#this is vastly different from the things i normally make

[zoyazenik]

DEVIL TOWN : THE GAME 🐺 ↳ salem bellamira & blair bellamira , devil town 🐺 ( in•sp )

taglist 🦋: @samwilsonns, @kiara-carrera, @fleetwoodmcs, @dio-nysvs @alimas, @villanele, @daisyjohvson, @arrthurpendragon, @aaudace, @julianblackthcrns, @richitozier, @megdonnellys, @anotherunreadblog, @prosemoireia, @luucypevensie, @chlobenet, @eddysocs, @phoebestarks, @stareyedplanet, @waterloou, @raith-way, @jvstjewels, @anita-alice, @eddiemunscns, @impales

[want to be added or removed?]

[the-casbah-way]

down then left octavius vs canon octavius

i think it's safe to assume that most people would say the version of octavius i've invented for down then left is vastly different to the octavius we see in the films, and i can see why. canon octavius is loud, brave, confident, and generally a very fun and cheerful little guy. down then left octavius is, well, none of those things. or at least a lot of people probably see it that way. the thing i love about aus, though, is the fact that it's the perfect opportunity for a writer to explore one of my favourite concepts; being a product of your environment. your physical surroundings, the people you interact with, and in this case even the time period you're in, are intrinsic to who you are, to some extent. octavius was simply meant to be in ancient rome. it's just where he belongs. it's where he fits. his role as a military leader - and one operating under an empire trademarked by active and offensive territorial expansion, at that - is what gives him the chance to truly thrive, and put to use the traits we don't always see in down then left octavius. natural leadership, confidence, and bravery. when you remove someone like that from his intended time period and stick him in a world dominated by computers, late stage capitalism, and repetitive mundane responsibilities, it's no wonder we no longer see him as the same person. in a way, down then left octavius' job as the manager of a big company does showcase his abilities as a natural leader. we don't really get to see this in action but there are definitely hints of it, and we can obviously assume that it's there since he's been able to work his way up to the position he's in now. but how can we expect down then left octavius to be confident, for example, when he's living in a world that has no use for his positive traits? he's supposed to be doing something far bigger, far more long-term and with a far clearer cause than a mediocre office job. if down then left octavius had a chance to do something he actually enjoyed - and was actually good at, most importantly - he'd arguably be just as confident as canon octavius. there are signs of this token confidence throughout the fic, if you look for them; octavius' ability to stand up for himself or other people without a second thought, his tendency to naturally assume he's correct in his thoughts and opinions, his brashness and bluntness with complete strangers like the angry man in the bar. it's there, it's just not happening in the right environment for it to really flourish in a way that's particularly noticeable. we don't have canon octavius' backstory, so for all we know it could be very different or equally very similar to that of down then left octavius, who grew up not only closeted and emotionally neglected, but also with no real outlet in which he could really channel any of his passion or natural abilities and positive characteristics. the main difference here is that when you add all this into an environment with very little space for self-expression or discovery, almost no healthy human connections, and a world that no longer values the qualities needed to be an ancient roman imperator, you end up with a repressed, awkward, mentally-ill loser who seems so fundamentally out of place wherever he steps foot that it's hard to believe he was meant for this timeline at all. the museum gives canon octavius not only somewhere he can still dress, behave and live like he may have done in ancient rome, but also a place where he can be himself and be understood and cared for; something down then left octavius has never had. if i've done my job as a writer correctly then hopefully the more we get to knpw down then left octavius, the more we start to realise that he still has all of canon octavius' qualities in him somewhere, even if we have to dig deep to find them. he is capable of laughing and having fun; he is capable of being sweet and kind and forming meaningful relationships; he is confident, and loud, and silly. it's the world around him that's changed here, not octavius himself

[icewindandboringhorror]

Misc. photos from the past year or so ~

[autistichalsin]

I hate that I have to give this PSA at all- that I do is a failure on the part of multiple governmental organizations. But it is important.

COVID damages a lot more than you think. It damages more than your lungs, and does more than give you digestive issues. And sometimes, those issues can last well after you get better, even if you're not a person you would otherwise think of as being sick with long COVID.

If you only remember these two things, please just remember that:

COVID can and does damage your heart.

COVID can and does damage your nervous system, particularly your brain.

If you have had COVID in the last 18 months, you are at a highly elevated risk of sudden cardiac death compared to someone who hasn't. In the first three weeks after getting sick, your odds of dying from a heart-related event are 81 times that of an uninfected person, and five times higher in the following 18 months. You are also at a higher risk of of developing nonfatal heart disease; 40% likelier. (Source for all claims in this paragraph)

If you develop ANY cardiac symptoms at all after getting COVID- heart palpitations, blood pressure issues, fatigue, fainting, getting out of breath easier than is normal for you- you need to see a doctor as soon as possible, and you need to tell them you've recently had COVID. You have long COVID until proven otherwise.

Similarly, your risk of neurological disorders remains heightened over a year after getting COVID; approximately 40% higher. (Source) This manifests in more ways than I have time to list, but includes a vastly higher risk of dementia of all types (doctors are particularly seeing this with the under-45 group that was previously extremely rare), memory disorders, sensory issues (like persisting loss or distortion of taste and smell), mental health issues like anxiety or depression, and even more.

These can manifest in a lot of ways. But if you experience new anxiety or depression, new behavioral issues (particularly for those under the age of 18), if you suddenly can't focus anymore or can't remember things anymore (ESPECIALLY words, COVID has been noted to cause extreme difficulty with word recall), if you have tremors, if you're tired all the time, if you have "brain fog", if you have trouble sleeping, I could go on... again. You have long COVID until proven otherwise. EVEN IF you aren't "that sick". Even if you have energy to do things and can mostly function but you just aren't doing well in school/at work anymore because you can't remember the things your teacher/professor is talking about/the new work protocols your boss went over with you.

If you hop over to the subreddits for teachers or professors, you will notice a lot of them noting their students don't remember basic things the teachers have been pressing for an entire semester, or that students can't sit long enough to focus through a movie. And sure, some of that is cell phones reducing attention span, or students just not paying attention- but they just can't seem to pick up the pieces there that they are seeing long-term sequelae (that is, a different illness arising from COVID infection) in their students. It is everywhere, but few people are connecting the dots.

Similarly, there is a huge wave of pilots being unable to pass their physicals and losing their licenses, or making mistakes due to brain fog (in some cases even leading to crashes) or falling victim to sudden cardiac death in the middle of a flight.

EVERYONE is at risk from this. No one is talking about this. I don't kn- well, actually, no, I do know exactly why, I just don't like it. People want to make COVID the new flu, but it just isn't. It is not and never will be the flu. And we are willingly inflicting cardiomyopathy and dementia and all sorts of awful things on people in the name of regaining a sense of normalcy that is gone, but ironically would be closer to returning if we had accepted for a while that things WEREN'T normal and acted accordingly. But that chance is gone now, COVID is never going away because people couldn't bother, but they still can't admit it, they can't face the consequences of their actions, so instead we're getting this attempted coverup of the real long-terms dangers of COVID that even "young and healthy" people have.

But pretending things are normal doesn't make sick people healthy. So instead, try to educate folks, because there is a very high chance you or someone you know is sick right now, due to COVID infections they had months ago, and doesn't know it because people are pretending COVID is just the flu but with tummy upset and a disrupted sense of taste/smell.

People NEED to know what the actual dangers are.

ALSO, sidenote: if you are masking, and ask your medical team to mask, and they respond by starting to suggest you are experiencing "COVID anxiety", find a new provider. Immediately. Don't even continue the appointment. They are not interested in helping you.

Signed, your friendly neighborhood epidemiologist.

[emeraldspiral]

So another interesting thing about Jane Eyre is its take on relationship inequality.

Like, Jane is 18 at the beginning of the story and Rochester is said to be something like 35-38. And it's not casually brushed aside like that was normal back in the day. It wasn't. Concerns about the age gap are raised within the text. But the story emphasizes that Jane feels comfortable accepting Rochester's proposal, despite the age difference, the class difference, and him being her boss, because Jane feels that Rochester regards her as an equal. When they converse, Jane doesn't feel any tension, like she has to impress him or try to read his mind and say whatever he wants to hear. She feels that he respects her and values her thoughts and isn't compelled to use his power against her if she says something to displease him. Around the midpoint of the story, Jane believes that Rochester is going to marry another woman, and resolves to leave because she's heartbroken, believing that because she is poor and plain Rochester can't possibly be as hurt by their parting as she is, and he'll forget her and move on long before she does. But it turns out to be the opposite. After finding out about Bertha, Rochester begs Jane to stay and insists he'll be miserable forever without her, while Jane, still thinking she's too poor and plain to ever attract someone like him again, resists all temptation and leaves him. And she does this specifically because she feels that if she were to compromise her morals and self-respect to be Mr. Rochester's mistress, then he would lose respect for her and the relationship would fall apart. It was only by maintaining her integrity that the relationship could stay in-tact when the reconciled at the end.

St. John Rivers on the other hand, I don't think is given a definite age, but I think he's intended to be a much younger man, probably in his early 20s. He is poor and without relations aside from his sisters or any other connections, just as Jane. Jane finds out they're actually cousins at the same time she learns she's come into a vast fortune that was willed to her rather than the Rivers, but decides to share her fortune equally with them. So she arguably had more social capital, even though she made an effort to put St. John on equal footing with her, because the money was hers by right and she could've presumably cut him off at any time, just as easily as Rochester could've terminated Jane from her job.

