#which has actually been under the most control it's been in years i barely even consider myself (physicslly) disabled these days

[suffercerebral]

me having gone to bed at 6 am every day for the past week and generally spiraling mentally while rotting in bed waking up this morning: a 4 mile hike in the heat is a really good idea right now, and while we're at it let's start like 3 art projects

[suzukiblu]

If you feel up for it, for the writing meme prompt, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, with the song You And Me by Lifehouse? If it's not your thing I totally get it though and hope you have a great time and fun writing the things that do catch your fancy!

I think we ALL knew that I was gonna do baby Kon for this, lbr. Also ngl, this came out way more cracky than the prompt would suggest it should've but it is absolutely my favorite thing I’ve written for this meme so far, as the necessity for the following cut should help attest, haha.

Unfortunately, Lex takes one look at Cadmus’s progress report on the newly-crafted Experiment Thirteen and realizes he has paternal instincts. 

Well, that’s inconvenient. And a little disgusting, honestly. Certainly a disappointment. 

He supposes it could be worse. He could be Lionel about this. 

Anyway, that’s how he has a physiological four year-old on his lap when he hears the news about Superman coming back to life and fistfighting an evil cyborg with his own face about it, because of course the man didn’t have the decency to just stay dead. Why would he, after all? 

Lex needs a drink. That would be a bad example for the physiological four year-old, though. 

Then again, Experiment Thirteen should be completely immune to the effects of Earth-based alcohol in about another four to six months of consistent yellow sun exposure, so . . . 

Lex is halfway through his second brandy when Superman shows up on his balcony at super-speed wearing a very pretentiously dramatic black suit and looking both winded and bewildered. And still alive, unfortunately. 

“Don’t you have a murderous cyborg to be ensuring is in custody?” Lex asks dryly, deciding to just not acknowledge the presence of the physiological four year-old who’s moved on to messily but methodically coloring on the floor underneath his desk. Lex didn’t actually give Experiment Thirteen either a coloring book or crayons, mind, but he appreciates the clone’s resourcefulness in breaking into the office supplies. Anyway, it’s useful for developing its hand-eye coordination and fine motor control. 

Superman’s pupils are pin-pricks, barely even there at all. Which is an unusual reaction from him, and Lex notes that fact reflexively but doesn’t particularly care about it. Meant-to-be-dead people do unusual things, especially the alien ones. And it isn’t as if–

“Baby,” Superman blurts, his eyes wide. 

Lex . . . pauses. Takes a slow sip of his brandy. 

Alright then. 

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” he settles on eventually, raising an eyebrow at him. Experiment Thirteen peers out from under the desk, immediately decides Superman isn’t an interesting presence, and then goes back to coloring all over Lex’s floor. It seems to be drawing either a puppy or a chain of complex genetic sequencing, but judging by the kinds of things it’s been drawing so far, it’s fifty-fifty. Lex has been getting the impression the clone actually likes art, which is a baffling interest to find in his own progeny, but how does that quote go . . . “I am a warrior, so that my son may be a merchant, so that his son may be a poet”? 

Or something like that, anyway. 

“No, I–baby,” Superman stresses, looking bewildered as he floats down a little closer to the open balcony door. 

“. . . yes, I’ve noticed,” Lex repeats, raising his eyebrow again and taking another sip of brandy. Superman looks frazzled, bobbing up a little higher in the air again to get a better view of Experiment Thirteen under the desk. Experiment Thirteen keeps ignoring him in favor of its coloring, displaying no apparent interest in the most powerful uninvited guest in the history of illegal immigration. Lex experiences a moment of overwhelming paternal pride, which is such a bizarre and unanticipated experience that he doesn’t even know what to do with it. 

“Where’d he come from?” Superman asks with a wondering expression. Ugh.

“A cloning lab,” Lex replies dismissively, setting his near-empty glass down on the desk. It’s hardly worth lying about Experiment Thirteen’s origins at this point. He didn’t want to murder everyone in Cadmus to keep the secret. He might need them if there’s an issue with Experiment Thirteen’s genetics later, after all. “We mixed it up a couple weeks ago while you were off wasting everyone’s time being dead."

“You had my baby?” Superman says, tilting in the air and still staring at Experiment Thirteen, as if he's somehow forgotten both how much kryptonite Lex owns and how much kryptonite he keeps specifically in this office. “While I was dead. You had my baby while I was dead.” 

. . . alright then, Lex thinks again, both eyebrows raising this time. 

“I really wouldn’t put it that way, personally,” he says. “Also, I don’t recall saying it was in any way yours.”

“Baby,” Superman repeats inanely, then lands on the floor and ducks down into a crouch to peer under the desk better, his pupils still reduced to barely-there pinpricks. Lex is so mystified he doesn't even activate the security system or the weaponized red sun lamps. Experiment Thirteen frowns at Superman–Lex, again, basks in unanticipated paternal pride–and then turns its back on him and hides all its drawings from him as seriously and carefully as if they were under NDA. 

It's almost adorable, frankly. 

Not that Lex finds things adorable, of course. 

“His heartbeat's so cute,” Superman says, looking absolutely fascinated. Which is surprisingly useful of him to mention, actually, since Lex had previously been vaguely concerned that Experiment Thirteen's odd thrumming heartbeat might be a sign of a heart defect, but apparently it’s just a Kryptonian thing. A . . . “cute” Kryptonian thing, according to Superman. 

Lex is increasingly mystified by this interaction. 

“Can’t say I’ve spent much time listening to it, personally,” he lies, because he has in fact obsessed over that heartbeat’s health and stability since first finding out about its unusualness and has done a truly aggravating amount of research into heart murmurs and conditions and the like. But that’s hardly Superman’s business, now is it. 

“. . . what’s his name?” Superman asks hesitantly. Lex is possibly having an out of body experience. 

“Experiment Thirteen,” he says. Superman immediately looks offended. 

“We need to give him a name, Lex,” he says. Lex, again, has an out of body experience. 

“‘We’?” he repeats incredulously. “I made it, I get to decide what it’s called.” 

“He’s got my DNA!” Superman protests, looking indignant. Lex has absolutely no idea how to process that expression. 

“It has both our DNA, in fact, yours was too irritating to stabilize alone,” Lex informs him dubiously. More accurately it was literally impossible to stabilize alone, but he’s not mentioning that to Superman. “So it has my DNA, and I made it. And also put eight point two billion dollars into its production, as a lowball estimate. Therefore I’m the one who decides what its name is, thank you very much.” 

“Lex,” Superman says disapprovingly. “You can’t call a baby Experiment Thirteen.” 

“It’s physiologically developed enough to complain if it doesn’t like it,” Lex retorts, narrowing his eyes at him. Superman frowns at him. Lex has never had a more ridiculous conversation with the man, including all the times Superman’s tried to appeal to his nonexistent “better nature”. “Well it is.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Superman says, then ducks back down and peers at Experiment Thirteen again, gentling his voice to address it while Lex is still incredulously mouthing “ridiculous”? to himself. “Would you like a real name, kiddo?” 

Experiment Thirteen sticks its tongue out at him. 

Lex is finding parenthood to be a very rewarding experience, actually. 

[lavender-butterfly-cookie]

I would love to see a second part of Forgotten Friends

One where the beast eventually realized that they blew stuff out of proportion and, because of that, their friend was basically forced to betray them, but they have no one to blame but themselves

And by the time they realized and are out of their prison

Reader cookie can varely remember them, they do remember they used to be friends, but all their evil deed have replaces most happy memories and Reader has a hard time being able to trust or even be near them

Patience is a strong thing, but time is more

The SoulJam of Patience has follow their tittle, now it's Their turn to use it

I like your style dear butterfly.

Forsaken, Forgotten, Un-Forgiven

previous part

Where does one even begin to express how much patience you've lost? How does one even begin to accept your friends have become nothing more but shells of their former selves? How does one learn to forgive them for forcing you to betray them? As hard as it is to believe, it starts with an apology.

After sealing your friends away all those years ago, it took you immense amounts of patience before you could face the world again. It took you so much patience to adjust and make new friends. So much patience to finally feel free about revealing who you really are. Patience to accept that they were gone and they weren't coming back. It took a long time, but you endured it. And it was worth it.

But it wasn't.

You found yourself face to face with five shards of tinted glass, all representing a shard from what was broken long ago. You barely remembered any of them, but that doesn't mean you forgot them and their evil deeds completely

The blue shard, who had once been your source of knowledge and guidance, now full of cracks that mimicked the web of deceit it was entangled in. You remember how the threads of that web were used to puppet and control the lives of the innocent, forcing them to fight for his own twisted little show.

The white shard, who had one been the holder of the virtue known as volition, now flavorless and apathetic soul devoid of any meaning. You remember how easily she turned everything to flour with just a simple motion of her hand. And you knew she did it because she saw little to no value in living a life with the inevitable end known as death

The red shard, who was once the herald of change in itself, now a destructive and merciless monster who sees no point in creation when it's bout to wither away eventually. You remember how he had destroyed countless homes and lives, all because he was bored.

The pink shard, who was once the most loving and joyful person you had ever met, now a lazy sloth who didn't even bother doing anything anymore. You remember vividly how she wiped away so many cookies just because they woke her up from her nap.

Then there was the Purple shard, once a noble knight of solitude, now a dark knight of silence. You remember all to well how had mercilessly crumbled several cookies in a single strike. How he's never uttered a word since he became corrupted.

These shards of glass are none other than your fallen friends, freed from but under different circumstances. They weren't causing havoc, they weren't attacking- heck, they weren't even angry at you after you lead them into a trap. What baffled you more was how the ancients were present but stood to the side. It took some time before the realization hit you.

"They want to talk."

You heard a voice say. It sounded like you, but much more mature. You felt your heart drop. They wish to talk? Couldn't they have thought about that years- no, CENTURIES ago?! But you're not about to argue with the light of patience when you clearly have better things to focus on.

The first thing you noticed about your fallen friends is their demeanor. They're not angry... they actually look guilty and nervous. Next was their souljams... which they didn't have for some reason. The ancients probably have it, which is good. They can't cause much damage. Shadow milk cookie stepped forward and you were ready for anything....

"Y/N cookie..."

Anything at all.

"We're sorry..."

Except that. Your eyes widened and you froze solid, the words unable to register in your head. They were apologizing?... But- no that can't be right... this is a trick... It's a trick and you won't fall for it again... You look at the ancients. They aren't intervening or protesting against this false apology.

...

They can't seriously believe this, right? They're not falling for this, RIGHT?! You step back a bit and shake your head slightly. This was a trick. Why do they want to redeem themselves NOW? Had they not realized the gravity of what they did before sooner? This had to be some kind of lie. And you weren't gonna fall for it. You made that very clear to them before walking.

It was only later on where pure vanilla cookie explained that they were attempting a redemption arc to fix the bond between you. The ancients really did believe them... Why did they believe them?! They had been nothing but pure evil as far as you can remember. Their evil deeds outweighed whatever happy memories you had with them... almost as though you didn't have happy memories.

