so much but lwk most of yall are insane and dont even appreciate them for what they really are.

thoughts questions comments concerns hmu

[queenie-avenue]

Hey! I saw your post about the requests and was wondering if you could write a story about Sebastian and a female MC, which contains a lot of angst ( with a happy ending ) maybe about a huge misunderstanding with jealousy on MC’s side and all is good in the end? :)

Thank you!! 💚

You're so pretty, it hurts.

—> he's so popular he can barely give you the time of day now.

⤻ reader is a female, reader's house is not specified, reader is insecure, reader is easily jealous/a bit clingy, angst with a happy ending but it's like more internal turmoil than straight up arguing, jealousy, all characters are in their sixth year, ominis is the best wingman, mentions of the events in hogwarts legacy, sebastian is on the quidditch team as a beater

note: i know that sebastian is canonically unfit, and i love him for it, but i think he would be good as a beater. thank you for the ask, btw anon! <33 keep them coming!

🦋 ⤻ archives.

Ever since the events of last year, you and Sebastian weren't that close anymore. He had promised things would be the same, but a part of you felt like Sebastian blamed you for the events that happened in your sixth year. You blamed yourself too, to be honest. If only you had been more persistent, if only you had been more persuasive, Sebastian wouldn't have lost his sister and uncle.

You still dream about the hollow eyes of Solomon Sallow, at times. Regretting how you did nothing to stop Sebastian from going down the path of evil.

Although you and Sebastian did not talk that much anymore, you still heard whispers about him. Well, technically they weren't whispers given how everyone was speaking about him to the point the whispers grew into a buzz that you could not fizz out from your brain. Your dearest slytherin boy had decided to try out for the quidditch team this year now that Professor Black finally allowed the darn sport to be played. Ominis told you — yes, Ominis and not Sebastian — that Sebastian wanted a way to let loose that anger inside him, he hoped that being a beater would help with his issues, get his mind off things.

That seemed to work, given how little he seemed to think of you nowadays.

Even now, as you sat in the library, you heard giggles from girls who thought that Sebastian looked rather dashing in the quidditch uniform or how some guys were jealous of the attention Sebastian was getting. Even some guys fancied the slytherin boy too.

You slammed your book shut and practically stormed out from the library. "A library is meant for studying, not gossiping." You muttered, overcome with jealousy, ignoring the fact that you had been gossiping with Poppy just weeks ago.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

You stood at the side of the quidditch field, staring up at the sky as the slytherin team flew overhead, practicing drills for next week's match with hufflepuff.

"You know, this would be much easier if you talked to him." Ominis said, interrupting the gawking session you were currently undergoing. You had invited Ominis over to the quidditch field in an attempt to make things less awkward when Sebastian would eventually descend from the sky back onto the green patches of grass.

You stood there alongside with Ominis, making small talk as you stared up into the sky — your eyes almost being burnt off by the afternoon sun — as you look at Sebastian flying up there.

His hair riding against the waves of the wind, the curls flapping like a bird's wings, the way all the worries in his chocolate eyes flutter away when he rides on the broom, going against the current of the wind. He looks happier, happier than he was throughout the remainder of fifth year and you can't help but feel jealous and left out. You wished you could make him that happy, so joyous that all his frustration seemed to melt away like snow when spring slowly came to reap.

Insecure thoughts plagued your mind as you played with your fingers, your head slowly dipping as it now paid more attention to the ground and dirt rather than the glorious sight that was Sebastian Sallow.

You didn't even notice when he landed and began speaking.

"[y/n]! [y/n]!" Ominis' voice brought you out of your daydream, and your eyes immediately snapped up to be met with those eyes.

"Hey." Sebastian's smirk was brighter than the sun.

Hey? Was that all he would say to you after avoiding you for the better part of the first two months of the year? "Hi." You replied dismissively, looking away. Ominis seemed to sense your apprehension as he nudged you. Poor Ominis, really.

"What are you guys doing here?" Asked Sebastian as he reached out to grab your shoulder but you simply moved away.

You would have paid to see that look on his face again.

"Just watching the show." You shrugged as you looked over at the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team that had landed. Imelda seemed to shoot a particularly dirty look at Sebastian for riding away from them. "You did well. I saw you." You commented rather stiffly.

"Yeah well, training will do that to you. I can finally walk up the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower without running out of breath!" He laughed and you responded with a polite chuckle.