And yet, Jane's relationship with St. John is vastly more unequal than her relationship with Rochester. Even though Jane practically worshiped Rochester but only cares for St. John as a brother and is acutely aware of his faults, she still finds herself desperately craving his approval in a way she never did with Rochester. And St. John is willing to exploit that intentionally. He asks her to do things she doesn't want to and make sacrifices for him just because he knows she'll do anything to please him, and that's why he thinks she's the perfect wife for him. Where Rochester tries to explain himself and persuade Jane not to leave him by addressing her concerns, St. John basically tries to command Jane to marry him and refuses to accept her "no" as final. He withholds affection from Jane as a tactic to get her to compromise in order to reconcile with him when he's the one who should be apologizing to her and considering her needs and not just his own. Jane knows that she can't ever be happy with him because he doesn't respect her and his lack of respect only makes her want to seek his approval, which he is all too happy to exploit for his own benefit.

But Jane ultimately stays firm and rejects St. John's proposal of a loveless marriage, just as she rejected Rochester's proposal of an unlawful marriage, because both situations were doomed to fail if she didn't put her own self-respect first.

So this novel from 1847 was really saying that power dynamics aren't pure black and white. Age and class and wealth and status can be a factor in making a relationship unequal, but you can also be equal on pretty much all social axis and still have inequality in a relationship. What's really important is that there's mutual respect.

[blade-liger-4ever]

Why I think Miko Nakadai is arguably the best human character in TFP

Don't misunderstand, I know Miko was handled haphazardly throughout the series' run. That said, aside from her skipping off into the battlefield, she was actually a great character - and, in my personal opinion, the actual audience surrogate character in TFP.

Now, let me explain.

Although Miko's backstory is told and not shown - a rich daughter who had everything she could ever want, up to and including two pure-breed cats and piano lessons from age three onwards (which, coincidentally, tells us she's brainy despite her antics) - much can be inferred from what snippets of her past we get, along with her interactions with the Autobots. For one, she obviously can't stand most adult supervision, which is likely because of a few things. For one, back home in Japan, Miko would have had to be proper and polite, always restrained, and had to do what she was told. While this is normal (to an extent) in the West, in the East this is etiquette that needs to be obeyed, especially if you're as well off as she is; her actions, specifically in Japan, will reflect on her parents, but to a far lesser extent in America. Thus, when presented with the freedoms of the USA, Miko not only jumps at the chance for an exchange program that will give her the mobility she craves, she also chooses the place that has the least amount of glamor. By extension of choosing to settle in Jasper, Miko's also displaying two other traits: she's not afraid of going to a place vastly different from her home, and she isn't disgusted by a small town with very little monetary value to it.

Secondly, Miko's disregard for authority from adults but deference to the 'Bots teases us with an insecurity - namely, an insecurity that no adult ever gives her a chance to make her own decisions.

Just think about it: All the times Miko's blown off the human adults, it's when they've tried to decide her life for her. Miko has, from what we can see, had her whole life dictated, up to and including those piano lessons. She may be a prodigy at almost everything, but her preferred instrument is the guitar - and yet, she wasn't given lessons in that from the time she was a toddler. Therefore, she feels confined and controlled by the authority of her elders. And so, while Miko may be able to sway Bulkhead into getting her out of detention and consistently slip past the watchful eyes of the 'Bots, it's out of a desperate motivation to control her own life. Now, she does hold too much interest in the battles and getting to watch them, but wouldn't you have that same eagerness if Gundams or Jaegers came to life before your eyes? Yes, she knows their lives are in danger, that they couldn't come home, but there's still a fantastical element to all of this about the Autobots. And it remains so because while she loves them all, Bulkhead is the only one who, while giving her life advice and trying to keep her in check/alive, lets her make her own decisions and take control of her life and her actions.

And that's why she keeps going to the field. That's why she only listens to the reprimands with half an ear and why she recovers so fast from Optimus' near death experiences, as well as Raf's close call with death.

And that's why Miko's world shatters when Bulkhead is left in a half-dead coma from his fight with Hardshell. Because the one person in the universe who gave her freedom and care without deciding her life for her was not just seriously injured, but possibly on death's door.

That's why Miko runs around without a care until the S2 episode "Hurt": because she wants autonomy to decide her life, even if it's stupid choices that could get her killed.

And after "Hurt", we see a new Miko. Yes, she remains gung-ho and fierce, but she stops running onto the battlefield. She takes less enjoyment from the War. Because now, with the reality of war fresh in her mind, she knows the risks and the stakes involved, and she will never take that or her friends for granted anymore. This is further proved when Miko 'sneaks' along for "Chain of Command", but with a twist: she asks Wheeljack if she can come along - and if memory serves, this is the first mission Bulkhead's been on with herself present since the events before "Hurt". Clearly, Miko is still worried about losing Bulkhead - only, this time, she values the words of the 'Bots, and now seeks permission to join a mission, though she wisely asks Wheeljack for this blessing.

This is the beautiful part of her arc, crowned by her battle with Starscream and his Seekers (which is also just straight up awesome.) When she's kicked the afts of everyone, and Starscream tries to intimidate her with his usual "I killed Cliffjumper" speech, Miko's response is this calm, slightly rough, retort:

"Big whoop. I snuffed Hardshell."

In this moment, Miko Nakadai is shown to have grown from an excitable child into an unyielding, but mature, adult warrior. She no longer treats the War and the 'Bots like a game, or a release. She treats them as her friends who she will gladly risk her own life for.

And that, in my opinion, makes her the best human protagonist in all of Transformers: Prime, and Transformers media in general.

As for what I said earlier about her being the true audience surrogate, be honest with yourselves: If any of us were given the chance to meet the Autobots, wouldn't you be just as irrepressible as Miko, as eager to help as she was, and tempted to go to the battlefield to see the action/make sure your 'Bot wasn't going to die? That's what I mean when I say she's the audience surrogate - Miko acts like we would, and learns as we would about the War and the 'Bots if we suddenly came across them.

That's my two cents on Miko, and why she's the human character I respect the most in Transformers...probably of all time. If you liked it, I'm glad; Miko deserves better, and I hope I explained why well.

Til next time, folks!

"Autobots, transform!"

[grandline-fics]

hi! could i request for mihawk and anyone else of your choice reacting to their usually modest s/o wearing something scandalous and getting a lot of attention and they feel jealous or try to hide them away from prying eyes? thanks love you

DESCRIPTION: You’re normally modest and get a lot of attention from others when you wear something scandalous

WARNINGS: a little suggestive but nothing explicit at the end

CHARACTERS: Mihawk

WORDS: 1,285

A/N: Thank you for this request! I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you enjoy what I came up with for it

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

“Another gala, Crocodile?” Mihawk asked dryly looking at the small decorated piece of paper in his hand. “Is my presence truly necessary for this?” His golden eyes looked at the information blankly and held back the glare to see it would be taking place on the island they were at. Any other time these events were held, Mihawk would refuse to travel so far for a measly party or would take up a bounty mission that would take him in the opposite direction so he couldn’t attend. 

“Oh humour me for once, Mihawk.” Crocodile urged, frowning around his cigar. “I can’t keep bringing that liability of a figurehead. If we want to convince those nobles and backers of our legitimacy I need someone who can actually manoeuvre in these circles. If we want to see Cross Guild succeed and be profitable you’re going. You’re not getting out of it this time.” You bit back a smile to see your lover’s eye twitch. He hated going to these kinds of things. Quickly you acted, stepping behind his seat to place a hand on his shoulder and offer him a smile. “Oh come on, might actually be fun. At least this time you’re not going under Marine orders, it’ll be different. I can go with you if that makes things easier?”

At that Crocodile let out a small scoff, making you and Mihawk look at him in annoyance. The gala invitation was an open one so he couldn’t say you weren’t allowed to go but it was clear you going had irked him in some way which was odd seeing as you and the other founder of Cross Guild were on relatively good terms. You would’t say we was a close friend but he wasn’t someone you loathed. You remained silent as Crocodile stubbed out his cigar into the ashtray on the table and slowly looked you over, his scrutinising stare showing his critical assessment. “No offence, but you’d be more out of place than the clown. Like I said, we need to make a positive impression with these people.”

Your fingers flexed against Mihawk’s shoulder in a silent way of telling him not to react to Crocodile’s remarks. You were more than aware that your appearance was vastly different from his rich fabrics and perfectly tailored style. You’d always preferred simplistic and comfortable over anything else you wore. This wasn’t the first time someone pointed out your modest and almost drab fashion and it never bothered you. At least not until you felt you’d be letting Mihawk down. You knew how important Cross Guild was to him. Quickly you placed a kiss against Mihawk’s cheek and smiled at Crocodile as you left the room, if it was a positive impression he wanted, then that’s what he’d get. “I’ll meet you both at the gala.”

————

Mihawk hated having to interact with people he thought nothing of, he hated having to practically parade himself around in front of rich people like something to be gawked at in order to fulfil their own boring curiosities. He would much rather be in his own quarters with you, enjoying each others company and peace. Sharply he glared at Crocodile for what felt like the hundredth time today as he stepped into the banquet hall of the mansion the gala was being held in. While you’d shown no hint of annoyance for his earlier disrespect, Mihawk was still pissed and no amount of expensive wine was going to change that. 

As he took the glass of wine offered to him, he cast his gaze across the filled room in search of you. Though it was hard to search each face properly especially with the group that had already congregated near the centre of the room, fawning voices spilling from their mouths in a strange chorus. Mihawk and Crocodile shared a look of confusion, as far as they were both aware Cross Guild were the main attraction. While Mihawk was more than happy for someone else to take the attention, Crocodile was less than impressed. Then a familiar laugh sounded from the middle of the group making both men freeze.  

The pair watched as one person moved slightly and it gave them a window to clearly see you talking to the group, allowing the host of the gala lift your hand to press an adoring kiss against your knuckles. Mihawk remained the outward image of calm but inside he was a mess, looking you over intensely. Gone were your usual clothes of comfortable layers of soft and understated fabrics, in their place was the richest material adorning your form like a second skin coloured a deep wine red. Your outfit highlighted your body’s attributes that were usually hidden and accentuated the allure and attractiveness that previous only he was worthy of seeing. 