The beasts tried again and again to at least get you to cast a glance at them but it was fruitless. You walked away from the library when Shadow milk cookie tried talking to you. You completely ignored Eternal sugar cookie trying to enter your room and talk to you. You turned your back on Burning spice cookie when he attempted reaching out for you. You refused to acknowledge Mystic flour cookies attempt of interaction with you. And the silence between You and Silent salt cookie had grown into a deadly kind of quiet, as if none of you had even been together.

They just didn't get it, did they? They betrayed your trust once, what if they do it again? You had to be BEYOND patient with yourself in order to recover and yet they've returned? No, they shouldn't have. They had no idea how many sleepless nights you endured to finally accept they're absence. How much you had to learn to adjust and be patient with yourself to be able to move on. And all that hard work, all that patience, it was gonna crumble because of them.

No, you can't let that happen. You can't just forgive them just like that. Not after everything they've done, to innocent cookies, everything they've done to you. If they really wanted your forgiveness, they'd have to be as patient with you as you were with them when they weren't corrupted. They have to earn your forgiveness, and that was going to take a long time.

You were patient with them, now they must be patient with you. How long they'd have to be patient was unknown, and how long they'd actually remain patient was just as mysterious.

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 [𝟏]

pairing. albedo x reader, xiao x reader, thoma x reader

word count. 1.9k

genre/warnings. prompt-based drabbles, royal!au, college!au, just some nice romance hehe

𝟏. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝟏𝐚𝐦

“Your Highness, it’s rare to see you awake at this hour.”

Albedo bows hurriedly when you swing the heavy wooden door open, and you wave a dismissive hand; you’d told him to stop bowing to you years ago, and he still couldn’t cut the habit. Archons know it’ll be longer before he can stop calling you by a royal title.

“I had some trouble sleeping. I hope you don’t mind if I accompany you for a bit, Albedo.”

He shakes his head, gesturing to the spread of notebooks, test tubes, and various gadgets on the table, as if any of it would mean something to you. “I was just doing a bit of light experimentation. Nothing dangerous, so you’re welcome to stay.”

You pull up a stool at his side, one that he’d placed there specifically for your presence—it’s rare that anyone else visits him down here, after all. Since you were a child, you’d always had a fascination with this room, the royal lab, and it happened to be the place Albedo usually inhabited as the former royal alchemist’s pupil. You’d become fast friends.

The silence is comfortable for a few minutes. Albedo tinkers with a few things, takes some notes, and you simply watch. Crickets chirp outside the darkened windows. It’s how it’s always been.

Your eyes fall on a small burn mark on the wall that’s clumsily covered in paint. “Do you remember when we made that?” you ask, pointing out the blemish. Albedo looks up in surprise; you’re usually not one to converse when you keep him company. “I thought mixing a few chemicals couldn’t go too wrong. That was quite a mess to clean up.”

It was a common pattern when you were younger—you would make the mess, and Albedo would fix it. He was always smarter and a bit more mature than you, and as you grew up together, it remained that way.

“You were quite the troublemaker,” he says, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips, “I was shocked that someone so hot-headed could ever hope to lead the kingdom.”

“What do you think of me, Albedo?”

It’s so abrupt that the question catches him off guard, hand slipping and drawing an ugly line through his notes. He struggles to control his breath. What does he think of you? It’s surely not his place to tell the truth in that regard; he’s lucky your parents had even allowed the two of you to be friends, much less what he actually wants. He gulps down the lump in his throat, trying to appear unfazed.

“If you’re asking me as a royal, then I would say that it’s been an honor to serve as an alchemist under your name. I look forward to doing more work to advance this kingdom, and I know you have a bright future as our ruler.”

A completely textbook answer.

He looks away too fast to be natural, hands already busying themselves with something else to prevent himself from saying too much. It seems you’ve hit a nerve, but that was also your intention all along.

Rising from your seat, you approach his side hesitantly, sliding your fingers over the pile of notebooks on the table—endless knowledge, most of which you likely wouldn’t understand. Albedo has always been a culmination of things you don’t understand, but you want to.

The truth is, you can’t imagine yourself loving anyone except him.

“And if I wasn’t asking as a royal?” He flinches, clearly not expecting you to continue this line of questioning. “If I asked you as me and me alone, how would you answer?”

Albedo turns to you, then, eyes dimming in the low light of the lab. He looks vulnerable, though he fights to keep his expression even. His voice is barely audible, a breathless whisper for your ears alone.

“If you were asking me as you and you alone,” he repeats, inhaling deeply for courage, “I’d say I’ve learned that sometimes, the discovery only leads to more questions.”

His gaze flickers down to your lips for a moment, then shoots back up to your eyes. The room suddenly feels much warmer than before. “And there are many more things I’d like to find out about you, if you’d allow me.”

𝟐. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡

You don’t know how you ended up this way. Well, you do, but you aren’t sure why it ended up this way.

College parties, as far as you’re aware, are supposed to be red solo cups and loud music, waking up the next day with hangovers and 8am classes. They’d been right about the red solo cups, but having one in Xiangling’s hands meant trouble.

“Let’s play Seven Minutes in Heaven,” she had slurred, a lazy smile on her lips as she stumbled around the room. You groaned as you caught her by the arm, just before she crashed into the vase in the corner.

“Xiangling, we’re in college, not high school. And I don’t think you’re in any condition to be doing anything except sleeping.”

Of course, there was no saying no to Xiangling about anything, which is how you ended up stuffed in a closet with Xiao.

It’s painfully awkward at first, dead silence with your limbs tangled together in the small space. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, out of fear of saying something stupid.

The truth is, you’ve had a crush on Xiao for a very long time now. It had started when he tutored you in your freshman year chemistry class, and since you had a mutual friend group, you began to see him a lot more often. He was kinder than he let on, albeit a bit rough around the edges, but you liked that about him—at least, you thought you did.

Sometime a few months ago, something had changed. He stopped entertaining your conversations, stopped answering your texts, just stopped. You’d been struggling to move on since then, since it was painfully obvious that your feelings were not returned.

“Are you drunk?” you ask shyly, just trying to fill the silence. He chuckles humorlessly.

“Not even a little. I wish I was, maybe I could get the image of Zhongli dancing out of my head.”

You laugh in response, slowly tapering off when he says nothing. It makes you feel a bit guilty that he got stuck in here with you.

“Xiao, listen, I’m sorry that it was my name you picked,” you say, leaning forward a bit, “I just—”

“Just don’t move,” he hisses through his teeth, jaw grinding with impatience. You frown in the darkness.

“Listen, if you didn’t want to do this, you didn’t have to play the stupid game. I think we’re all old enough that we can speak for ourselves—”

“That’s not it.”

“Wow, it’d be really cool if you’d let me finish my sente—”

“I just didn’t want you doing this with anyone else. I think I’d rather die than see someone like Childe disappear into this stupid closet with you.”

“I just think it’s a little ru—wait, what?”

Xiao sighs, seemingly a bit frustrated with himself. He understands that you’re unhappy with him, but he can’t find the words to say. Coming to terms with his feelings for you had been difficult, and since then, he’s been avoiding admitting to them. After all, what could someone like you see in someone like him?

“I’m sorry,” he says to start. That’s the one thing he’s sure about. “I know I’ve been rude lately. That’s my fault.”

“Well, yeah,” you grumble, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes, but continues anyway.

“I know everything I’ve done says otherwise, but…I like you. I have for a while, maybe since I met you.” He grits his teeth, feeling totally uncomfortable and out of his element. Some things are necessary though, he reasons, and you’re definitely worth it. “So I’m sorry for being an ass. Please don’t hate me. If you hate me, then just tell me, because then I’ll—”

The sound of Xiangling’s voice echoes from outside. “Ten seconds left, lovebirds!”

Xiao sighs. He’s out of time.

There’s a lot of things he could say, should say, but he settles for this: 

“If you hate me, then just tell me,” he repeats, searching for your eyes in the darkness. He finds them for a moment, wide and soft. “Because then I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you.”

The door swings open.

𝟑. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲

Thoma takes a deep breath as he waits on the busy street, the townspeople chattering in excitement about the upcoming festival. The Commission had done endless work to organize this, he knows, and that should be an object of his anxiety as well, but all he can think about is you.

Being a fixer, he’s never been a stranger to social interaction. He probably speaks to hundreds of people, and it’s all in a day’s work. Of course, hundreds of people don’t make his heart race and palms sweat whenever he sees them, that’s a feature unique only to you.

Even asking you to accompany him to the festival had been quite an ordeal. Ayaka commented that she had never seen him so shaken in her life, and she was probably right; he’d rehearsed the conversation by himself for days. You’d accepted without complaint, kind as you are, but now comes the real issue: actually going to the festival with you.

Still, you look so excited when you wave to him from the end of the street that he can’t help but smile as well. His nervousness dissipates as soon as you’re right in front of him—you’re too bright to focus on anything else.

“Where to first? I hope you have a good tour for me,” you say teasingly, taking him by the arm. He chuckles.

“Don’t worry, I know all the best places.”

The two of you enjoy the festival together. A few people stop Thoma for a short conversation, a knowing twinkle in their eyes when they see you by his side. It’s no secret that he’s quite fond of you, though you don’t seem to notice. He’s okay with that for now; it’d been hard enough to ask you here, much less to ask you to be his.

As you pass the merchant booths, a bracelet of Sango Pearls catches your eye, and Thoma doesn’t hesitate to purchase it for you. You thank him endlessly, sliding it over your wrist, but his face morphs into confusion when you ask the merchant for another one. He knows fashion quite well, and he’s aware that stacking bracelets is indeed a thing, but wouldn’t it do you better to stack different—

His breath hitches when you grasp his hand, soft skin sliding against his, the newly purchased bracelet settling against his wrist.

Oh.

“Beautiful,” you remark, smiling softly, pearls reflecting in your eyes. His heart jumps, but he masks it with a chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

“We should go,” he says, trying to draw attention away from the blush on his cheeks. “I know a good spot to watch the fireworks show.”

It’s the perfect end to the night. Naganohara Fireworks never fails to impress; Thoma makes a mental note to thank Yoimiya later. You seem to enjoy it too, lips parted slightly in awe, hands clutched tightly to your chest. The fireworks are as stunning as they are loud; pops and crackles of light boom across the night sky, a wonder for your eyes to witness.

Thoma thinks the Shogun might be right about eternity; he wishes this moment would never end.

“You’re beautiful, too,” he whispers.

[affectionatecorpse]

Okay so I see some people are debating what the monster from Still Wakes the Deep is. I'm inspired by the support from my Death Angel post, so I'm gonna try giving an analysis. Now science is not my strong suit, I'm much better at zoology, but here we go.

Of course, spoilers ahead!