Then you both just stared at one another.

"Confident about the game?" Ominis asked, attempting for what seemed like the millionth time to help with the relationship.

"Yeah." Sebastian said rather cockily, looking like the fifth year you first met. "We're going to pummel hufflepuff, just you wait." You smiled at that.

Just then, one of the other beaters, a rather tall girl practically ambushed Sebastian, throwing an arm over his shoulder. "Oh Ominis, and the new fifth year!" She said, but all you could focus on was how chummy she was with Sebastian.

"I'm a sixth year now, actually." You corrected, perhaps a bit too sharp.

"Hah, yeah, sorry. You just made an impression was all, the whole defeating Ranrok thing." The girl smiled and you could tell she was genuine in her awe of you but your eyes kept glancing over at where Sebastian and her made contact. You had no claim over the boy but you felt like your heart was shattering into glass pieces as he returned her side hug.

"We should probably head back to doing drills, before Imelda burns a hole in either of our heads." Sebastian commented, his eyes drifting towards you intently.

"You will be watching us during the match, right?" The boy confirmed, looking at you with anticipation.

You were almost tempted to make a snide remark about how he didn't need you anymore given the fact that he had a whole team and school of people who wanted to be near him.

All you did was give a simple nod before excusing yourself, not wanting to have your heart broken further.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

As he soared through the winds, your eyes still remained on him and only him. You didn't even know whether or not Slytherin was winning. You could hardly care for anything else other than the triumphant look on his face every time he blocked or parried a bludger. God, maybe a bludger to the head would help see sense and just speak to you properly about why he was acting so strangely.

You barely registered it when they announced that Slytherin had won the match, only realising it when Sebastian practically tumbled to the floor, thrown onto it by the same girl you had been so jealous of the other day.

Sebastian smiled at her and lifted her up into the air, his eyes brighter than ever.

Had he ever looked at you that way?

You wanted to puke, you wanted to scream, but you couldn't. Not here. Maybe because of your pride but the moment his eyes met yours, you dashed. Skirts fluttering in the wind as you ran and ran, practically sliding down towards the edge of the black lake. With no one there other than the mermaids at the bottom of the lake, you sank towards the ground.

Perhaps it was a bit dramatic but you were a teenage girl and you saw your crush embrace another girl like it was nothing. You think you had the right to be dramatic.

You sat down, not caring about whether or not the dirt or water would stain the fabric of your skirt. You didn't care much about anything except the way Sebastian looked so happy without you.

Had avoiding you really made him that more relaxed?

You curled up, holding your knees close to your chest as you fought back tears.

The sun had set by the time you finally regained enough sanity to wonder whether it was time to head back to the castle.

Before you could have any other rational thought, you heard the rustles behind you, your wand raised and pointed at the intruder only to see a boy with freckles dotted all over his face raising up his hands. His forehead was marred with sweat, cheeks red and mouth panting as he stared at you.

"Where the bloody hell were you!" He practically screamed, causing you to lower your wand.

"Well, I'm here, as you can tell." You didn't mean to make his worries seem like a joke but it just slipped out.

"I was-" he panted. Despite how fit his arms had gotten, Sebastian still couldn't run well, it seemed. "I was looking for you everywhere! I thought you went to go fight Ashwinders, or something! I was scouring the entire place for you." He said, approaching you and grabbing hold of your shoulders, shaking you like a mad man as he looked into your beautiful [e/c] eyes. "Don't- Don't scare me like that. Please." He begged.

"I- I didn't mean to." You replied, shocked at how emotional Sebastian suddenly was.

"Please don't do that again. You know I lost her, I can't lose you too." He said and you knew he was obviously referring to Anne and you felt pity for him, but you also felt annoyed. You wanted to push him away as he embraced you, his sweat smearing all over your dirt-stained clothes.

"If I'm so important to you," you started, "why have you been avoiding me?" You finally let your emotions spill out as you caressed the side of Sebastian's face, eyes leering over his prominent freckles. You had once joked they looked like constellations but really, Sebastian was as bright as a star. "You kept running away from me," your hands gently touched his skin, enjoying the texture of the slight stubble he had shaved. "You didn't talk to me, I thought I did something wrong."

"You did nothing wrong." Sebastian cut in.

"Then tell me why."