“Well…”Crocodile managed out with a firm clearing of his throat, even he was caught by your makeover. “Seems I was very wrong.” Mihawk snapped his head away from your direction to throw the fiercest glare yet at his business partner. Oh how he wished he had Yoru with him to slash all of your admirers in one go. Moving briskly he wove himself through the sea of pests buzzing around you and snaked an arm around your waist smoothly in greeting. Upon seeing who you were attending the gala with and felt the murderous aura rolling from his frame, those that had been desperately vying for your attention in the hopes of getting more, promptly became stuttering messes as they made hurried goodbyes and dispersed, scurrying away like the rats Mihawk knew them to be. 

“Hello, love.” You greeted with a pleasant smile. “Something wrong?”

“I despise seeing lesser beings try to sully works of art.”

“Aww, as sweet as that is just say you’re jealous.” You laughed softly, smiling up at him as you let him direct you smoothly away from the centre of the room and away from the appreciative stares you were still getting. “So, have I made a positive enough impression?”

“You know you have. You could wear anything and would be the most attractive person in the room.” Mihawk told you smoothly and you smirked. 

“Then why are you trying to hide me with the edge of your coat?” You asked, looking down to see the hand around your waist also held his coat around your body in an improvised shield. Mihawk didn’t answer. He lowered his gaze down to you once more, fully taking in just how much more enticing you were to him. He thought suffering this gala would be torture enough but to be here with you, looking so ravishing and drawing so much attention was unbearable, even for his resilient will. 

Acting quickly he pulled you close for a kiss and bit back the satisfied smirk when you flinched at the sudden feeling of the wine in his other hand spilled against your shoulder. You pulled back to throw him an accusatory stare while he merely set the now half-empty glass down on the tray of a server walking by and stared at you blankly, completely unapologetic. “Oh, how clumsy of me. Looks like we’ll have to go back and change.”

“You really are childish sometimes you know that?” You muttered with a slow roll of your eyes, walking with him towards the exit. 

“We’ll have to be careful.” Mihawk continued, ignoring your comment, his hand releasing his coat so he could drop his hand to your hip and give you a quick squeeze. “With material this expensive we’d have to make sure it’s taken care of properly. Could take all night.”

Well who were you to argue with that?

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

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[bandgie]

Dreaming of Painter on Floor Two | EP. 2

MASTERLIST | KINK: ORAL

🗝 It's exactly like the Pink Palace, only a thousand times better. It helps that the beautiful man upstairs is infatuated by you. Maybe the buttons for eyes isn't too bad.

3.7k words

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, oral (f!rec), fingering, hyunjin has button for eyes (duh), face riding (brief)

The tunnel is felt material. It’s all smooth and soft as you crawl your way to the Otherside.

Whatever the Otherside may be.

You can’t see much other than the opened crawlspace straight ahead. It looks identical to the one you came from, but the feel is…different.

It’s welcoming. Though you’re roughly halfway across, there’s a warmth pouring from the other door that beckons you closer. It’s like a ray of light on a cold autumn day, and you’re a cat wanting nothing more than to bask in it.

So you do. You smile when you reach the Otherside, putting a hand forward to push the door fully open and to see your living room.

Wait? What? Did you crawl the wrong way?

The smile on your lips turns into a confused frown, but you squeeze through the opening anyway. It’s not until you stand and finally look around that you notice it’s not quite the same. The boxes are gone, and rather than the dirty couches you begged Chan not to bring in the middle of the room, the ones here are clean.

The only thing that vastly differs is the painting on the wall. The boy in blue is not crying over his ice cream. Instead, the scoop sits perfectly on his cone and he smiles hungrily at his dessert. 

Okaaaay?

You suppose it does make sense to dream about the apartment. The rumors you’ve heard and the anxiety you felt moving, maybe this is your brain's way of coping.

But, damn, how disappointing. Maybe you weren’t necessarily expecting a terrible nightmare, but at least something…fun.

Whatever. Hopefully, Chan and Changbin are dreaming of something more exciting. You consider going back into the tunnel before the kitchen light flickers on. Even the bulb doesn’t have that buzzing sound it normally would. It’s a much warmer tone that says, I’m in here!

Who though? Did your friends decide to make a cameo in your dream? Each step closer is like a rollercoaster. It fills you with anxiousness, excitement, and everything in between.

All that wonder fizzles into confusion again when the kitchen is utterly empty. There’s a hint of bacon and eggs as if someone was cooking only seconds ago. It’s the note on the table, however, that catches your attention the most:

I’M WAITING FOR YOU UPSTAIRS :) SEE YOU SOON <3

This has Changbin written all over it. You smile at the thought of him appearing in your dream despite sleeping beside him. Of course, you’re the one conjuring him here, but when you wake and tell him, Changbin would quickly say, ‘Of course, I was there! I just can’t get enough of you.’

You take the note and skip to the front door, wondering what your dream-Changbin has in store tonight. Does he feel bad about making you choke on his cock and wants to make up for it? He did say he wanted to use his tongue. Maybe you went to sleep thinking about it so much you decided to dream about it.

All the different ways he can and has swirled his tongue on your cunt come to mind, but opening the door silences them all.

It’s…

“Oh my god.”

Beautiful.

The grass is green. The sky is blue. The flowers are alive. It’s nothing compared to your actual front yard. Even the stars gleam with excitement, as if happy you’re here. The air isn’t chilly when you step out like it normally would be. The breeze in the night is so gentle on your skin, like a hug from someone who’s missed you dearly.

Changbin…he can wait. Yeah, maybe your legs are still a little sticky being that you got excited and aren’t wearing underwear, but none of that matters. The scene in front of you is mesmerizing and it takes a strong gust of wind to keep you from walking down the porch.

Leaves pick and blow in front, causing you to see how they trail to the stairs and up. 

Ah, he’s really trying to get your attention. 

You giggle and clutch the note a little tighter. “I know. I know. I’m coming.”

-

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

Something clutters on the other side of the door. You grin at the thought of Changbin panicking, trying to clean the room before letting you in.

“Hellooo!” you press your ear to the door. “I’m waiting out here!”

“I-I know! I’ll be there in a sec!”

The way you jolt is almost like you’ve been electrocuted. That’s not Changbin’s voice. That’s not even Chan’s voice. It’s softer than theirs’, almost nervous. You don’t have much time to try and figure out who it belongs to before the door opens.

He’s tall, his narrow build makes him seem even taller. His hair curls at his neck, long and dark.

The fullness of his lips and the wideness of his eyes go over your head. You’re stuck staring at the dark pits of his eye sockets.

Black buttons for eyes.

“Oh shit.” It slips out before you can even register them leaving your lips. His eyebrows cross, and despite not having pupils, you know it’s from confusion. Maybe even some interest. 

“I’m sorry. You’re not…you’re not who I thought you were. They don’t have b-b-buh…”

“B-b-b-buttons? Of course I’m not who you were thinking of.” His buttons gleam mischievously. "I’m better.” He widens the door and grins, hardly giving you any time to comprehend the person - the being - in front of you.

He turns inside, craning his neck back and pursing his thick lips. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

You take a deep breath. The pounding of your heart is subdued by his aloofness: his curious…buttons and the beckoning of his slender finger. Plus, you’ve heard you only dream about someone you’ve already met. Or at least seen. Perhaps you’ve come across him at some point.

Your brain just decided to play a sick trick.

Exhaling, you walk through the door. The man waits until you’re fully inside before shutting it and the lights in the room brighten immediately.

Canvas, brushes, and colorful rags messily lay on the floor. Art stains the floor and now that you’re standing right beside him, you see it’s on his hands as well.

“I was painting when you knocked.” He sees your staring. “I tried putting some stuff away but…I tend to work a little messy.”

You wander further into the room. His artwork ranges from the moon in the sky to a black cat perched on a branch. As you keep exploring, you see the painting of you.

Not just you, but your roommates. The three of you are outside, the grass notably browner, and talking while the moving truck drives up the hill. The perspective is drawn from the higher window, right where the second floor is.

Goosebumps travel on your skin. No wonder you felt like something was watching before you walked through the front door. “You… saw that?”

The man comes closer and crosses his arms, squinting like he’s evaluating his piece. “Yup. I mean, I live here too, you know? Just on the Other side.”

“The Other side?”

He nods. “Yeah, every place has one. This is the Other side of the Pink Palace. Didn’t the place you lived at before have one?”

Besides the random dreams of the rooms being switched and the walls curing in, none felt like this. “I guess. I mean, a dream is a dream. Right?”

Something like danger flicks in his expression. His buttons seem to darken, but he smiles just as quickly as it appears. “Right.”

You shake off the shivers and look back at the painting, noting how he managed to capture Changbin’s height and Chan's build even from up high.

“You’re really good um…” You never got his name.

“Hyunjin.” He smiles bashfully. “You can call me Hyunjin. And thank you. I love art. I just see something beautiful and I have to paint it.” He steps closer, your shoulder on his arm. “Like, I just wish I could see beauty forever. I have to keep it somewhere or else I’ll forget.”

“And you think this was beautiful? The dying grass and everything?”

Hyunjin laughs. “There’s more than that. There’s you.”

You whip your head to him. “Me?”

“Of course.” His smile is infectious. “I told you I like drawing beautiful things. Your friends are pretty too, but I would love to get a portrait of just you.”

You’re flattered, but also off-put. “Why? You wanna keep me forever?” It’s meant to be a joke, a play from his words earlier, but he doesn’t laugh with you. Hyunjin keeps his smile still like he’s controlling himself from saying what he truly wants to say. But he finds something to settle with. “I think a painting will do for now.”