So, the entity comes to light in act one. While Caz is being yelled at by his power drunk boss, Rennick, a worker going by the name Gibbo calls up to say there's an issue with the drill, something highlighted earlier by another worker. Rennick orders the drilling anyway, and thus begins the nightmare, as the drill seems to unearth and awaken a destructive parasite out for revenge. But I don't think that's as deep as it goes, pun intended.

Let's say, the creature is a parasite. A form of near sentient bacteria, though take that description with a grain of salt, I'm no scientist. Parasites simply cannot live on their own. That's an objective fact. They need a host. They exist within another for survival and breeding purposes, and multiply and spread through the body of another.

Parasites, bacteria and even fungi can live underground for years, and have been discovered to do so. Ancient lifeforms have been discovered just under the surface of earth, let alone deep underneath the ground and in the bottom of our oceans, one of the most complex and diverse biomes that our current science has barely scratched the surface of. It's highly likely this creature is a self replicating bacteria or parasite that was unearthed by the drill, and took up new hosts to survive in this change of environment.

But not every host worked. You can see half transformed, mutilated bodies everywhere, and some that haven't even changed at all. These bodies could not support the parasite and shortly died.

However, a few select hosts DID end up surviving; Gibbo, Muir, Rennick, Addair and Trots. It's unclear what sets these people apart from the others, and I don't know enough about this topic to claim an answer. But I certainly do think these folks died soon into the transformation, and are not fully conscious in the body. They frequently repeat terms and phrases, and never say anything you might expect from an entity possessing them, implying it's borrowing words and sentences that have been said by the host before, in other circumstances.

The entity plays with Caz's memories and definitely the others' too, though not all of them good. It wouldn't be a surprise to realise that's where it's getting information about it's host, as it reads the memories inside the brain to learn faces, names, and even the host's personality. Which makes me wonder, does it even realise what it looks like? Does the creature itself actually realise it's a parasite? Or does it completely and fully believe it is the person it's connected itself to? It almost downloads their personality and tries to pretend like everything is completely normal.

Let's talk about arguably the best monster (in my opinion), Muir. Muir moves about the area he frequently worked as what I assume was an engineer. He roams the familiar ground, almost unsure of why he's by himself. He often calls out to his coworkers, wondering out loud why they're treating him like he's different. Sure, this could be the real Muir's consciousness slipping in and out of the seams, but it's highly unlikely he would still be alive. Much like the zombie fungus, as it's often called, the host is not alive when the fungus is controlling it, and is merely a puppet. If the spiders it was corrupting could talk, I daresay, they'd be acting like them. Taking their place in the world, even if they don't realise it.

But every animal needs to eat. And eventually, that body is going to run out of tasty, tasty neurons. Like I said earlier, a parasite needs to spread. It'll breed, then spread to another to keep it's species alive. By infiltrating a 'pack' of animals, it will take anything to spread to the others. Which is exactly what the parasite does whenever it sees another human. Either that, or it will consume them, theoretically to feed the host so it stays alive, while keeping those tasty, tasty neurons for itself. You can almost see this process with Innes, as the elevator ascends without him, and you just faintly see Muir doing something in the distance. Likely consuming him for nutrients, as he was not connected to the parasite yet.

Next, there's Addair.

Addair, much like Muir, patrols familiar ground. Even though Addair himself wasn't even in that area when the drill struck. Now Muir was actively in that familiar space in the beginning, and it's safe to assume that's his place of transformation. But Addair was eating in the cafeteria when the incident happened, not deep down in the engine. Did he go down when the impact happened, while Caz was unconscious? Maybe. But the lights were fine then, and the engine wasn't the problem, so he didn't need a reason to. Plus, he doesn't seem like the type to be work dedicated, more inconvenience dedicated. Considering what I said about the parasite (badly) taking their place in society, did it go to his place of work after detecting that as his 'natural environment', per se?

Plus, unlike Muir, who greets the situation with quotes of confusion, fear and anxiety, Addair is instantly aggressive. Even an asshole like Addair is likely to panic if conscious in this situation, so the nervousness was Gibbo and Muir exclusive. But Addair and Rennick become immediately angry upon seeing Caz, as they actively disliked him in life, and so the parasite processes him as a foe to it's host. I thought that was neat.

Now another take I have admittedly heard from several other people, but I thought was worth mentioning. The monsters are incredibly similar to sea creatures. Which means this underwater bacteria was possibly leaking out already, and transforming our animals, not enough to completely corrupt them, but enough to twist their bodies. Think of the appearances of deep, deep sea creatures, such as the anglerfish. Isn't it possible this parasite was responsible for their uncanny appearance, in this universe? Muir especially looks like a spider crab, or perhaps even a bigfin squid.

Which again, is a deep sea creature. Rennick also reminds me of a blobfish once removed from the pressure of the deep sea. Addair seems very jellyfish-like, but may be something else very... tick-like. And even Trots gives me major merfolk vibes, with how untouched his torso is in comparison to his lower half.

This parasite could have been feeding off the neurons and breeding through our very ecosystem as the ground slowly gave away above it. The drill unearthing the source likely gave it a burst of control as so much energy was released at once, hence why it was so fast to literally spiral out of control.

But Scotland, by all means, is not the only place in the world connected to the ocean. Sure, they destroyed this batch, but other forms of this parasite live on elsewhere on earth. And the explosion may not have even destroyed it. It definitely would've destroyed the host bodies, yes, but certain bacterias can survive impressive damage, even heat hot enough to burn off human flesh. We'd best hope this is not one of those bacterias.

I didn't really get as far with this observation as I did with other horror studies, but I had fun nonetheless! Like I said, I'm really better with zoology (hence the sudden enthusiasm when I started on sea creatures), but I loved Still Wakes the Deep SO much that I just wanted to write down my thoughts. If you have any other theories, feel free to add them!

Also if I used your pictures/gifs and you would like me to add credit, I am so so sorry, I will absolutely add that as soon as you say so, I just got most of these off Google and couldn't find most the original sources. So yeah if you'd like me to add your name and mention, or you want me to remove it in general, feel free to just say and I'll add it, I don't bite I promise. Well... I won't bite YOU.

Sorry sorry, had to make a zombie reference--

[christinesficrecs]

do you have any fics where stiles and derek are hiding to have sex? specifically hiding from the sheriff or maybe scott lol

Well, there are quite a few secret relationship ones. And these ones, that kinda jumped out at me. 😉

I Just Wanna Be With You Every Day by Brego_Mellon_Nin | 33.9K

When his best friend’s son barrels into the kitchen only dressed in a pair of skintight jeans, lean but defined torso on display, Derek knows he’s truly and utterly fucked. Not only is the kid barely eighteen, but he also happens to be the Sheriff’s only son.

Derek makes a vow to himself that he will not seek Stiles out and he’ll get this thing under control.

I’m at one, and I’ve been quiet for too long by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 11.4K | Explicit

The one where the pack insists Derek can’t date anybody for a year but he ends up finding romance much closer to home anyway.

With Just the Door Ajar by mirrorkill | 61.6K

So there’s a bunch of reasons why Stiles has been away from Beacon Hills: most noticeably being the time he accused his English teacher Jennifer Blake of being the evil Darach who spent two years sacrificing twelve of Beacon Hill’s best.

But Stiles can’t stay away forever from the town that killed both his parents. When he gets a job offer he can’t refuse, it’s time for him to grow up and apologize for his mistakes. Which just lands him an invitation to Beacon Hills’ wedding of the century. Jennifer’s wedding. To the werewolf Stiles had a thing with in senior year. To the werewolf Stiles might not exactly be 100% over.

Still, he’s a grown up now and he can handle this thing without causing any trouble. Having sex with the groom repeatedly doesn’t count as trouble… does it?

Hallmark should really make cards for this shit by  Jessicatty | 2.8K

When the pack finds a unicorn in the woods they call Stiles to come help since he should be the only virgin left in the pack. Should being the key word here.

Over the Threshold by  alisvolatpropiis | 5.8K

This is the last time,” Stiles declares, just before he attacks Derek’s mouth with his, the kiss fevered and desperate, his long fingers jabbing roughly into Derek’s abs as he tangles them in his shirt. He pulls him close and walks them away from the front door, and in his hurried clumsiness, Stiles’ nose smashes Derek’s glasses into his face, hard enough that they smudge against his eyelids. It should be annoying, but like everything else about Stiles that should be infuriating, Derek can only find it hopelessly endearing.

That’s the thing about love, he supposes, even a love he won’t fully admit to himself, let alone to Stiles.

You Look Like Bad News (i gotta have you) by  standinginanicedress | 38.9K |

Option A : violently tell Derek that they are under no circumstances ever to hook up again because it was stupid and dumb.

Option B : tell Scott the truth, stand back and watch as Scott kills Derek with his bare hands so Stiles doesn’t even have to face the music. Not an option at all, actually. Expunge this from the record.

The real Option B : calmly explain to Derek that the situation is too fucked up and hey, maybe if Derek and Scott ever shake hands and make up, he and Stiles can hook up again because, man…it was great.

Option C : forget everything, charge headfirst into danger like fuckin’ Bravehart and have sex with Derek all over again.

Option D : bury himself alive and wait for the worms to eat him.

Paper Airplanes by  RemainNameless | 23.5K

The road to unfortunate, accidental, and possibly career-destroying relationships is littered with good intentions, snark, bad timing, and not a few paper airplanes.

[wontshutup]

"Not even if they were the last people on earth"

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

HI! It has been a fairly long time since I've written something, anything, I was stuck in a years long writers block but I've finally decided to write a small Megumi x reader one shot.

Enemies to lovers kind of situation, very cliché hahaha.

Hope you enjoy

Warnings: none I guess, probably a swear word or two, I don't really know. Reference to violence, not very explicit.

Word count: 1356

English isn't my first language.

“Aaand here we go again” you said pouting mockingly towards your partner as he gave you an irritated look. 

“Shut up” he gave you a side eye while pressing an ice pack to his head.

“You know, you could’ve avoided that if you actually listened to me instead of going all with this treasure I summon at the slightest inconvenience” you then flinched in pain as a sharp pang in your rib cage made you fold. 

“Yeah right, because you had the situation all under control there” he rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth at the strong headache he had, unable to pin point if it was due to his injuries or due to your nagging. 

In the front seat your teacher, Gojo Satoru, listened amused at your arguing. He knew the two of you wouldn’t get along even if you were the last people on earth, aside from that you were his strongest and most experienced students, knowing your dynamics as classmates was very different from your dynamic when on missions, your usual banter turning into calculated and effective analysis and strategies with a high success rate, which is why he had been deep in thought all the ride back to Jujutsu Tech as to how was it that your mission had been more challenging than predicted, that was until one of you started to point out the flaws of the other throughout the mission.

“Now now, stop it you two! You need to save your energy to heal!” he said more mockingly than caringly. “Tell me, what happened?”