"It was- I couldn't help it. I was terrified. I know you promised to always be by my side. But I was so scared I'd disappoint you, I wanted to better myself. At the start of the year, throughout the holidays, I kept having the urges to use dark magic. I knew I might cave in and use it and I- I didn't want you to see me when I eventually failed." Like you, it seemed Sebastian was finally spilling out everything he ever wanted to say. "It was so stressful." He whispered, head buried in your chest.

Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact the mood was so emotional, you would have thought Sebastian was trying to cop a feel.

"It didn't look stressful earlier when she hugged you." You thought aloud.

"Is that what you're upset about?" Sebastian asked, looking up from your hug.

"Ngh.." you groaned, not wanting to admit your jealous tendencies but Sebastian simply smirked as he wrapped an arm around your waist knowingly.

"I just needed a way to vent out all that stress. Ominis suggested Quidditch so I gave it a try. I just wanted to be better for you." He whispered. "You like more athletic guys, don't you? The way you look at the Gryffindor boys when they fly tells me a lot." He said, expressing his own envy.

"I don't like other boys, I just like you." You left those words hanging in the air.

"I was scared I wouldn't be. That if I caved, you would leave, like Anne did." He said, his grip on your waist tighter now.

"Even if you fell back into dark magic, I'd be there to pull you out. I would never abandon you." You emphasised, holding Sebastian closer.

"But it wouldn't sit right with me. I wanted to let you go, that's why I didn't respond to your letters all that much during the holidays, I thought you deserved some better." He said, blurring the lines between your relationship. "But when I saw you on the first day... I just couldn't. I wanted to be selfish. But I knew I didn't deserve you, so I wanted to become someone who did."

"You were always enough." You told the slytherin boy, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"I'm getting better. I don't- the urges for dark magic aren't there anymore. Whispers tempting me but when I look at you, they all disappear." He admitted, one of his hands reaching up to brush your lips, taking in the curve of your eyelashes, the blush on your cheeks and finally the way your lips were pursed. "All I think of when I see you," he breathed, inching closer, "is just how much I want to be with you." He admitted.

He was getting closer and closer until there was barely a centimetre between the both of you.

His lips were so soft.

Both of you tumbled to the ground in a passionate embrace as your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist. It felt like forever as he continued kissing you, giving you only a bit of space to breathe before he dived back into your lips, wrestling your tongue like if he didn't taste it, he may die. His hands travelled up, bunching around your hair as he tugged softly, causing noises of ecstasy to escape from your lips.

"Sebastian." You called.

"[y/n.]" He responded as he pushed his lips harsher into yours.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he pulled away. His eyes bore into yours, the reflection of you sparkling in his.

"Trust me, you are enough for me." You whispered as you pulled him into a chaste kiss, something sweeter than the desperate first kiss both of you had.

"You'll never leave my side?" He asked.

"Never." You smiled.

Sebastian's tense expression finally loosened as he kissed you again. "I suppose we can't exactly call each other friends anymore, can we?" He chuckled as he dived back into another kiss.

"Yeah, and that also means you can't let anyone else hold you like this. Even your quidditch team." Sebastian laughed at your words.

"With how jealous you are, I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner."

He kissed you again and it felt like heaven.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Ok I have a bit of a specific question about pacing. When Im writing, the story flows naturally enough but when im rereading it, it feels too choppy (?) Like, the scenes feel like they’re happening too fast one after the other, the sentences feel too disjointed. Ik i shouldn’t be too harsh on my first drafts, but I’m not entirely sure how to edit it either. Thanks so much, you’re blog is super helpful btw!! <33

(Not me rereading this ask to see if it’s badly paced XD)

Struggling with 1st Draft Pacing

Scenes happen one after the other... that's how scenes work. :) So, that in and of itself isn't an issue. But if you find every single one of your scenes are consistently long, short, or otherwise the same length, it might be an issue.

Ultimately, all that matters is that each scene does the work it needs to do. Scenes are sort of like mini stories. They should have a clear beginning, middle, and end. They should create or advance conflict/story elements, develop characters or setting/world, deliver important information such as back story or off-page events, or some combination of the above.

So, looking at each of your scenes, ask yourself the following questions:

-- What is the character trying to accomplish in this scene, and how does that move the story forward or give the reader critical information?

-- What is my goal for this scene as a writer? What do I want the reader to take away from this scene as they head into the next scene?