Finally, he laughs. It doesn’t quite reach his buttons, but it’s better than the eerie silence. Hyunjin pulls a chair and tosses the rags off, gesturing for you to sit.

You’re all too conscious of the fact that you’re pantyless. Even as Hyunjin keeps insisting that you sit more comfortably, you keep your legs crossed at all times.

It’s after a few strokes of his brush that Hyunjin breaks the silence. “Can I be honest with you?”

You raise an eyebrow. You can’t help how your body goes rigid, making you move from the position you’ve been in, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Yeah.”

Hyunjin’s buttons meet your eyes only for a brief second before he looks back at his work.

“I saw more than just you three moving in.”

Your thighs tense. The movement makes them rub against your cunt and hit your clit, but you can ignore the burst of pleasure to focus on the pit in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

“Like. I saw you… find the key.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “Saw you open the door. The mouse, ah, I didn’t mean to scare you.” There’s a faint smile on his lips. “But last night - tonight, I saw you and your friends…make love.”

You’d spit out water if you were drinking any. “I- I wouldn’t really call it making love but-”

“It didn’t matter what you call it. Sex, fucking, piping, none of it matters.” The sounds of his paintbrush cease. “I…I liked watching.”

There should be red flags going off. Hyunjin isn’t even looking at his painting. He isn’t even sitting on his stool anymore. He’s walking over to you and stopping just a few inches away, clenching and unclenching his fists like he needs to ground himself. 

“I liked it a lot.”

There should be red flags, there’s none in your mind. All you can see is the memory of Chan and Changbin fucking you. How one cock stretched your mouth while the other stretched your cunt. You’d be lying if you said you aren’t trying to hump against your thighs subtly, but all you can do is pulse and bat your eyes innocently at Hyunjin like you’re embarrassed.

“D-did you?”

Hyunjin falls to one knee. He’s so close you’re scared he might smell the sex on you. “I did. And, I also saw that you couldn’t get kisses.” 

His hand rests on your knee. He doesn’t have to use any strength to pry them open. You part your legs all on your own to put your cunt on display. Hyunjin inhales like he’s starstruck. His buttons seem to shine and he swipes over his bottom lip hungrily.

“I can do that for you now.” He leans in, lips ghosting over your inner thigh, and presses a gentle kiss to it. “If you’d like.”

Okay. You need a mental check-list:

One: He has buttons for eyes

Two: He’s from another world (apparently)

Three: He’s been watching you.

Four: HE HAS BUTTONS FOR EYES

But despite all that, you opt to tell yourself this is all a silly dream and nod, threading your fingers through his hair to guide him closer. Hyunjin lets his tongue trial the softness of your skin before finding your cunt. It’s not his tongue he prods it with, but his lips.

He’s kissing you as if it were your mouth. Soft, gentle pecks just on your clit. The sound of his lips smacking your own fills the room soon, and you widen your legs so he has full range.

But his tongue doesn’t make an appearance yet. Hyunjin trails his lips low to your entrance so he can kiss you there too, getting acquainted with every inch of your pussy. It feels way more intimate than if he were to use his tongue. Hyunjin pulls your skin taunt so he can properly plant his kitten kisses.

It’s when his lips are on your clit that he sucks. Your nub enters his mouth suddenly and you moan. Finally, his tongue swipes over you. It’s so much hotter than you would have imagined, and when he lets your cunt go, he licks a stripe up.

“Fuck.” Your legs threaten to close from the stimulation. You’re already shaking, but Hyunjin has just started to eat you properly.

He smiles with his tongue prodding your entrance. “Sensitive still?” It turns into a grin when he finds your clit again, flicking his tongue back and forth just to watch you grip the chair until your knuckles turn white.

The room erupts in giggles. Hyunjin can’t contain his laughter when your glossy eyes cross.

“Dick.”

His tongue moves back into his mouth, taking a string of arousal with it. Hyunjin moans at your taste, his throat bobbing as he looks up.

“Yeah. I bet you’d like that right now.” One of his fingers slides into your entrance. There’s hardly a stretch, but you squeal anyway. The tip of his finger feels so deep that you can’t stop clenching.

“Look at how you act with just a finger.” Hyunjin can’t look away from your cunt swallowing his digit. “Tight fucking pussy. No wonder why you always need it fucked.”

You mewl at his words. It only adds to the pleasure building in your stomach. Pools of arousal leak onto his finger down his wrist. You know he can see the cream oozing from your throbbing hole. He seems almost entranced by it.

“Are two cocks even enough for you?” Hyunjin’s buttons lock with your eyes.  “You had one in your mouth and one right in here. And you’re still wanting more.” His finger curls inside. You swear it’s touching your cervix, squeezing so much that your vision nearly goes black.

“You gonna fuck me?” You don’t know how you manage to speak. It comes out more as a challenge than a question, but Hyunjin perks up anyway.

He slows his finger, deep in thought. His lips are still shining with your arousal when he licks them. 

His answer is another digit sliding into your cunt. Now you can feel the light stretch. You completely still for the first time, drinking in the feel of his knuckles dragging up and down your walls.

It’s normally hard to cum from just being fingered, but Hyunjin seems as if he’ll get it on the first try.

“I don’t think you can even handle my fingers, baby.” You can feel his warm breath on your cunt. “Feels like you’ll cum any second.”

You’re trying to hold out, to ignore how his fingers hit that perfect spot and wiggle. You can feel your clit throbbing every time he buries his digits deep, and Hyunjin can’t help but take it into his mouth again.

A near-scream leaves your swollen lips when he licks you. Hyunjin doesn’t hold back in ravishing, nose digging into your swollen nub so his tongue can flick your folds. The pumping of his fingers only quickens, and you can hear how your cunt gushes with every piston of his hand.

“Yesyesyes, I’mma cum. Dontstopdontstop.”

You tug on his hair harshly. It’s almost like you’re trying to pull him off from how raw your cunt is getting, but Hyunjin knows to keep going. The spasming of your walls and your moaning only spurs him on even if your yanking makes him groan.

He only has to pump you a few more times before you come undone. Your stomach caves and your pussy feels like it’s on fire. You can feel the dribbling of your thick cream running down Hyunjin’s fingers.

His digits slow, but they don’t come to a full stop. Hyunjin lets you ride out your orgasm on his face and hand, uncaring for how you move his head down and up down messily on your pussy. He moans with you, making sure to keep his tongue stiff so you can rub your clit on it as you please.

It’s when your grip loosens that he pulls out. You whine from the loss, bucking your hips to catch his fingers, but meeting his lips instead. He kisses you gently, similar to when he started before your eyes turn droopy and your skin glows from the post-orgasm.

You widen your eyes when he pulls away. You nearly forgot about his buttons when you see them again, but you don’t flinch or look in horror this time. Instead, you wrap your legs around his waist when he stands and leans down to place his lips on yours.

You can taste yourself on him. The scent and everything about the kiss feels so real. Even his clothed cock pressing against your bare cunt throbs realistically. You giggle in his mouth, grinding your hips to hear him groan. “Now what? You gonna fuck me?”

Hyunjin smiles with you. He pulls away to make sure he can see you, really see you. It’s one beat of silence that passes, but the intensity of his buttons makes it seem like an eternity. 

“Now, you wake up.”

The worst part about dreams is forgetting them seconds after you wake. But even as you open your eyes to the sunlight streaming in through the window and sit up, you seem to remember everything.

The upper level, the paintings, Hyunjin, and the buttons. 

And of course, the ache between your thighs helps to keep the memories fresh. You should be too tired to get turned on by his plush lips and soft tongue, but your body seems to be awake almost immediately thinking about it.

Chan and Changbin aren’t here to help you with morning sex. Based on the letter they left on you on the bed, they’ve gone to the studio. 

Workaholics.

It still takes a second to get your legs to move without shaking. Your wet dream felt so realistic, so tangible. You could feel his mouth on yours if you tried. You can remember how his buttons gleamed between your legs. 

Too real. So real. 

You need to touch some grass. 

The Pink Palace’s property is huge. You thought the dying garden was a sight to see, but the little woods in the back quickly became your new destination.

If you ignore the creepy atmosphere and dying October trees, you can see this area as bewitching. You like the crunch of dead leaves beneath your boots and the twisting branches. You keep following the pathway until you stumble upon a fairy ring.

Weird. The mushrooms seem to circle perfectly, and you can't stop yourself from stepping right in the middle.

“Stop!” a voice calls in the distance. “Don’t stand there!”

You scream when you hear an engine revving. There’s not enough time to move when the motor rides down the top of the hill. All you feel is dirt hitting your face and strong arms swooping you until you are no longer surrounded by the fungi.

“Put me down!” Your fists connect with his back. Your shouting makes your kidnapper shout, and you swear you can hear the hissing of a cat somewhere.

“Owowow! Stop that!”

You’re set on your feet moments later. The rider stops in front of you to hop off his bike and kick the stand. You’re clutching at your chest when he takes off his helmet, showing a rather shy expression and wide eyes. 

Okay, so not a kidnapper. But a weird guy for sure. It doesn’t help that his black cat sits on a tree stump, blue eyes narrowed accusingly towards you.

That cat looks like just the one in Hyunjin’s painting. 

“Geez.” The man rubs his back, arms bending awkwardly. “You an MMA fighter or something?”

“Who are you?” His comment flies right over. There’s still some adrenaline thrumming in your veins, but you cross your arms and try to act unbothered. “Where did you even come from?”

“Oh.” He turns pink. The man rubs the back of his neck timidly. “I’m Han Jisung. I was riding my bike up there when I saw you walking into the woods. I didn’t mean to uh…follow you.”

The cat stretches uninterestedly when you point a finger at Han Jisung. “You’re stalking me?!”

“No! No, I was just-”

“I don’t like being stalked, not by stalker-weirdo-freaks, or their stupid cats!”