As much as you felt the need to prove your posture right about Megumi’s reckless actions you acquired a more serious posture and gave your outlook on the matter “turns out the intel was actually not precise, that curse was at least a grade 1 and the intel said it was barely a grade 3” you started

“There also wasn’t any sign of evolution in the course of the mission which means this had been it’s grade since the beginning, so either the intel was wrong..”Megumi continued

“ Or planted” finished Gojo, nailing exactly the point the two of you were getting to.

“Good thing you managed to get out of there alive” he continued, his tone being more serious 

“Barely” you added, earning a glare from Megumi as he knew you intended to put the blame on him.

“Yeah, barely” Gojo took your remark as a point to take on account “you listen to me, as far as we know by now, if the information was planted and sent from the higher ups that means you by now have a target on your back. Not really surprising considering you both have remarkable techniques and names, making you both notably dangerous, not to add, you’re under my tutoring and well, we know they’re not very fond of me either. Whoever did this knew how things would go and what they wanted” he adjusted the rearview mirror for you to be able to look eye to eye “you can’t tell anyone about this ok?, as long as we don’t have the identity of whoever did this, better to lay low and don’t let anyone know that we know, understood?” 

You and Megumi nodded, a deep silence settled between the three of you as you arrived at Jujutsu tech and the infirmary. 

Shoko tended to your wounds and walked out the place to talk to Gojo, knowing she would be a trustworthy person, as you tried to listen in what they were saying you could listen to Megumi groan in annoyance

“So nosy” he referred to you as he rolled his eyes, getting a similar reaction

“At least I care enough to not get killed in the future, not that you know anything about valuing your own life” you poked at how he always seemed so eager to give his all without caring for his sake when a mission got harder than expected.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about” His tone had raised now, anger clear in his voice “not that you know anything about sacrificing yourself for anyone in a mission, you selfish coward” he was harsh with his words, knowing you had struck a chord he attacked back.

You widen your eyes at his remark, stepping closer to him “sorry for wanting to get out alive! What good would my death bring to anyone anyway huh?” you were now gritting your teeth together “what good is a noble sacrifice if that is your last noble act?”

His eyes didn’t falter from you, you were right in your words, he knew you had won this argument, but now he wouldn’t dare to back off, towering more at your stance, inching his face near yours 

“Idiot” was the one thing he could mutter as he knew you had the upper hand, your expression turning smug at noticing this.

“What is it Fushiguro? No righteous argument to shoot back?” you raised your eyebrows at him, being able to see each of his reactions due to your proximity. 

Not ever had you been so close to each other, except when sparring sessions came around, also ending up having the upper hand over him most of the time. “And once again you’ve lost”

“You” he hissed as he clenched his fist, now getting closer, both of your breaths mixing with each other, making you slightly blush at the feeling, a tingling sensation. It seemed that you were noticing for the first time how beautiful his eyes were.

He too was feeling a certain anxious feeling rise within him, a feeling he had felt multiple times when he had you press on top of him while after defeating him in hand to hand combat. His eyes traveled to your face noticing how your cheeks were a soft pink hue. He still held his body tense but now more due to the proximity, his anger now forgotten. 

At noticing how the atmosphere had changed you pulled back, much to his dismay, both your faces heated up as you turned your back to him.

“We should leave you know” you didn’t look back at him, trying to calm down this weird feeling you had experienced. Out of anyone on campus Megumi Fushiguro was the last person you wanted to feel that way towards, the thought alone had made you squirm in distaste at times but now…you weren’t so sure.

“Y-yeah, I guess we should” Megumi was snapped from the daze he was, a lot of different thoughts had run through his mind. No, he refused to give in to acknowledging what just happened. He didn’t like you, he couldn’t like you. You and him had done nothing but jab at each other since the day you met, there was no way he would just forget about all that due to some closeness with you, then again, it wasn’t the first time he felt that but honestly he had just attributed it to “teenage rushes”.

“Happy to see you two managed not to kill each other while we were gone!” said Gojo in his usual cheery tone, his six eyes telling him what had really been going on but refused to put you in that embarrassing spot, on the other hand, he would talk about that to Megumi later, he couldn’t wait to see his annoyed reaction.

“Ha- ha real funny sensei” you said, still cooling down from what had happened.

Megumi rolled his eyes at them.

“Anyway, the both of you get some rest. Shoko and I will get on today’s little incident, we will keep you updated as soon as we can get some information” he kept going

“In the meantime rest and do as your teacher instructs you” completed Shoko, giving you both a sympathetic smile

“Understood” you said as Megumi just nodded and left for your rooms unaware of the way Shoko and Gojo shared a complicit smile.

“Yeah right, not even if they were the last people on earth, don’t make me laugh” Gojo scoffed earning a laugh from Shoko.

A situation neither you or Megumi found funny.

[gffa]

Hi Lumi. This year I’ve watched The Clone Wars, Rebels, Mandalorian, Book of Boba Fett, and Tales of the Jedi and I’m watching Ahsoka as episodes are released. But I feel like I’m missing some context as to why people are wary of Filoni. What things should I know so I’m caught up, so to speak, in the fandom discussions?

Hi! That's a lot of Star Wars to watch in a year, I hope you're having fun with it all! And I will gently remind everyone that Filoni is not the be-all-end-all of Star Wars creators--Henry Gilroy was there for TCW and Rebels, too. George Lucas was holding writers' meetings years after the show started (at least into 2010!). The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett are far more Jon Favreau's shows. The Bad Batch is Brad Rau and Jennifer Corbett. Resistance was developed by him, but was run by other producers. It's just that Filoni tends to get the most camera time and has become the face of Star Wars creators. That said, the issue with Filoni is kind of two-pronged, though, they overlap. 1. He's done a lot of interviews where he's said a lot of anti-Jedi things that have drifted from reasonable critiques in the beginning to eventually "Qui-Gon Jinn was the only true Jedi. [blatantly wrong citations]" This has put a lot of people off him as a creator, because we love the Jedi Order that Lucas talks about and established, which Filoni has actively contradicted over the years, despite being promoted as someone who follows Lucas' themes. And it's hard not to be aware of his interviews when watching his shows and it's hard to enjoy shows that do your faves dirty, you know? 2. His writing has become weaker over the years for a lot of us--Rebels is a show most of us love and found to be incredible. Many of us really love The Clone Wars, which he was heavily involved in/was probably the central voice after Lucas started phasing out. But his biggest story told over the course of those series--basically, the story of Mandalore's history and fall to the Empire--has been extremely thin for a lot of us. And a lot of us get frustrated at his inability to be objective when it comes to Ahsoka's character, that we love her as a character very much, but it hasn't felt like Filoni really knows what to do with her character arc and yet almost everything he writes is centered around her. His final season of The Clone Wars? Gave her the walkabout arc and the Siege of Mandalore arc, both of which often did not hold up well under scrutiny. His episode of The Book of Boba Fett? I actually really loved it, but it absolutely just stopped the pacing of that show to focus a lot on her. More on Luke, but he couldn't resist putting her in there, either. Tales of the Jedi was half devoted to Ahsoka and so much of it wasn't even about her time as a Jedi! We're frustrated because he doesn't set things up well anymore--Morgan Elsbeth is a Nightsister?? Why wasn't that established in The Mandalorian instead of pulling out randomly in Ahsoka? Why does Sabine Wren suddenly so badly want Jedi training, when they barely even had a conversation in Rebels?? There's a lot of good that Filoni has given to Star Wars, I think he genuinely cares about the Force and what it means--he's very consistent on how it's not easy and how it takes discipline and control, that he has been consistent on how anger and fear are paths to the dark side, even his episode of TBOBF had Ahsoka saying, yeah, attachment is a path to the dark side, because the Jedi mean "attachment" in a more Buddhist-aligned way. A lot of his writing for the character of Ahsoka is actually pretty good, like I've been enjoying her being a prickly, traumatized hot mess in the show! It's just that I kind of hate all the interviews he gives and I think he's a lot less objective than a lot of fans and media coverage that would hold him up as a perfect writer/interviewee about all things Star Wars, and it all comes together to make him kind of a hot-button topic.

So, a lot of people LOVE Filoni's work, a lot of people are frustrated by it, a lot of people are casually fine about it, a lot of people HATE Filoni's work and it can be a fun mix of any of the above or even other issues that come up. (And that's all fine! I have my views on Filoni's work, but it's fine if others hate it more than I do or love it more than I do, there's room for us all, all of it is valid.)

But I think if you want to understand some of the roots of this corner of fandom's frustration, two (admittedly long as heck) homework assignment reads would be:

- My own rebuttal to Dave's behind the scenes Mandalorian Gallery talk (this is jokingly referred to as "Davegate" because I refused to take it too seriously) - @david-talks-sw's collection of comparisons between Lucas' commentary on the Jedi and Filoni's commentary on the Jedi

This response itself is more focused on laying out the problems a lot of people have with Filoni's writing, but also honestly I still have my giant collection of Jedi source material citations that quotes his commentary, I still bring up Filoni's quotes in current meta a lot, I still talk positively about the things I enjoy from his shows, so overall there's equal amounts of both praise and criticism here. So, as short as I can make it (which isn't very, shut up, I know! XD), that's basically what people mean when they say they're wary of Filoni.

[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Two

Fool's Fare: Chapter Two

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Trigger Warnings: Crossdressing, Cranky pirates, Jake Seresin. I think that's it?

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I feel like this is NOT my best work, but I'm not sure if that's because I'm a perfectionist or if it's because it's actually bad. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated. 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

You bolted upright in your bed, sheets drenched with sweat as you fought to regain control of your breathing. Your heart hammered away in your ears as the sound of rushing water faded into your memory. You glanced out the window to see the soft pink of the rising sun as it sat just below the horizon. Good, you still had time. You scrambled out of bed, feet carrying you quickly into the front room. Bradley had his foot propped up on the table to lace his boot, a nasty habit your mother had scolded him for countless times when she was still alive.

He glanced up at you with a frown, noticing your disheveled appearance. “Are you alright?”

“You can’t go,” you said flatly, staring at him. Bradley let out a long sigh as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Guppy,” he started, “we’ve talked about this.”

“No, you’ve talked about this. You decided that I wasn’t important enough to be included in the conversation.”

“That isn’t fair,” he grumbled. “I'm doing this for us and our future.”

“You’re doing it because you can’t stand the thought of staying here another minute,” you snapped at him, causing him to shrink back into himself with a grimace. “Bradley, it will kill me to not know whether you’re safe or not.”

“I already told you-”

“Yes, I know what you said,” you groaned, running a hand through your hair. “But, I will spend every waking minute wondering whether or not you’ve been captured or killed. I will be left here to wait for you on that hill like Mother did.”

Bradley said nothing as he stared at you. His lips pressed into a thin line as he walked past you and down the hall to his room. You heard him moving around, opening and closing drawers before he came walking back towards you.

“Here,” he said, shoving the clothes into your open arms. You stared bewilderingly down at them before looking back up at him. He gestured for you to move down the hall. “Go change.”

“What?”