-- What is the central conflict of this scene? Or in other words, what are the opposing elements that create a question for the reader? (For example, which belief will the character choose to stick with? Who will win the argument or fight? Will the character get the thing they're after? What will the character do since a thing is being denied to them?)

-- What would happen if you removed this scene from the story? Would the plot still work? Would the reader still know what they need to know in order to understand the story?

Your answers to these questions will help you better understand whether or not the scene could be doing more, what more it could be doing, and maybe even whether or not the scene can be cut.

Once you make sure you're writing strong, necessary scenes that pull their weight in the story, you should find that your pacing improves. You may still end up needing to tweak the pacing (see: Exposition, Action, and Dialogue, and How to Pace Your Story; Slowing the Pace within a Chapter, and Pacing Feels Too Fast for more help.)

Happy writing!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Hello<3 can you do Masky, Toby, Jeff and Ben with a mean teen readerr? Like there just mad all the time but its because of trauma or something?:0 I LOVE YOU SMM TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF MLLL!!<33

Jeff and Tim are NOT gonna take that shit 😰

Thank you so much for requesting!!

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

Masky

Honestly the dad in him comes out a bit

Like his whole thing is "what makes you think you get to act like that?"

He gets it, you've had a rough life but so has EVERYONE ELSE HERE

Just because your life sucked doesn't mean you get to be an asshole

He will treat you like a baby

Partly just to tick you off, and partly because if you act like a baby, you're gonna get treated like one

He'll put you in time out, he'll take things away, he'll put hot sauce in your mouth, etc

And the thing is, you can't even tattle to slender because slender agrees with Tim!

I think maybe here and there he'd ask you why you're always so angry, and what he can do to help, and if you don't answer, he doesn't mind because he understands

But if you do answer, your relationship begins to grow, and he learns how to help you out better

He doesn't want you to be mad all the time, because even though it might not seem like it sometimes, he does care about you

But as much as he cares, he also isn't gonna let a literal child bully him

He's way too old for that shit >:/

Toby

He's kind of scared of you

He just stays out of your way

His relationship with you is similar to his relationship with Jeff

He and Jeff are friends, yes, but they aren't close

And most of the time, Toby will choose to avoid Jeff rather than hangout with him

That's how he sees you too

You're a good kid! He just doesn't wanna upset you

The very few interactions you have with him are typically just him sucking up to you, or him doing his best to tiptoe around everything that could upset you

And because of this, you do take advantage of him sometimes

"Toby go get me a snack"

"I dunno y/n, don't you think you could go...get it yourself this time?" As he says this almost every word has a whistle or click after it, showing how nervous he is

You will slowly turn your head to look at him with a glare "I know you aren't calling me lazy"

"No, no! I-I would never! I'm just saying-"

"OH! So you're calling me fat then?"

"No!"

"Then go get me a snack before i make you regret the day your mommy queefed you out"

He REALLY needs to learn to stand up for himself smh

And typically he is pretty good at standing up for himself but yk

Kids scare him

Jeff

With his explosive anger issues you will not last more than 3 seconds around him omg

He is not above fist fighting a child btw

I mean yk, he'd get punished for it but that doesn't stop him

The second you try anything around him he checks you real quick

If you back off, he will get a boost of pride and say some shit like "Yeah, that's what I thought"

If you double down with it, it will likely turn into an all out screaming match

Until someone pulls him away and is like "dude you can't be fighting with little kids :/"

He will always call you names and always be sour around yo

Crotch goblin, little shit, failed abortion

you know, the usual <333

Honestly im gonna be so real with you for a second, the way I see yalls relationship going is only to one drastic side of a spectrum

You could bond over your anger issues and become best friends/siblings with an unbreakable bond

OR you could become so sour towards each other that the caretakers of the manor literally have a meeting about changing your schedule a bit to get around Jeff's

No in between its only one of those two

Yeah, Jeff doesn't take no shit from anyone

Even children, gotta teach em young <333

Ben

Ben, being so chill genuinely does not care what you do to him

Since he doesn't have a physical body, you can't fight him either

So sometimes he will pick fights with you just to make you mad

I'm desperately trying to make Ben's section more than 3 bullets long

I'm telling you he literally does not care, does not react, NOTHING.

You could be screaming at him and he will just continue about his day like you aren't even there

Which of course, makes you more mad

But again, he doesn't care

Making you try harder and harder just to get a reaction out of him

The only reaction you will get is out of Jeff, and we already talked about his dramatic ass