The feline hisses. 

“H-Hey! Don't call him that.” Jisung walks over to the cat, petting it behind the ear. “He’s sensitive. And he’s not mine. Well, maybe a little. I like to feed him at night. He leaves me little dead things as presents. It’s cute.”

You nod slowly. “...right”.

“And I know who you are. You just moved into the Pink Palace, right? My grandma owns the place.” He moves his hand away from the cat that chirps in protest.

“She stopped renting out after…everything.”

You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you can’t help but press. “After everything?”

“Oh, you know.” He laughs nervously. “Just costs a lot to keep a building as old as that one running. Maintaining the upper and lower levels even though they’re closed. Maybe she thought having tenets would help with the bills.”

But he’s talking too fast, too much. Almost as if he’s trying to find something you’ll buy while he flicks the kickstand up and hops on his bike. 

“But uhhh, I hope you’re liking the place! Old houses like that are full of mystery and history.” Jisung lightens up. “Oh! That rhymed. Haha. Uh, be careful where you step next time.” He gestures to the fairy ring. “You were standing on a well.”

You look at the mushrooms. “A well?” But his response is to start the engine. You take a few steps back and watch as he drives up the hill, leaving the stray cat behind.

It looks at you curiously. There’s a shine in its eye that feels more than just an animal. “What? Don’t tell me you’re gonna be my stalker too.”

[fraugwinska]

In reference to Going with the Times: we are getting ready to go to a club with Angel only for Alastor to intervene when he recognizes our “dancing boots”

He couldn’t let us go out dressed so scandalously modern (the horror), so he distracts us

I somehow grew fond of this pairing - so hell yeah, let's do it ;>

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Goody-Two-Shoes

The knock on the door came at the worst timing ever.

You were almost finished, one of the tight, skin-hugging black overknee boots Angel lent you on your left leg, secure and safe. The other one however put up a fight. Inch by inch you had wiggled and wormed your leg down the shaft, cursing under your breath. Your foot was almost down to the heel, but all the work and struggle with this damn fabric made you break into a sweat, resulting in even more friction to overcome.

“Ugh, come on you god-damn, stupid, fucking... COME IN!”, you stuttered, violently pulling at the top of the boots it made you lose your balance. The door opened, and while you fell you could see a very surprised looking radio demon in the door frame before your ass hit the ground and your back bumped against your dresser.

Alastor rushed to your side, reaching his hand out to your groaning figure.

“Oh, my dear, normally I sweep ladies off their feet after I enter a room.”, he joked, pulling you back up. You didn't dare to let go of his hand, still wobbly from the ill-fitting left boot and the pain in your back from the impact.

“Hilarious, Al, really nice to pull my leg like that when I'm hurtin'. Ouch...”, you grumble, rubbing your sore behind. He chuckled at your little quip but led you carefully to your bed, where you sat down, sighing. Only then did he recognize the very thing that had you in such a struggle. His brow rose, his face displaying a dangerously condescending expression.

“May I ask why you are binding yourself in these... atrosities?”

Ignoring the throbbing pain in your back, you returned to pulling the unruly shaft up your leg again.

“They... are... overknees...”, with another hard tug, your heel finally slipped through. You sighed with relief and brushed your sweaty fringe out of your face. “Angel invited me to go to a club with him and Cherri, and he lent me these!”

You stretched out your legs and tapped your heels together, grinning at him. “They look just like the ones in the photo, right?”

“Indeed.”, he said, but even though he didn't lose his smile, his eyes traveled from your heels over your legs and the seams of the boots to the bare skin of your thighs, only broken by your shimmering hot pants. “And just as outrageous.” Alastor tilted his head, eyes narrowed. “You do not intend to wear this in public, do you, darling?”

“After spending half an hour just putting those on? Of course I do.”

His disbelieving look made you laugh. It was a never-ending discussion between you two, a tug-and-pull between your sometimes vastly different opinions of modernity. You often fought with him, always in good nature, and everyone in the hotel was convinced you had a golden tongue for how often Alastor let you win these arguments.

Alastor hummed thoughtfully, brows furrowed and staring at the crushed black leather. You were already moving to stand up when his hand suddenly grabbed one of your ankles and he pulled your foot up, making you fall onto your back into your mattress.

“Hey!”

“Half an hour, you say?”, his eyes glimmered with impish mischief. “So much effort, just for the meager fun of catching the eye of a lowly, no-name sinner in a dance club? You can do so much better than that, my sweet.”

He hooked a claw under the seam of your boot, leg still up in his firm grip, and you watched with anger and confusion as he slowly pulled the fabric down. “AL! Stooooop, I'll never get them up again.”, you whined, hands reaching out to stop him but he shifted his weight, puling your leg even higher while he turned his body, kneeling – no, towering - over you. He rested your ankle between his shoulder and his cheek, eyes still fixated on you as his other hand joined the already working hand in his efforts to get you out of the tight sleve of your shoe. It looked.... sinful almost, oddly hot, and the way his eyes burned into yours made you 1. shut up and 2. flush in deepest magenta.

“Why searching for the companionship of strangers, dressed in such a mundane way, when one could keep the company of a dear friend who doesn't care about what you'll wear?”

He gripped the heel and pulled the loosened sleeve off in one, swift motion. You gulped, the atmosphere had shifted to something other than playful banter. He seemed almost seductive, the way his voice lost most of his standard radio filter, reducing into a dark whisper.

“I.. um.. “, you said eloquently when a sudden, loud “HOLY SHIT!” made both of your heads turn. Angel looked like he'd just seen a naked, tap dancing James Dean, he was beet-red (likely rivaling your own color), dressed up to the nines in fur and latex and his mouth stood wide agape.

“Y-You know what, toots, I, um, You... fuck, yeah, you'll take a rain check, seems like you are otherwise... Yeah. See 'ya!”, the spider stuttered, completely floored at this display, backing out slowly and slamming the door shut.

You covered your face with your hands – tomorrow the whole hotel will know about this.

“I guess I won't go out tonight.”, you mumble, embarassed. You tried to sit up, but Alastors sly smile didn't fade as he let your now undressed leg slide down and began to slip the other shoe off.

“Don't worry, darling, I'll make sure you'll have fun anyways.”

[captainuranium543]

Ft headcanons nobody wanted part 2

-natsu will occasionally get genuinely jealous over his friends owning appliances for heating. Why should they need those things when they have him, if they just call him over her do a way better job then any of those stupid gadgets. He finds out gray owns a hair dryer and immediately becomes a jealous ex girlfriend. He confronts Lucy in her apartment one night acting so serious he she doesn't even get mad that he broke in, then just goes "care to explain this?" And puts a lighter on the table.

- Wendy is very very quiet. Creepily so. Not elaborating but I think you can imagine the kinds of situations this leads to.

- Mira's eyes glow in the dark and it creeps everyone the fuck out

- erza has the worst hoarding problem. Her dorm room is entirely piled floor to ceiling with boxes of meticulously organized random items she refuses to throw out for some reason

young Mira: "alright this is ridiculous why do you even have this"

Young erza: "say what you want but when you need 746 packets of Mcnolias sweet and sour sauce and find your supply baron I'll be laughing"

- levy is one of the few members of the guild who actively sought it out to join. Before fairy tail she was an orphan and a student studying magic. She left to join fairy tail to learn more about magic in general from real world experience.

- laki will sometimes build creepily realistic wooden statues of her guild mates and leave them around in inconspicuous places so when you find them they scare the shit out of you. Sometimes she hides them too well and it takes years to discover them.

- Lucy has actually written several unpublished novels and the only other person who's ever seen them is levy. Lucy thinks their crap but levy carefully annotates every single one.

- laxus used to occasionally be forced to go on jobs with erza and Mira when they were young both to help and to make sure they didn't kill each other and he hated it.

- I think I might have said this before but I firmly believe levy, Lucy, freed and jellal later on all form a book club because they love reading, the problem is they all have vastly different tastes in book so they can never decide what to read each week and usually just end up playing Scrabble and talking shit about their various teammates

"please guys trust me this one's good"

"I am NOT reading Colleen Hoover Lucy and that's final"

- this one's based on city hero but I personally believe erza and Erik find a shocking common ground over motorcycles. Erza likes vehicles in general and Erik took up bike racing as a hobby, since discovering this is the longest they've been able to be in the same room together without someone throwing a punch.

- Wendy visits lamia scale regularly still to hang out with chelia. she usually brings romeo and they all go out to do whatever dumb kid stuff they want. (Tbh I just like her having friends her own age)

-lucy sometimes randomly lets her rich girl's heritage show in random conversation and it's always jarring. You'll be having a normal chill convo with her and then she'll look you dead in the eyes and ask you what colour your personal carriage was growing up.

- Natsu is genuinely a really good cook he just has a terrible taste so nobody wants to eat his food. For reference he only ever cooks his food because he enjoys doing it to him it tastes fine either way.

- if you had asked the fairy tail guild who the scariest guild member was in early season 1 the answers would have been erza, guildarts, laxus etc all the usual suspects. Once season 2 starts however the answer is unanimous. It's juvia. Juvia is fucking terrifying when she gets mad. You don't realize how scary water can be until it's filling your lungs and as your vision blurs until all you can see is her merciless stare.

- Mira and freed can drink blood for demon reasons. gray can too after getting devil slayer but he thinks its gross. Surprisingly so can gajeel because of the high iron content.

- gray the type of guy who's bed has only the smallest thinnest blanket on his bed and usually it's on the ground cuz he gets too hot

- meanwhile erza is the type of girl to have so many pillows, blankets and plushies on her bed you wonder how she fucking sleeps in it. Mf has a NEST.

- Lucy isn't even surprised anymore when she finds people in her house, she doesn't know how they keep getting in and honestly she doesn't care anymore she's to tired to deal with it.