“Go change,” he said again, a bit more bite to his tone. You slowly moved past him and down to your room. You stripped your nightdress off and quickly began to pull on the shirt and pants he had shoved at you. You didn’t even know he still had these things. They were a little big on you, but they would do. You had just finished lacing your boots up when a knock came at the door.

“I’m decent,” you called, and Bradley swung the door open. He stared down at you, nodding with approval at how his clothes fit you. He tossed you a rucksack that you barely caught.

“Pack only what you need.”

“Bradley, what-”

“C’mon, Guppy,” he ordered, rushing around your room to pack what he thought you might need. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“I don’t understand,” you frowned. Bradley turned to you with an incredulous expression.

“The only way you’re going to let me go,” he said like he was speaking to a child, “is if you come with me. So, you’re coming with me.”

“Women aren’t allowed on ships, Rooster.”

“Which is why you’re dressed in my hand-me-downs right now,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m getting you on that ship as a cabin boy if nothing else. Do you have everything?”

He rushed out of your room with you in tow. “Yes, I think so,” you muttered.

“Good,” he said. “I’ve already left a note for Tom. Now let’s get goin’.”

Bradley opened the front door and walked out without looking back. You moved to join him, but hesitated, resting a hand on the door jamb. You turned to take one last look at your home. It was dark, the morning light not having reached the windows yet, and it felt empty as you stood there.

“Guppy?”

You turned to look at Bradley who had stopped a few feet ahead of you. The two of you stared at one another for a moment before he reached his hand out to you. You took it, closing the door to the little cottage as you allowed him to pull you forward.

The docks were already bustling as Bradley pushed his way through the throng of fishermen, you not far behind him. He carried himself confidently, standing a couple of inches above everyone else, and waving to the familiar faces around him. You, however, did your best to hide your face with the jacket and hat Bradley had handed you. It would do you no good now to get caught trying to sneak onto a pirate ship.

“You’re late.”

You glanced up to see Captain Seresin leaning against a stack of crates, a frown pulling on his lips. A handsome, dark-skinned man watched Bradley stoically.

“Yes,” Bradley said, clearing his throat. “Sorry about that.”

“You’ll do well to remember to be on time from now on,” Jake sniffed, green eyes glancing down to where you hid behind Bradley. “Who’s this?”

“This is my younger brother,” Bradley started, moving to rest a hand on your shoulder and pull you forward for the captain to see. Jake stared at you, face unreadable as he looked you over. You stood up a little straighter, puffing your chest out. Bradley had you bind it before you left to help conceal it beneath the jacket.

“What’s your name?” he asked finally. You balked, eyes darting nervously to Bradley. How had the two of you not thought up a name? It was a careless mistake, and the longer you took to answer, the more you began to panic.

“Pete,” Bradley rushed out. Your eyes widened. “Pete Mitchell.”

“Pete Mitchell?” The dark-skinned man blinked in surprise as Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “As in the sailor who went by the name of Maverick?”

“He was my father,” you said quietly, head hanging. How did these men know your father? It didn’t make sense that these men would know him.

“You hear that, Javy?” Jake laughed. “Didn’t know the great Maverick had a kid.”

“Neither did I,” the dark-skinned man, Javy, frowned. His eyes now held a look of intrigue as they studied you. You shifted, trying to hide yourself behind Bradley as the man continued to stare down at you.

“Could be good to have him on the ship with us,” Jake mused, and Javy snorted.

“Or it could be bad luck.”

“Nonsense!” Jake cried out, grin wide. He turned his attention to you. “You got any experience sailing, lad?”

You gave another glance at Bradley who gave you a small nod of encouragment.

“No, sir,” you admitted. “But, my father taught me as much as he could before he died.”

Jake hummed, casting one last look at Javy. He looked back at you with a smirk.

“The two of you can follow my quarter master, Javy, here to your quarters.”

You moved to follow Bradley as Javy motioned for the two of you to follow him, but Jake grabbed your wrist to stop you. You looked back at him curiously, and he fixed you with a humor-filled smirk.

“Don’t go causin’ any trouble on my ship now, you hear?” He winked. Your face remained stoic, unsure of how to respond. He let go of your wrist and motioned with his head for you to follow the others. As you walked onto the ship, you glanced behind you to see a pair of twinkling green eyes still staring after you.

The thrill of finally setting sail after a lifetime of having to make due with the stories that Bradley and your father told you was unlike anything you could have imagined. The sea crashed against the underside of the ship, and the ocean spray hit your face in a fine mist. You were leaning off the side of the ship, watching as your home faded away in the distance.

“You lean any farther, and you’ll fall in.”

You jumped, nearly falling off the ship in the process. The man grabbed you quickly with a low hum of “easy” before helping you stand up straight. He was handsome, dark blue eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses, and his brown hair was pushed back off of his face.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Bob.”

“It’s fine,” you breathed, offering him a small smile. “I shouldn’t have been leanin’ over like that. My name is Pete.”

“I heard,” he chuckled. “You’re the talk of the crew. No one knew Maverick had a son.”

“So I’ve heard,” you muttered. Before you could ask him about your father, he clapped a hand on your back, pulling you towards the hull.

“C’mon,” he grinned as the two of you walked. “Let’s go make supper for the crew, cabin boy.”

You followed him down into the dark belly of the ship, moving around crew members as they rested in their bunks. Bob led you into a back room that functioned as the galley. Bob showed you where to find the different tools you would need to prepare different meals for the crew.

“You’ll be expected to help me out with the cooking as the new cabin boy,” he explained as he grabbed ingredients for that night’s meal. You fell into easy conversation with the young man, sharing stories and laughing.

“And then the fish began wriggling, and he hollered so loud, they must have heard it clear across the Atlantic!” Bob laughed as you giggled.

“Reminds me of the time Rooster tried to catch a fish with his bare hands,” you joked, remembering how excited he had been before a rogue wave had taken him by surprise.

Bob turned to you. “What was he like?”

“Who?” you asked, slicing away at the loaf of bread in your hand. “My father?”

Bob nodded, and you paused your movements with a sigh. You stared up at the ceiling as the familiar sense of grief washed over you. “He was very kind. I’ve never met anyone who didn’t like him, actually. He was a great storyteller, too. I remember when I was younger, he would sit by the fireplace next to my mother, and he would tell me stories about men who went on grand adventures off at sea. Rooster used to pretend like he wasn’t listening to the stories, but he’d always ask just as many questions as I would.”

You felt tears prickle at your lashline, and you quckly scrubbed at them. Bob gave you a sympathetic smile.

“You must really miss him,” he said softly. You gave him a watery smile.

“I am who I am today because of him,” you murmured. You jumped when the door to the galley swung open to reveal a handsome man with skin darker than Javy’s.

“Bob, is the food ready yet?” he huffed. Bob scrambled to do one last check over the food before nodding his head.

“Yeah, it’s done Reuben. We’ll bring it out in a minute,” Bob stuttered frantically, rushing to dish out the food. Reuben grunted before turning to walk back out the door.

He stopped, glancing back at Bob. “Oh, before I forget. The captain says he’s eating in his quarters tonight.”

Bob sighed. “Thanks, Reuben.”

The other man sent him a wave over his shoulder and departed without another word. Bob quickly handed you a serving dish before pushing you towards the door.

“You better go,” he murmured. “The captain doesn’t like waiting. His quarters are upstairs and the door right in front of you when you enter the hall. Knock on it when you get there.”

You gave him a nod before turning to make your way in the direction he specified. You passed several men who were gathered around the end of a large table. They all cried out at the sight of the dice that rolled out of the cup and onto the table.

“Snake eyes!”

The air turned cool as you stepped out onto the deck, the last rays of the sun disappearing beneath the horizon. You saw the multitude of stars that were already shining in the night sky, and you could just make out some of the constellations your father had taught you.

“The most important star you’ll ever need to know, little minnow,” he had whispered to you one night, guiding your eyes up to the heavens, “is Polaris, the north star. A sailor is never lost as long as they can find it. It brings me home to you, your mother, and Bradley every time I’m away.”

You stared at the shining star, heart wrenching. “You didn’t bring him home.”

You continued on, stepping into the hallway where three doors stood. You walked up to the one directly in front of you, knocking like Bob had instructed. A beat past, and the door opened to reveal Javy standing in front of you. He blinked, taking in your much smaller form.

“Cabin boy,” he greeted, eyes looking at you with intrigue still. You cleared your throat, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

“I’ve brought the captain his supper,” you murmured, eyes looking everywhere but at the man before you. “I’m sorry, sir. We didn’t know you’d be eating here as well.”

“I’m not,” he replied, taking the serving dish carefully from you. “I’ll be joining the crew momentarily. I’ll give the captain his meal, cabin boy. You go on ahead.”

You hesitated. You weren’t sure why you did, but the sound of pained grunt from inside the cabin caught your attention. You moved to peer inside, but the quarter master blocked your view.

“That will be all, cabin boy,” he gritted out, a warning in his eyes. You nodded hesitantly before turning to slowly make your way back out onto the deck.

When you made your way back into the galley, you found that Bob had already begun to dish out some of the plates.

“Are you alright?” he asked you, seeing the pinched look on your face. You looked up at him quickly before giving him a very unconvincing smile in reassurance.

“Yes,” you said. “I thought I heard someone in pain in the captain’s cabin.”

Bob stilled for a moment before continuing his movements, humming in thought. “Was anyone there with him?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Javy was there.”

Bob breathed a breath of relief. “That’s good, then. He’ll take care of Jake, don’t you worry.”

You hummed, grabbing a plate he handed you and walking out to serve the rest of the crew.

A couple of weeks had gone by, and you were slowly falling into a routine aboard the ship. Bob kept you busy with meal preparations and stories of the different places the crew had visited during their travels. He was regaling you with one such tale as the two of you sat in the shade provided by the upper deck.

“I think you’ll like Jamaica, Pete,” Bob grinned at you.

“Why’s that?” you ask him, glancing at him sideways with a grin of your own.

“It’s great over there! The beaches are beautiful, and the food is amazing!”

“Personally,” drawled a deep voice, “I think Pete here would be more of a New Orleans fan.”

The two of you looked up to see Jake leaning against a barrel, and both of you scrambled to stand up.

“Captain,” you greeted, and Jake raised an eyebrow at you.

“I see you’ve been working hard.”

“We were just taking a break, Jake,” Bob muttered. Jake hummed at him before gesturing towards the hull.

“Why don’t you go finish preparing for tonight’s meal?”

Bob sighed, moving to obey the captain’s orders with you following.

“Not you, cabin boy,” Jake called after you with a smirk. You stopped, casting Bob a worried glance, but he gave you a smile in encouragement.

“I’ll see you down there,” he whispered to you. “Don’t let him scare you, okay? His bark is worse than his bite.”

“I heard that,” Jake groused. Bob chuckled before patting you gently on the shoulder and continuing on his way. You turned around to face the blond man who was watching you with a twinkle in his eye that you couldn’t place.

“What is it you need from me, Captain?” you asked him, hands folded behind your back. Jake’s smirk grew.