- freed plays a lot of really fucking weird instruments. Idk it just seems like something he would do.

- bixlow can speak most languages and it's always really surprising when he randomly says smth like "oh yea I can speak ancient nirvid no prob" like that's totally normal

- if laxus and freed ever did get together (in my heart it's cannon) evergreen and bixlow would be their biggest haters. Yea they love them and they're happy for them but also EW. GROSS. GET A ROOM.

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: leaving your old life behind, you move to copenhagen to follow your dream of opening a restaurant. almost a year after opening, luca's quest for inspiration brings him right to your doorstep.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2500

a/n: remember when i said we'd get pastry chef luca fanfic whether we liked it or not? well, it seems i can't be normal about anything bc i have an outline of (potentially) 10 chapters right now based on this headcanon. while i try to keep reader characters pretty neutral so that you can picture yourself, i have this reader creating food from her own life experiences/cultures so do what you will with that. also, i tagged some peeps from my headcanon post, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed.

masterlist | part two

He’s in search of inspiration when he finds the restaurant – your restaurant. 

It’s an American stagiaire and a single conversation that makes him realize that he’s missing something – that he’s been in need of something fresh, a new perspective– setting him on his quest. 

The best things are inspired. 

Luca stares at a blank piece of paper for what feels like hours, writing a few things down, sketching up an idea, before viciously crossing them out, hopelessly stuck on new ideas for the new menu. After a few half-baked ideas that go nowhere, It occurs to him that he may be in need of a little inspiration himself. He can’t think of the last time he’s taken his own advice, mulling over the carefully-chosen words of wisdom imparted to Marcus a couple of weeks ago, and he’s determined to change that. 

A review in the paper, an old colleague’s recent trip there, and a glowing recommendation from a close friend are what bring him to the restaurant. 

He’s not sure what to expect – having forgone any interest in cuisine described with the words trendy or fusion a long time ago – but Luca reminds himself that it’s the writer’s word choice, not the chef’s, when writing the article. 

When Luca steps into the small home-turned-restaurant, he’s immediately inundated with a warmth, a homeyness, that takes him by surprise. From the open kitchen, to the golden lighting, it feels vastly different from the classic Danish-style, fine dining establishments that have swept the country. 

But Luca reminds himself that the announcement of noma’s 2024 closure, has shifted the conversation around dining culture in Denmark, and already, he can feel that this is the breath of fresh air that he’s been looking for. 

Luca’s seated quickly with care and hospitality by a highly-attentive host, which he only assumes is a symptom of the fact that he read somewhere that you’re an American. While Danish, the host is boisterous, as if he’s known Luca since childhood. Luca smiles politely in response, graciously thanking the man and his chocolate brown curls. 

The menu is small, indicating that each dish receives enough care to be excellent and he likes that, despite being described as trendy and fusion-focused, your menu is creative. It’s different. It’s inspired. 

He chooses the special of the day: the mapo tofu bolognese – a traditionally Italian concept done from an Asian perspective – and the suggested wine pairing.

It doesn’t take long for him to receive his glass of wine, or his food, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how efficient service seems. Stealing glances through the open kitchen, he watches as you and your sous lead dinner service with a kind of compassionate leadership and playfulness that warms him from the inside out. 

“We recommend mixing the whipped tofu into the dish for a creamier sauce. Skal,” his waitress greets, with a warm smile on her face as she sets down the bowl of noodles. 

“Cheers,” Luca replies, his eyes savoring every single detail of the dish. 

It’s somehow elevated, thoughtful, and elegant, yet comforting all at once. 

Luca picks up his fork, using it to collect a little bit of everything – a perfect noodle twirl with just enough sauce, and ground pork before running his fork the whipped topping – raising the fork to his lips for his first bite. 

As the flavors hit his tongue, he closes his eyes, and it’s as if time has stopped, just for a moment. 

The wheat noodles are perfectly al dente while the whipped tofu is almost ricotta-like, transforming into a silky smooth addition to the dish, cutting the tingle and heat of the Sichuan chili peppercorn-based sauce. 

The corners of his lips turn up as he takes a breath, opening his eyes as he savors the delicate layers of flavors. With a crooked smile on his face, he decides that he’ll most certainly be back next week. 

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

You make peace with the fact that tonight is one of those nights – a slow night – as you finish washing your hands. It being a slow night, you’d encouraged your staff to up the hospitality at the pre-shift meeting. Treating guests with the utmost personal touches in an effort to build genuine connections would be the focus of tonight’s slow service. In fact, you and Mathilde, your sous chef, had been running dishes out this evening – something you rarely had the luxury to do. 

“You should go say hello,” your sous encourages, nodding towards the dining room through the expansive window of the open kitchen. 

“Thought it was your turn,” you reply in a casual tone, paying no attention to who she’s referencing.

“No, I think you should take this one,” Mathilde nudges you, causing you to look up. You shoot her a funny look, your eyes flickering over the mischievous expression she has on her face, to where she’s gestured towards. 

“To-?” you begin to ask, before seeing exactly who she’s talking about.

“Ehm. Tall, blonde, and tatted!” she emphasizes in a whisper yell. 

You don’t really need the description as you glance over at the dining room, easily spotting the man seated at a two-seater near the front window.

“You’re right. He’s become a bit of a regular,” you agree with a curt nod that means all business, no pleasure, as you move a few things as you walk and talk around the kitchen, tidying up.

“That’s not what I meant,” she scoffs with a playful eye roll. 

“You know, Jesper thought he was Swedish because… look at him… but he’s apparently a Brit,” she gossips with you, her eyes stealing a glance his way. “We’re slow tonight. He’s here every week. Sure he’d appreciate a direct thank you from the chef!” 

“I-,” you hesitate, wondering why she’s so damn insistent on this. “... yeah, alright. I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl!” Mathilde cheers, in a sing-song voice, she hands you the beautifully plated bowl of pasta to take out to the dining room.

As you walk over towards his table, you make a note that it seems as if the mystery man has made this a bit of a routine. He shows every Saturday at exactly 7 pm, week after week, for the past month or so, as if it’s a standing date he has with himself. After his first visit, you half-expected him to bring a date when he returned, or bring a group of friends, or for something different to happen. 

But it hadn’t and you’ve watched him come in, week after week, with a different book each time. He always orders the special of the day and whatever suggested wine pairing Jesper’s recommended that week.

Most Saturday nights you're busy leading a kitchen or cooking on the line – having little to no time to fixate or wonder curiously over your weekly diner – but tonight’s pace affords you the luxury to spend more time at the front of house. Truthfully, you know it’s the thing that sets you apart. Sure, the hospitality here in Copenhagen is excellent, but you bring an American hospitality-style to this restaurant – and above and beyond mentality – that feels welcoming, personal, even, as if your restaurant itself is just an extension of your home. 

You’ve heard your staff – front of house and back of house – whispering about him, all seemingly enamored and enchanted by the charming Brit. All any of you knew about him was that his name was Luca and that he’s always more than kind to your front of house staff. 

He doesn’t say much when he comes in, you’ve noticed, but every Saturday at 7 pm, he’s pushing his way through the front door with punctuality and a gentle ease.

The whisperings from your staff had all revolved around who your mysterious regular must be: whether he was Danish or Swedish, that someone that good looking must already have a partner, that he doesn’t wear a ring. 

You hadn’t paid much attention to the gossip (or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself) more focused on running dinner service then trying to piece together the story of your handsome, mysterious regular. 

“Hello,” you greet him warmly. “I just wanted to come introduce myself and say thank you for becoming one of our regulars. Your support means a lot to all of us.”

“Hi, I’m Luca.”

You share your name with a smile as he shakes your hand. 

Luca turns his attention down to the bowl you’ve put in front of him, his eyes taking in the beautiful presentation hungrily. 

“Wow, this looks… incredible,” he marvels, returning his gaze back to you. 

“Thank you. I’m sure my front of house already walked you through this but if you’d like for me to-,” you begin. 

“Yes, that’d be great, thanks,” he interjects, a crooked smile on his face that makes your heart skip a beat. 

You have to pull your attention away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice that you’re quite possibly gawking at him. 

He’s kind, charming, and he’s easy on the eyes (easy on the eyes, really being an understatement here).

“Today’s special was inspired by a childhood favorite of mine,” you begin, walking him through each component of the dish. 

Crispy Rice. Caramelized marinated trumpet mushrooms and charred broccolini. Your mom’s sauce approached with classic French techniques, courtesy of your sous, Mathilde, a classically French-trained chef. 

It’s a marriage of your story. Of the people around you. It’s your heart and theirs, put into a dish. 

“You’re the chef?” he asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. 

“Yes,” you answer, trying your best to get a read on him. 

He balks, and you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to respond. Was he surprised that you’re a woman? That he’s been eating your food the whole time and expected a male chef? Before you can overthink it, Luca clarifies with:

“I’m sorry. It’s just-, I can't think of the last time I saw a head chef work front of house, let alone with this much care.” 

Oh. 

You let down your guard, wondering why you’d assumed the worst when the man’s been nothing but kind to you and your staff so far. 

"We're a little short staffed tonight. And I love getting to talk to diners… especially on nights like this,” you explain, trying your best to sound like you hadn’t just assumed that he was a sexist asshole. 

He shakes his head in disbelief, looking down at the picturesque bowl, then back to you.

Luca is impressed, and he has no intention of hiding it.

He picks up his wine glass by the stem, raising it to you.

"Cheers,” he says. “And thank you. This is a really beautiful dish.”

“Of course. Enjoy,” you reply, giving him a polite smile, before heading back into the kitchen. 

 -------------------------------

“Good service tonight, everybody!” Jesper, your front of house manager, announces while clapping a few times to signal to staff that it’s time for a post shift meeting. 