“No need to be so formal, cabin boy,” he chuckled. “You might as well call me Jake. Everyone else around here does.”

“I’ll call you ‘Jake’ when you call me ‘Pete,’” you shoot back at him, clamping your mouth shut as Jake let out a booming laugh, throwing his head back in glee.

“Any other captain would have had you flogged, cabin boy,” he grinned at you. “But lucky for you, I’m not them. Go on and help Bob with the food, and tell him to stop griping at the lack of supplies. We’ll be docking at Port Royal in the morning.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You turned to walk away, but Jake called after you.

“Oh, cabin boy?”

You turned to look at him.

“I never properly welcomed you that day,” he smirked, eyes shining. You frowned at him in confusion. Pushing up off the barrel, he strutted along the deck towards the stairs that led up to the upper deck. Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Welcome aboard the Hangman.”

[godofdumpsterfalling]

Headcanon Dump - Hermes & Apollo ft. Dionysus (Riordanverse)

Because I have a mountain of these and if I don’t organize them they will be completely incoherent. Under a cut for length.

- Apollo basically raised Hermes, for all the value of “raised” when concerning gods.

- Maia did not want to be a mother, and had no idea how to. She tried, and did care about Hermes, but was secretly relieved when Hermes took to following Apollo everywhere. Zeus was really perfecting his parenting style of the day, which was caring about his kids from a distance (he had other priorities, they were not really near the top) and occasionally popping in to give some Fatherly Advice or have bonding moment (omg taking his kids fishing…deadbeat dad core for REAL) before fucking off again like “parental control duties DONE I am SUCH a good dad. See you again in like 50 years, sport!” It was particularly bad when Hermes was born.

- Hermes followed Apollo around for a solid couple hundred years, acting as his shadow pretty much. It drove Athena and Artemis CRAZY. Apollo’s extroverted ass was completely baffled by people being off put by his baby brother basically being attached to his back. He’s not gonna bother you he’s just gonna hang out?? What’s the problem??

- Hermes stayed in a younger form for a looong time because he knew Apollo would never say no to him if he looked cute enough. Until he got hit with the depression beam, he kept whipping that form out whenever he got in trouble. He’s baby, your honor, you can’t be mad at a BABY

- Hermes held Dionysus for 2 seconds before he decided he was willing to die for this little guy. The couple hours after he was born were spent by Hermes holding him up to random family members and going “LOOK AT HIM HES SO SMALL” and the family members going “Hermes please do your job”

- When Dionysus joined Olympus, Hermes eagerly took him under his wing in a similar manner to Apollo taking on Hermes. Not as much weird parental responsibility though. But he was still following Apollo everywhere so Apollo got TWO mischievous shadows. Much to Artmemis’ dismay. Why are there TWO OF THEM

- All they ever had to do was duck behind Apollo and he’d defend them against whoever they’d pissed off now even when they were 100% in the wrong. Especially when they were 100% in the wrong, honestly.

- Zeus and Hermes’ relationship has a lot of layers (a post for another time) but the bare bones basics is that early on Zeus just thought he was a Clown (that’s my funny boy <3) and nowadays he’s Zeus’ under appreciated, overworked personal assistant. Although he’s kind of been Zeus’ lapdog since the beginning. Father Please Notice Me I am not as shiny as Apollo but I can roll over so nice pls pls pls

- Hermes has not had a nap in the past century somebody please help him. Give your local delivery man a nice tip because he has like 20 other domains and would rather be doing Literally Anything Else. And also a hug maybe, the most contact he ever gets is when he brushes hands with whoever he’s giving a package. Somebody get this man a paid vacation he has been holding Olympus together with duct tape

- Hermes has the worst case of Middle Child Syndrome Known To Man

- Hermes and Artemis like each other! Shockingly. For reasons unrelated to Apollo, even. They just like to hang out. Hermes is one of the two Olympians she’s happy to be around <3

- Apollo has tried, with varying success, to get Hermes and Athena to be friends. The results have been… mixed.

- Athena, Apollo and Hermes will occasionally have absolutely legendary verbal smackdowns. So brutal that it would actually evaporate a mortal on the spot. Indescribable, really. Anyone who overhears them will never mentally recover,

[sapphossparenoterbook]

Succubi

Agatha Harkness x Jennifer Kale, minor Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

For @hannah-0730!! I hope you like it, I tried to stick to your original post as much as possible!

For anyone interested, the original post is here

Agatha has lived a long, long life, which is why she has had thousands upon thousands of fake identities to protect her actual identity. She had thought, of course, that nobody had ever caught on to the fact that she has been at many historical events, and had a few slightly less important events crafted around her. That’s why she’s so stunted when Billy suddenly asks:

“Agatha? Is it true that you’re Jolene? Like… THE Jolene, from the Dolly Parton song?” 

Suddenly, memories from her life in the 70’s take hold, and she phases out thinking about how she had actually been intending to seduce Dolly and not her stupid, ugly boyfriend or whatever they were at that point. She’d earned a slap for that, and Rio had pretty much instantly known who the song was about, and it caused them to have another few years of affairs again. That was very fun, Rio gets sexy when she’s jealous…

Suddenly, Agatha’s trip down memory lane is rudely abrupt by the annoying, snarky drawl of Jennifer Kale. If it wasn’t for her running her mouth all the time, she’d be hot as fuck–no, she is definitely still hot as fuck, but she’d be even more so. 

“Billy, don’t be stupid, why would anyone like Agatha enough to mumble her pseudonym in his sleep– and why would Dolly Parton be intimidated enough to write a song about that old hag, of all people!” 

Agatha is using her magic before she even clocks what she’s doing, but she’s sick and tired of Jen running her mouth and getting no consequence for it, and it won’t exactly hurt the other woman in any way. 

“Something people don’t know about me…” Agatha says, stopping the group and moving so that she stands in front of Jen, slowly moving forward so that they’re chest to chest, her magic flaring out and manipulating the other witch into being much easier to seduce. 

“... is that I can be quite persuasive, when I wanna be, Jen” she draws out the second half of the sentence, letting her voice go deeper and more husky than usual, bringing her hand up to gently grab at Jen’s chin, and force her to stare directly into Agatha’s eyes. Jen gulps, and her eyes slightly widened, something Agatha can only notice from so close up. 

“Do you understand, Jen? Maybe you see where I'm coming from?” She asks, letting her thumb gently rub at the prominent bone of Jen’s jaw. 

Jen lets out a quiet squeak, or a squeal? And then she whispers out her response, “...yeah, I think so…” And Agatha can’t help the smirk she gives off when Jen’s head slightly starts to lean into her hand, and then Jen starts leaning in, slowly but definitely, and she closes her eyes and shudders when when Agatha instead leans over to her ear, “Aww, look at how quickly you broke, honey! Do you want some attention, is that it? Is that why you’re so grumpy and mean all the time, you just want love and attention,hm?” She speaks mockingly, but Jen definitely loves it, letting out another little squeak that this time is most definitely a moan. Jen leans in for another kiss, and Agatha teasingly pulls back again, and in the corner of her eye she sees Lilia cover Billy’s eyes as Jen whines and leans in quite quickly this time, and brings her into a kiss. 

It’s searing; desperate, and quite clear that Jen is definitely feeling the effects of her succubus powers–good. Agatha feels a sick and slightly twisted pleasure in being able to manipulate Jen this way, and takes control of the kiss, slipping her tongue into Jen’s mouth and kissing her deeper. 

At the sound of Jen letting off another moan, Agatha feels hands on her shoulders, forcefully ripping her away from Jen, and she turns with a huff to face–Rio. 

Rio, looking sexy and angry, and barely hiding both of those under a weak mask of control. “Agatha!” She shouts, the same tone for if she was telling off a naughty dog, “You’re wasting your powers! You need that energy!” Agatha can’t resist just rolling her eyes and attempting to push past Rio, but without the full strength of her powers, Rio easily stops her from getting away. “Stop being so bratty–what if there is an emergency, and you can't help anyone because you wanted to make Jen horny to piss her off? Huh?!” 

Agatha huffs again, side-eying Jen who is most definitely horny… her face is flushed and she’s got a slightly far away look in her eyes as she stares over at Agatha with none of the irritation and hatred her gaze usually holds when directed at the purple witch. 

“It was an emergency. She doubted my skills, and I needed to prove her wrong.”

“You know what I meant, Agatha! God!” She says, and huffs, barely hiding her jealousy. “An actual fucking emergency!” Agatha giggles, and glances at Jen once again, who is so clearly needy, and when Agatha and Rio return to walking down the road, she follows like a lost puppy. Lilia full on belly laughs at her, and Billy looks absolutely fucking disgusted at what just happened. And most definitely scarred for life. 

Rio occasionally throws some glares over her shoulder at Jen, and pulls Agatha closer to her whenever Jen looks back up at them. Totally not jealous!

[lucyandthepen]

(give me that) can't sleep love | cyj

you’ve been managing yeonjun flawlessly for a few good years now, but there are just some things you can’t keep under control. the obvious solution? a blind date that skews towards the unexpected.

pairing: solo idol!yeonjun x reader rating: T genre: romance warnings: none! like the narrative has a swear word like idk once? word count: 3.5k 

author’s notes: yeah it’s not actually valentine’s day but we write for a completely new fandom because we simply have no restraint !! just kidding, i’ve actually been hoping to extend my writing for other groups, but i haven’t yet because i’m extremely slow and a bit fickle. this is my first time writing for anything txt, but i hope to do so a bit more in the future! 

if you like it, please consider reblogging to help spread the word!

Maybe your mom was right. Maybe the entertainment industry just isn’t for you.

She’d actively warned you against dedicating your time to, well, anything involving the glitz and glam, but you just hadn’t listened. There had been good opportunities, great experiences you’d never get anywhere else. For the most part, your choices had helped that expectation become that reality; you’d met people not just anyone got to meet, and you’d definitely had a substantial amount of unique encounters.

Still, you were aware that the only reason you’d ever gotten the chance to taste a little bit of the high life was because you had Yeonjun on your side. Choi Yeonjun — the rising star of the idol world, with a better career trajectory than the guy who owned Apple, it seemed. His job was the access pass to everything you enjoyed. Unfortunately, your ticket to all the good things was also the key to your prolonged misery.

As his manager, you have a ton of roles to play — logistics coordinator, scheduler, alarm clock, wardrobe checker, and, on one unfortunate incident, last-minute make-up artist when the original girl had been a no-show. You were supposed to be busy at every turn, but Yeonjun on the job was something of a well-oiled machine, learning how to feed himself while you were on the phone and follow the line-up to the letter as long as he was awake enough to do it. It’s possible you could blame him for all the downtime you got that had led to the bulk of the problem.

Actually, you aren’t sure when it started or even how. Maybe it had happened somewhere in the middle of all his showcases and shows, sandwiched between the constant fever of communication and movement. Maybe it had come up in those hectic car rides where you’d spent a ton of time reminding him of what to do and what to expect. Or maybe it had grown with every time you had to wake him up in one of many lonely hotel rooms, with his head half-buried in the pillow to muffle the sleepy groans he’d use to respond to your soft voice.

Whenever it was, all you could be sure of was that you liked him. A lot. Maybe even with the time you’d come to know him, after all these years, a part of you was ready to say you loved him.

But that was the biggest barrier in the job, wasn’t it? Managers are supposed to stop their idols from dating, not want to do it with them. For the most part, you’ve been successful in holding yourself back from doing something stupid, which is technically the bare minimum for you. These days, though, you aren’t sure what it is; maybe you’re just on edge from all the work in this year’s promotional stint, and that kind of contributes to a weakened mentality, or some kind of wack explanation like that, but you find yourself more often losing your train of thought when you’re with him. Even without detailing the specifics to your friends and co-workers, they’ve noticed something was bothering you. They’d urged you to relieve yourself of your duties a little, maybe hire a co-manager to do all the menial stuff, but you know that’s not really the issue. Only one person — Sunyoung, Yeonjun’s wardrobe stylist — had managed to hit the nail on the head semi-accurately.  

“Look, I get it,” she’d said one evening, after she’d shooed Yeonjun out of the dressing room so he could strap on his in-ear piece and prepare for the stage. You were supposed to be running around like a headless chicken, making sure everything was in check, but you were just slumped on the couch in the dressing room playing some dumb shark game your nephew had downloaded onto your phone. “You’re tired. You’re lonely. You can’t even go out for a cup of coffee without worrying about Yeonjun. But he’s fine. You can relax a little.”

“I’m totally relaxed,” you’d mumbled, watching your shark devour a poor surfer on your screen. “I’m fine.”

“Then you should get out more. Leave all of this behind and meet new people. Go on a date. Listen,” she’d covered your phone with her palm, and you heard the telltale music of your game coming to a bitter end. “Do something fun. Go on a date, seriously. I can set you up. It doesn’t even have to be anything serious, ____________! Just do something not work-related for once next week, and get this toxicity or whatever out of your system.”

You didn’t have the heart to say no or the courage to admit that nothing really would happen if that date wasn’t with Yeonjun, considering how far gone you were, so you’d just agreed.

Sunyoung had set you up for a Valentine’s Day date. Ironically, while the point was supposedly to get your mind off of Yeonjun on that day, he had a scheduled fan sign in Sinchon that you couldn’t miss out on. You had to pack an extra set of nicer clothes and a make-up bag that Yeonjun had eyed questioningly but silently as you’d entered the van.

“So how long is this fan sign?” He’d asked instead, immediately turning his attention to his phone the moment the van had started moving.

“Until six.”

“Then I don’t have another schedule, right?”

“No.” You don’t really ask why he’s curious; Yeonjun enjoys his personal time, as any celebrity does. “You’re free after. The van can take you home, or wherever else you need to be.”

He’d hummed appreciatively, fixated on his phone, and the rest of the ride is consumed in silence until you’d arrive at the venue.  

Yeonjun is whisked immediately into hair and make-up, and Sunyoung emerges from his dressing tent a few moments after he disappears inside, portable clothes steamer in hand. “Hey; did you get my text?”

You shake your head; you’d spent the car ride irresponsibly ignoring your phone, opting to gnaw on one of your nails instead.  

“I sent you the details of a reservation slot in this nice Italian place near Dongdaemun. Just drop my name and they’ll lead you to the table.”

“Look, I don’t really know if I want to do this,” you mumble sheepishly. “Blind dating isn’t my speed.”  

“Just go. It’ll be fine. If you don’t like him, you don’t like him. Just give it a shot. If all else fails, just enjoy the pasta,” she’d said with finality, bopping the nozzle of the steamer on your shoulder as she walks away.  

Yeonjun is out of the dressing room in twenty minutes, and even then, you’re not sure why it takes that long. You’ve consistently held the belief that Yeonjun doesn’t need make-up to look good, and you can hardly tell when he has it on, anyway. Still, it’s nice to see his stylist pushing his hair up into a neat, tiny quiff, and he’s changed from his standard white tee and jeans to something that resembles a casual suit. You guessed they did it for Valentine’s Day — emulating the coveted boyfriend look, and all that.  

“How do I look?” He asks you, right before you lead him onstage. His eyes follow your hand as you fix the front of his jacket quickly.  

“Great,” you reply. “As usual.”

“So until six, right?” His mouth is lifting into a grin that you can’t really understand.  

“Until six,” you confirm, now a little curious. “You got somewhere to be?”  

“Not sure,” he looks down at you enigmatically. “It’s my off time, so we’ll see what happens.”  

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, even though there’s no heat in your words. You know he’s not dumb enough to gallivant around doing things that will get him on Dispatch’s radar.  

He just laughs, giving you a small wink before he hops onstage, taking two steps at a time. The voices around you are drowned out by the screams that ensue once his fans see him.  

From then on, it’s just the same pattern for the next two hours — you, standing on one corner of the stage beside a guy from security, watching hundreds of girls in a line titter and scream and fall to their knees in front of the table where Yeonjun is seated at. They’ve all got albums in their hands, offering them to him reverently for a signature, and he takes them all good-naturedly, scrawling his name and some short, practically unreadable message somewhere around it while chatting with them about food he likes and what movies he’s into these days.  

Since it’s Valentine’s Day, a ton of girls come with romantic gifts — flowers, chocolates, goodies baskets. One girl even brings a large teddy bear, plopping it down in front of him unceremoniously and scaring Yeonjun into accidentally miswriting his signature. You and the rest of his management team aren’t really strict about prohibiting gifts, but Yeonjun refuses all of them — nicely, of course, but to the disappointment of many fans. Every time he says no, he glances at you, like he’s worried you’re going to tell him off if he says yes. You’d wondered once before if he was just trying to pin the blame on you, but you know he’s not cruel like that. Today doesn’t make a difference; he rejects people with apologetic looks as he gives their albums back, and you can see their dejection as they trod off the stage. The teddy bear girl had left the toy by the stairs in her disappointment.  

Yeonjun starts his closing ment at a quarter to six, and you tap the security guy next to you to remind him to bring him straight backstage after he’s finished before dashing off and ducking into the dressing room to change. You hear deafening cheers coupled with Yeonjun’s cute little goodbye! that signal the end of the fan sign, and you’ve just finished combing your hair back when Yeonjun walks in, idly patting his hair to see if everything is still in place.

“You look nice,” he observes casually, shrugging off his jacket. You try to avoid looking at him, even if his shoulders are so impossibly broad that you can’t really ever keep them out of your peripheral vision. “Do you have plans?”  

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you admit, unsure as to why you feel so guilty for saying so. You’re not dating, you have to remind yourself. And you’re allowed to go out after work.

“Meeting someone special?”  

“I’m not sure. Could be. I don’t know who I’m meeting, if I’m being honest.”  

His expression is unreadable; his fingers are twirling his marker in quick, hypnotizing circles.  

“Well, have fun,” he finally says, moving to hang his jacket on the back of a chair. “You should take the subway or something. Rush hour, and all that.”  

“Thanks for the tip.” His words sound pretty dismissive, but you’re not sure why you don’t just leave right away. Maybe you’re expecting him to say something, although it’s really more about what you wish he would rather than what he reasonably would, and he just continues to stare quietly, still toying with the Sharpie. “If you… need anything, just call. You know?”  

“I know,” he replies simply. “But I won’t bother you on a date. That’s just plain rude.”

“I’ll still answer. You know you’re more important than a blind date.”  

“Am I?” He looks amused. “Sounds like you take this job too seriously. Don’t worry about me. I’ll probably just go home after all. There’s a wildlife documentary I’m dying to catch.”  

You’re pretty sure you hadn’t meant the job, but you don’t correct him considering how that would out you. “Okay. See you bright and early tomorrow. Remember you’ve got a radio interview at nine, so can you please not stop by Starbucks before you go home? Please?”  

“Sure, sure,” he waves you and your nagging off, and you bolt out of the door, feeling kind of stupid and a little flushed.  

You take Yeonjun’s advice and get on the subway, except the first two trains Dongdaemun-bound are full to the brim and you have to squeeze yourself into the car of the third train by elbowing a couple of annoying teenage boys. The other problem you run into is that the train station exits are a fair way away from your destination, and you aren’t used to running in heels. You clip-clop your way down the sidewalk and hit every red light for the pedestrian crossings, much to your ire. At one point, you stop in the middle of the crossing and consider just storming back to the opposite end of the road and going home, but the subway station is too far away for that choice to make sense at that point anyway.  

By the time you get to the restaurant, you’re about fifteen minutes late and have to sit on the chairs for walk-in customers to give your feet a break. The guy at the front of the house has the decency to wait for you to catch your breath and even quietly point out that a lock of hair is stuck to your lip gloss before he asks if you have a reservation.  

You nervously pick at your dress and comb the ends of your hair as you follow him. You notice someone is already seated at the table, back to you and looking over the menu. You think about all the things that you want to say — sorry for being late, have you been waiting long?, I totally understand if you want to just leave — but there’s a weird nagging in the back of your mind that grows as you approach the table.  

Maybe Sunyoung had known you had a type, so to speak —lean, sharp, nicely dressed. Technically, that wasn’t such a difficult set of characteristics to find, but the fact that they were all rolled up into one package seated at your table, so similar to the guy you’ve pinned as ideal, was just kind of spooky. Even the fact that your blind date was laughing to himself at God knows what, alongside the fact that the way his angular shoulders moved up and down comically the way his would, isjust weird.

That, or…  

All thoughts of apologizing fly out the window once you reach the table. All you can do is stare, your ears ringing and your fingers clutching your wallet tightly. Your mind has completely disconnected from reality, and the first thing that tumbles out of your mouth is loud and a little crude.  

“Literally, what the hell?”  

All the guy at your table can do is laugh harder, clearly because he’s Lee Freaking Yeonjun, and he’s finding this situation sidesplittingly hilarious.  

“Yeonjun,” you hiss, your hand flying up and curling into a fist in an attempt to restrain yourself from grabbing him by the collar. “What are you doing here?”  

It takes him another half-minute to sober down, and he’s still chuckling a little as he answers. “Waiting for my date, obviously.”  

“Explain,” you demand, pointedly ignoring the looks couples from another table are giving you.

“Okay, but you have to sit down first,” he motions to the seat across from him. You pull it back and plop down onto it, gaze unwavering. He pauses, kind of dramatically, before continuing. “So there’s a set course meal, but I know you don’t like shellfish, so I thought—”

“I don’t want an explanation of the menu!” You shut your eyes, trying to block out the scene for a second. This can’t be happening. It makes no sense. “I want to know — wait, is this a prank?” 

“What? No, of course not.”  

“How are you here?”  