As you all gather in the pristine front of house space. Some of your cooks have taken their aprons off, others haven’t had a moment to unwind from the shift yet – business picking up in the last hour or so of service. 

Jesper goes through his nightly wrap-up notes, celebrating the wins of tonight, and making sure to celebrate how everyone rallied to pick up pace when business spiked. He’s gregarious, larger-than-life, the kind of person who can talk to anyone about anything, making him an excellent front of house manager, and even better sommelier. You really lucked out with the twins, you think to yourself – with Jesper and Mathilde – when they were more than eager to work with you on opening this restaurant. 

“Oh, and before we go, a client left a gift… table number four,” Jesper says, in reference to Luca’s table. He pulls a tan-colored pastry box from another table, setting it down on a table where everyone can take a look. 

“As a thank you. He requested for me to share. So have it and let’s make a note next time he’s in to really treat him like a VIP.”

One of your most-talented servers opens the box, eliciting a chorus of gasps, giggles, and excited whispers as soon as the assortment of croissants and pastries are revealed. 

You and Mathilde exchange a look as everyone else busy themselves with unpacking the pastry box. Mathilde raises an eyebrow and you’re not sure what to say. Witnessing your silent exchange, Jesper makes his way over to the both of you, before extending his arm to reveal the card he’s holding. 

“And this, my dear…” he begins, exchanging a look with his sister. “...is for you.”

“What do you-, just me?” you ask as you take it, hesitantly. 

“I think so, yeah,” he nods, confidently. 

To the Chef, the front of the card reads. 

“Jesper, let’s check out some of these pastries, yeah?” Mathilde suggests, not so subtly hinting towards her brother. 

He nods, giving you a little space so that you can read the card Luca’s left for you. 

As your staff divvy up the box of laminated pastries, sighing with joy as they taste the decadent, hand-crafted sweets, you take a few steps away to open the note. His handwriting is pristine – perfectly neat in every way, like he’s written over carefully measured invisible lines.

Chef,

Thank you for all of the great meals. I'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it. 

Tomorrow. 5 pm. Dronningens Tværgade 2, 1302

While Luca’s gift has been more-than-generous, you find yourself overwhelmed by questions. Was he a chef too? And why had he not said anything? And what was this gesture all about anyways?

You read the card a few more times, turning the words over in your head as you try to make sense of it. 

Mathilde can see your overwhelm, your eyebrows knitted into one confused expression as she saunters back over to you.

“What does it say?” she asks, curiously. “A love confession perhaps?”

“Mathilde, you really have to stop reading all of those French romance novels!” you tease her. “It’s giving you too many ideas.”

“It’s the only way I keep up with my French!” she defends herself with a lackadaisical shrug, earning a laugh from you.

“Uh no… it’s actually a thank you card… only I think he… wants to feed me,” you share with her, holding the card out so that she can take a look. 

“He’s a chef too?” she asks, taking the card from your hands. 

“I think so, yeah,” you reply, letting out an exasperated laugh. 

“Oh shit!” Mathilde exclaims, as soon as she sees the address that Luca’s written down. 

“What?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something you missed. 

“The address… that’s AOC. I think he’s a chef at AOC, babe,” she gasps, shaking her head as she hands the card back to you, sending a ‘you lucky, bitch’ look your way.

Oh shit, is right.

[anghraine]

There's this weird genre of post I've periodically seen that's like "It bothers me that autistic people come onto this site and vent about the pressure to accommodate mainstream social norms that seem unnatural to them, and these people just don't seem to get that mainstream social norms serve a function that makes them right and good, so 'help' consisting of pressuring autistic people into unnatural 24/7 performance is actually great. Really, autistic people need to meet the allistics halfway and accommodate us as well!"

Obviously, these posts aren't phrased this way—the style is usually more patronizingly helpful with a hint of chiding autistic strangers for venting on their own blogs about one of the most basic diagnostic criteria of autism. But the thing that always strikes me about these "helpful" explanations is how incredibly sheltered they seem.

I can't speak for all autistic people. But a lot of treatment for autism has historically been rooted in teaching autistic people to mimic "normal" behavior as much as possible. Success has often been understood less in terms of the strain of this mimicry on autistic people or how viscerally unpleasant it is for an autistic person to perform this way, and more in terms of the comfort of people around us. The less perceptible our symptoms are to other people, the greater the perception of success in most cases, although research increasingly suggests that "social camouflaging" is actively harmful to autistic people no matter how good we seem at it.

Yes, there's a reason for social norms. I know. Many of us know. We have been incessantly told this our entire lives and live under extreme pressure to adapt to the allistic world. We are under vastly more pressure to accommodate the social norms of our communities than most allistic people seem to even remotely grasp. All this "don't label yourself, it's all just a social construction" and "you're high-functioning, though, so-" and "WELL ACTUALLY it is morally incumbent on you to imitate our social norms" only makes this absolute abyss of ignorance seem all the deeper. It feels rather like Protestant proselytizers in the USA who walk up and are like "have you heard about Jesus?!" as if it is remotely possible to live in this country without hearing about Jesus.

Secondly, the idea that the weight of accommodating these different experiences should rest equally on allistic and autistic people is actually pretty grotesque—yes, even if you're talking about autistic people without specifically intellectual disabilities. Where is all this endless understanding and patience for the allistic world we're expected to develop when it comes to accommodating us? Usually completely absent, and even when we do receive some degree of empathy, it still seems incredibly unequal to the demand on us.

But even if that were not the case, the idea that ethically, the people with, you know, autism are under some moral onus to equally accommodate allistic people (especially allistic people who do not have any similar disabilities themselves, which is most of them!) is absurd. Most allistic people are more able to adapt to changing circumstances than autistic people and experience less strain from doing it, they are better and faster at correctly interpreting social situations and emotional cues, and social performance is easier and more natural for them, and they overwhelmingly outnumber autistic people. The logic here just seems absurd.

And thirdly this scary danger of "high functioning" autistic people not trying to accommodate the norms and comfort of allistic people on some broad scale is not happening. Here's one fairly clear discussion that isn't paywalled:

In fact, high-functioning ASD individuals were reported to be more aware of their communication difficulties and were more likely make considerable efforts to adjust their behavior to conventional rules of non-autistic individuals, learning to imitate other non-ASD individuals. Moreover, females reported a higher frequency of camouflaging strategies, suggesting a role of camouflaging in the gender gap of the ASD diagnosis. Although camouflaging strategies can sometimes grant a better level of adjustment, even resulting in a hyper-adaptive behavior, they are also often correlated with negative mental health consequences due to the long-term stress associated with continuous attempts to adapt in day-to-day life.

Seriously, the world being just too easy on autistic people and letting them actually show signs of being autistic (God forbid) without sufficient chiding is not a thing. It's not real in any significant large-scale way; the exact reverse is vastly more common. Annoying autistic people on Tumblr dot com are not a social problem.

[thankskenpenders]

One question that's been haunting me since I binge-read most of the blog whilst doing testing is: in your opinion, what is the primary difference in the worlds of Archie Sonic and IDW Sonic? Obviously part of that is Penders' influence vs. Ian's influence, one's obviously based more on the games than the others, etc... but I feel like more than that, the two comics have a vastly different feel in terms of how their world generally just works in-universe. I'd like to know if this makes any sense, or if I'm just crazy.

I mean, the IDW world literally is the game world now, so yes, there are some pretty huge differences that are immediately apparent.

I'd say that where both incarnations of the Archie universe were much more of an "anything goes" sci-fi/fantasy world with all these different factions and kingdoms and whatnot, the IDW comics depict a more mundane modern/near-future setting that just so happens to have some highly stylized scenery and be inhabited by cartoon furries. (And off-screen humans, now that the two worlds have been reunited, I guess.)

I mean, it's right there in the names of the planet. Archie was set on the fantastical world of Mobius, but the IDW comics are just on a fictional version of Earth. Most of the sci-fi elements are Eggman's creations. There are still plenty of fantasy elements, but they tend to be hidden better. They're a thing for Sonic and his friends and enemies to discover on their adventures, not an everyday fact of life for the normies. In the Archie comics you had people living in medieval kingdoms and underwater societies and Mad Max wastelands and floating utopias and all this other stuff, but in the IDW comics they tend to live in pretty normal modern cities. I'd argue that this makes Sonic feel like more of a larger-than-life hero in the IDW comics, since he's always seeking out adventures in these corners of the world that the average person doesn't know about. Joe from Station Square's never been to somewhere like Sky Sanctuary or Little Planet

I know some Archie fans think this means the worldbuilding in IDW is "bad" or "boring" since there aren't a bunch of high-concept fantasy locations being introduced, but it's just different. The way they did things at Archie was fun, but this matches the vibe of the games much better

[my-castles-crumbling]

Of Romance and Play Practice

@wolfstarbingo2024 - square: nerdy Remus - rating: G - no warnings - word count: 974 - based on @probs-reading's HC - AO3 link

To this day, Remus still couldn't figure out how they all were friends. They took up vastly different social circles. Like a smaller version of the Breakfast Club, he, Sirius, James, and Peter were as opposite as could be. James was the school basketball star, cheerleaders constantly hanging off his elbows (much to his boyfriend, Regulus's, disgust). Peter ran the yearbook, and was never seen without a notebook and a camera. Remus, of course, was the textbook definition of a nerd: he was the president of Chess Club, and took more AP classes than all of his friend combined. And Sirius....Sirius was perfect.

Sirius was the star of the theater program, having finally figured out how to put his dramatics to good use. He lived for the stage, and the audience ate him up no matter what his role. Of course, Remus ate him up, too. Or at least, he wanted to.

They'd all been friends since elementary school. Perhaps that was why they were able to stay close, no matter their differences. But Remus's crush on Sirius had developed quite recently, and for some reason, he couldn't shake it.

Perhaps it was the way Sirius oozed confidence. His smile was absolutely contagious and it made Remus literally weak at the knees, often times he had to sit down after Sirius grinned at him. Maybe it was the way he felt safe with Sirius. Though they loved to tease each other, Sirius never judged him when it mattered, and they'd been friends for so long, they knew each other as well as they knew themselves.

Of course, it helped that Sirius was fit as fuck.

But that wasn't it. It was...Remus couldn't help but feel warm when he looked at him. It was a bit disgusting, really.

But one night, when Sirius asked him to help run lines for the new play he was a part of, Remus agreed, because he wanted to help. He figured eventually, this crush would go away, so he should just continue spending time with Sirius like normal, acting like nothing was different. But when he read the name of the play, he froze.

"Erm...Romeo and Juliet?" he asked Sirius, who was sat on his bed, shucking his leather jacket and making himself comfortable.

"Mmm," he hummed noncommittally. "Good thing McKinnon's as flaming as I am, or I'd be dreading the kiss," he grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

And of course. Of course, Sirius needed him to practice running lines for the most romantic play in the fucking universe. What else?

"Alright," he murmured, sitting nervously on the edge of his own bed, as far from Sirius as possible. "Erm, what scene?"

"Let's start..." Sirius flipped through the script, stopping at a page and pointing. "There. I'm having trouble with the emotion, to be honest. If you could just read for McKinnon, that'd be amazing."

But Remus's stomach flipped as he looked over the script, recognizing the scene. The fucking balcony scene?

"Erm, alright," he nodded, trying to pull himself together. "How camest thou hither- er - tell me, and wherefore? Erm, the orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, of any of my, erm, kinsmen find thee here," he recited disjointedly.

Sirius chuckled and responded fluidly, "With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls. For stony limits cannot hold love out." His eyes were wide, genuine, and Remus became entranced as he listened. "And what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me."

It took Remus a second to realize he was done. That it was his turn to respond. Because hearing Sirius speak of love like this, it was doing things to him. "Oh!" he nearly yelled as Sirius gave him an expectant look, jumping a bit. "Erm. If- if they to see thee, they will murder thee. Fuck, this is intense, huh?" he commented, scanning over the script.

Sirius laughed and ignored his comment, going on, "Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords. Look though but sweet, and I am proof against their enmity." He said those words with a small smile, eyes on Remus's.

"I...I would not for the world they saw thee here," Remus nearly-whispered, looking at the paper and back at Sirius, who was still watching him with a strange look in his eyes.

"I have night's clock to hide me from their eyes," he whispered, moving closer to Remus- and when had he gotten so close, they were side-by-side, now!- grabbing his hand lightly. "And, but thou love me, let them find me here. My life were better ended by their hate than death prorogued, wanting of thy love."

Remus swallowed, drowning in the look Sirius was giving him, squeezing his hand and allowing the heat and tension to wrap around their bodies. He wasn't imagining it, was he? Was Sirius feeling it, too? The way the very air was pulsating, urging him to move forward, to bring their lips together?

He hoped so.

"Sirius," he murmured, his head hazy, hardly bothering to look at the book, too distracted by the moment.

But Sirius seemed to be contemplating something. "Move not while my prayer's effect I take," he murmured, causing Remus to wrinkle his nose in confusion, before Sirius leaned forward, hand grazing over Remus's jaw and pulling their lips together.

And it was like fireworks. Hearing Sirius talk about love with the words of a poet had just made Remus's crush bloom into something more, and he couldn't resist grabbing for him, wrapping his arms around the other boy, pulling him closer until they were completely entangled in each other, their lips and teeth fighting for control of the best kiss Remus had ever had in his life.

[ovaryacted]

This is my analysis post in response to this wonderful ask I got from one of my anons. Thank you so much for the brain juice, my neurons thank you. So: Is Leon S. Kennedy a sex-god or is he just a regular guy? Let's talk about it.

1.1k Words | cw: suggestive sexual content

To me it’s not a controversial take to think of Leon as someone who isn’t a sex god, that is actually how I perceive Leon in my mind when it comes to sex as a whole. Sure, with the pieces I’ve already put out of him, I characterize him as someone who has chemistry with his partner and he’s already learned how to be with them in all aspects. But realistically with his current circumstances, it would probably be more close to what was initially described. He's touched deprived, pathetic, and would probably fall apart the moment someone touches him like he's a porcelain doll.

Leon isn’t a sex god at all. He’s just a guy, and by canon, he’s a loser who doesn’t get laid anyway. I also wouldn’t expect him to have many opportunities to be with other people intimately. In RE2R at least, he gives off the impression that he hasn’t done much, maybe not even kissed outside of Ada when they’re on the shuttle together. And of course, the opportunity for more gets ripped away from him when Raccoon City happens and he gets forced into military service.

If he had any chance to be with someone prior, it’s a definite no now. He just doesn’t have time when he’s constantly fighting with PTSD, depression, and immense trauma that he doesn’t even register most of the time. He’s too busy surviving, too busy being brought on these missions where he thinks it’ll be the last time he’ll be alive, and then somehow he manages to come back home just to repeat the process. Rinse and repeat, live to kill, and survive to do it again and again. That’s his routine, that was his new normal for years.

So sex or any intimate relationship is out of the question. He just stops caring, and the stress that he’s constantly dealing with in his body makes his libido plummet. Leon doesn’t go searching for it, sometimes he thinks his body doesn’t even work anymore or that his dick is about to fall off. Though in the back of his mind, there are faint little moments where he craves intimacy, not so much sex but the touch of another person who isn’t an enemy is what he wants.

Leon has had a limited handful of sexual encounters, but it’s never coming from a place of desire. He does things based on instinct, and it’s simply for stress relief. Usually, it’s a quickie, he doesn’t allow himself to feel relief beyond what’s available to him. He blocks out everything from his mind, and his body is on autopilot. The worst part about it is when it happens there’s no softness to it, it’s not necessarily rough to the point of pain, but it’s not intimate in the way he wishes it was.

That way of behaving goes on for a while until he’s older, probably when he’s hitting his 30s and it’s virtually second nature to him. He gets lucky and meets someone he likes being with, which changes the way he thinks about relationships. He now has the opportunity to experience what it’s like to be with someone outside of moral obligation. Of course, it happens over time, and it’s not instantaneous, it takes a while for him to be fully comfortable with exploring vulnerability. But the more he gets to know his partner and spends time with them, the more he realizes it isn’t so bad to want to be with somebody.

The way he acts around them is vastly different from how he’s operated in the past with previous temporary partners. He quickly realizes that he doesn’t want to do things fast or rushed and that he wants to take his time. He’s not inclined to jump headfirst into the whole sex part, instead, he focuses more on the other stuff, on the gentle touches and the yearning. 

It starts with delicate kisses and slowly grows into more purposeful touching. He gets experimental, squeezes on his partner’s body a bit more, and does something that makes them gasp or moan, or they’ll touch him in a way that makes a groan rumble out of his chest. Something in his brain finally clicks and it’s like all of the blood in his body rushes down south, and for the first time, he feels aroused. It’s like his body begins to pulse, he’s getting warm, and Leon finds himself wanting more, wanting to touch and be touched.

The time he gets to have sex, and genuinely desires it, it feels different. His body is hotter, he feels more sensitive to things as his senses go into overdrive and his partner is all he can focus on. In a way, he thinks less about the expectations to perform and more about feelings. It wouldn’t happen naturally either, he’d have to be coaxed into it, reminded that it’s okay to want to experience intimacy, to crave it.

Once he feels like he’s in a safe space with another person, he’ll know it’s okay to be selfish for once, but I don’t think he’s an inherently selfish partner or person, quite the opposite. Leon is a people pleaser, so he’ll want to learn how to please his partner. He’s naturally perceptive, he pays attention to things that make them tick, that make them feel good. Like a chameleon, he adapts the same way how he does on his missions, trying to make sense of the situations before him so he can get the best result.

It’s a very emotionally charged experience for Leon, where he feels better than good, stuck in a daze the moment he decides to indulge himself in whatever is currently ahead of him. It’s so intense for him that he’ll mumble out praises, whether it be to his partner or himself, certain things will slip out.

If he’s really in the mood, he would accidentally say the L word (love) if it’s that good, but that would probably happen when he feels vulnerable and safe, so he is more on the receiving side and more submissive. I think it would be a combination of his emotions and just feeling safe in another human’s touch, one that doesn’t feel like an obligation. Either way, he’s a softie, and someone who wants intimacy so his sexual habits would reflect that with age, and when he gets a partner that’s willing to be soft and patient with him it’ll work in his favor.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[guardian-angle22]

My favorite things from episode 5.05 …in no particular order

- TK turning to Tommy to talk about things he normally would've called his mom about. and looking so nervous at first to approach her about it. but then receiving some amazing advice. 🥺

- probie!Judd continuing to provide us with quality content such as his face when asked to get a mop to clean up after a HORSE at the FIRE STATION.

- Carlos making TK brisket and kugel "the best comfort food my people have to offer"

- Cowboy!Owen lassoing a horse from the top of a fire truck. THIS SHOW IS SO UNSERIOUS.

- Carlos using company ranger work time to attempt to make custom stationary with a cutout of him and TK at their wedding with lyrics from the song played at their wedding. like that was actually not a terrible idea, bud... maybe... actually still do that.

- Carlos pushing TK into a dresser. We knew it was coming and while the context of the scene was vastly different than I expected... I simply will never be upset with more instances of their enthusiastic make outs.

- the entire therapy scene. it was comedic, it was heartbreaking. the awkward silence and pauses were so good.

- confirmation tk is still playing softball... jock!TK is so canon!

- the love and care TK and Carlos have for each other. they're 'going through a rough patch' but it's still so obvious how much they love each other. and that's all that matters at the end of the day.