“I took the van here,” he says, once again elusive. “I actually thought you’d get here before me, but then I realized you probably had to walk a long way. Sorry.” He has the decency to look sheepish at this point.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m on a date?” He shakes his head. “What’s not clicking, ____________?”

“Don’t sass me. Please. Do me that one courtesy, if nothing else.” He watches you down your water in one go, still looking politely amused. “Did Sunyoung put you up to this?”  

“Actually, I asked her to rope you in.”

“Because?”  

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” He looks incredulous. “Because I like you. I thought that was kind of obvious from the get-go.”

Nothing is making sense to you. Your head is starting to hurt a little, maybe from the situation, maybe from the cold water you’d drunk too fast. “How was it obvious?” You thought you had been kind of obvious, which was why you had attempted to stay distant and pretty aloof for the past few months.  

“I listen to everything you say.”

“You have to,” you point out wearily. “That’s literally supposed to be our professional relationship.”  

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have done it so well and so frequently if it were anyone else who were my manager,” he tries to reason, then continues when you look unconvinced. “And the gifts. I don’t take them.”  

“So?”  

“So, I don’t have a reason to not take them, technically. I just don’t because I don’t want you to think I’m accepting other people’s affections.”  

“That makes no sense. They’re your fans, so that has nothing to do with personal affections. You’re terrible at this.”  

“Okay, fine — but so are you!” His voice transitions into something a little accusing. “It’s not like you’ve been good at showing me you like me either.”  

He pauses, and for the first time in your life, you see something cross his face — uncertainty, maybe, or anxiety.  

“You do like me, don’t you?”  

The fire of indignant anger fueled by your initial shock dies down, and you’re left feeling a little embarrassed now. The entire walk here, you’d been torturing yourself with the fantasy that you could be somewhere else with Yeonjun on a date, but now that he’s seated across you in the flesh, you have no clue what to do or how to react properly. You toy with your napkin, but you feel his eyes burning into you.  

“Fine. I do, but,” you raise your voice a little at the conjunction; he doesn’t even take you seriously, choosing to look relieved instead. “But I’m not supposed to, Yeonjun. This is bad.”  

“Why? We’re at an old people restaurant. No one’s going to recognize us.”  

“Because I’m not supposed to go on dates with the idol I’m managing.”

“Be honest,” his bottom lip juts out. “Is that all you think of me?”  

Your lips thin out into a tight line; it’s easy to say no if you’re cheeky like him, but you’re pretty sure it’s easier to fire a manager for dating off-bounds than it is to cut off an idol’s career for the same reason.  

“Can’t we be, you know,” he points between the two of you. “Just us? Not manager and idol. Just you and me. Just for tonight. And we can see how it goes.”  

You hate that you cave so easily. You hate that you know you do because you like him so much. Your hand comes up to your face, trying to rub the ache away from your temples. A small, triumphant grin is growing on Yeonjun, like he already knows what you’re going to say. It occurs to you that after all this time you’ve come to know him well, he may have reached the same level of familiarity with you as well.

“Fine,” you mumble, and he doesn’t even contain his joy, pumping his fist into the air embarrassingly. “Fine. Just for tonight.”  

“Just for tonight,” he agrees. “Then we can see how it goes.”  

When you finally decide to meet his eye, you can’t help but laugh softly. He’s looking a little smug, and you want to smack him, or maybe just kiss him a little, but you just nudge his foot under the table. It doesn’t do anything to faze that little shit-eating expression on his face.  

“Don’t think this gets you off of waking up early,” you warn, but you never do get to threaten him effectively with just how soft your words are. “I’m still hauling you out of bed at seven.”

“As long as it’s you,” he grins. “And no one else.”  

“Shut up,” you try to bite back your smile, ducking your head instead to look at the menu when you feel it growing anyway. “Order your food.”  

You know he’s not looking at the menu even as you pretend to peruse it. Still, he falls quiet, eerily so, and you think he’s just staring until you feel something soft land on top of your hand.

Your eyes lift again to his face, and he’s still smiling, albeit a little more serenely, without that joking expression he’s practically trademarked. His hand squeezes yours tightly, and even when he loosens his hold, his palm never leaves yours.  

“You really do look beautiful tonight,” he says softly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, _______________.”  

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Spring, 2020 - San Diego, California

Chapter 7 Part 1 of You Are My Soulmate

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Description: After your inquiry, you've been feeling oddly adrift. It feels weird, being back in your house, in your life like you belong in it. Things feel different. A chance encounter with your soulmate on the beach has you falling into something which seems incredibly close to love.

Disclaimers: Misogynistic speech. Mentioned Homosexual Relationships. Angst. Flagrant disregard for protocols or Authority. Angst. Anguish.

This content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting tag-list requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story.

Warnings: Female!Reader

Word Count: 3880

A/N: You all remember how I teased you with slow burn a year ago, right? We're finally starting to feel the burn now. I know it's taken me nearly a year to get here, but now is when we're going to have some sweet fluff for Tink and Rooster!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

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Tinkerbell

You’ve found yourself retreating to the ocean more often since the day of the inquiry. The crashing waves help you process everything that has happened over the past few months. You've been struck with so much pain, sorrow, and guilt; at times, it feels like you were barely living at all. You’re not sure if you actually lived through those horrible months or if a robot took control of your body. Some of the same feelings came back to you when you walked into your hangar on base the day after the trial.

The work is the same. Your team is the same. Yet, you can’t help feeling like everything has inexplicably changed. Your team has flourished under Commander Greyson's steady, quiet leadership. In your darkest moments, you wonder if they wouldn't be better off without you at the helm. You can't deny that Commander Greyson is brilliant at what he does. There would be so much your team can learn from him - so much you can learn from him. Even the drone project for Admiral Cain is completed with so much detail it makes your head spin. It feels odd, being back on the North Island Naval Base as notorious as you are. It leaves you with a prickling, itching sensation of being seen.

Jake and Javy had dogged you relentlessly that first day, spending all their time off hops draped over the worn sofa in the AMDO hangar in turn like a pair of eager, hungry, sweet Dobermans. They never hesitated to growl at the gossip floating around, even before your inquiry. But you chased them away after the first day, knowing you needed to stand by yourself. Being back home, in your actual house, helps too. The familiar sights and smells wrap you in a warm hug. So does being able to tinker with your cars and motorcycles.

But what you've missed the most when staying with Jake and Javy was having the sea nearby. The crashing of the waves, the salt in the air, the way the sand is rough under your feet. Every night, you had taken to languidly strolling at the tide line, relishing in the prickle of small seashells against the pads of your feet in the wet sand. The rush of water soothes the roar of your thoughts and grounds you. If only it could soothe your unconscious mind as well as the sea soothes your conscious thoughts. 

Of course, nothing can soothe your thoughts, not even the rush of the ocean in the distance as Bradley opens the passenger side door for you in front of a gorgeous off-white stucco house. The long, shaded drive is packed with cars, and you can feel your nerves with every footstep you take. You willingly take hold of a couple of the many tote bags full of alcohol Penny had given Bradley because you may not be sure what you’re doing here. You're still not sure why you accepted his invitation to celebrate his dad. Still, at least you can cart alcohol into the colossal house.

When the door opens, it's to a wall of pure sound. You're shell-shocked by it but more so by the slight man with dark hair and green eyes standing at the threshold.

“A-admiral Mitchell!” With your arms encumbered by the bags, you can’t salute, though a part of you wishes you could.

“At ease, Lieutenant Commander.” His grin is mischievous, and his voice is sardonic. “Come on in. I'm glad Bradley finally got off of his ass and invited you out to meet us.”

Your smile is nearly a grimace as you follow Admiral Mitchell into the kitchen and set the bags down on one of the counters. You turn and brush invisible dust off of your fingers. Admiral Mitchell's looking at you with a knowing smile on his face.

“I guess he didn't tell you he was bringing you here?”

You shake your head and let him take the bags out of your hands. “Well, you’re always welcome, kid. And please. Call me, Mav.”

The door swings open again, and this time, you’re hit with a waft of that sandalwood scent that you’re quickly coming to adore. It's Bradley, and you're not sure why, but he's easily holding all of the other bags, bulging with bottles of alcohol in his brawny arms.

“Hey, Baby Goose!” You grin at the naked affection in the other man’s words. “It took you long enough to get Tinkerbell to come here.”

“But, kiddo, you could’ve at least warned her what she was walking into!” 

Maverick Mitchell looks like he’s practically leaping for joy. You have to stifle your snicker as a blush crawls its way up Bradley’s neck.

“It was a spontaneous invitation, Dad.” Now, the endearment has you looking wide-eyed at Bradley.

“Go on, get all the drinks in the kitchen. Ice is out in the backyard, manning the grill. All of the others are out there, too. Grab whatever you’d like for yourselves, and get on out there!” Mav seems quite content to ignore the look on your face, skirting around you and Bradley in the hallway and disappearing through an arch at the end of the hallway when someone calls his name.

“Come on, Tink.” You follow his broad shoulders as he leads you through the house. The walls are covered with pictures, a lot of them depicting a tow-headed boy in various stages of growth. Of course, you realize they're Bradley when you see his graduation pictures right next to his Officer promotion pictures on the wall. When you walk through the same arch Mav disappeared through, you’re spellbound at the sight of the sun setting through the big picture windows. There are fairy lights strung through the trees and music playing. On an impromptu dance floor, you can see couples dancing.

There are a lot of people floating through the backyard. You recognize most of them from dossiers and others from reputations built on hearsay in the Navy, and all of a sudden, you're absolutely sure you shouldn't be here at all. The icing on the proverbial cake is when you see Mav kissing Iceman, yeah, that Iceman, tenderly on the lips.

“Yeah, Dad and Pops are soulmates.” You squeak just a little as those words hit.

“So you’re telling me your dad, Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, and your Pops, Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky, the COMPACFLT of the US Navy, are soulmates?”

You’re sure you can be excused for your tone. This is a whopper of a secret to find out. Bradley takes one look at your face and snickers like he can’t believe the expression on his face. You poke your elbow into his side gently, trying to make him let up on his teasing. You’re not serious about it, enjoying the light air between the two of you. But when Bradley wraps his arm around your waist, you have to sigh at the warmth his arms bring you. He stops moving when he’s wrapped around you, one hand securely holding his beer, the other curled around your front like it was made to be there.

His sandalwood scent wraps you up as securely as his arms do. Standing here, seeing the sun setting behind the party happening out in the yard, it almost feels like you can do this - be soulmates with Bradley Bradshaw. Obviously, there is a lot you still need to talk to him about. But, the warmth Mav has shown you as some of Bradley’s only family goes a long way.

“It’s beautiful here,” you hum as you sip from your icy cold cider bottle, relishing in the condensation dripping onto your sun-warmed skin.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” There’s something reverent in Bradley’s voice as he looks out over the yard with its sprawling green lawn.

“I’ve always wanted to have a life like Mav and Ice’s.” He smiles softly, his eyes sparkling in the golden light of the setting sun like amber shot through with motes of molten gold.

“My mom and dad have a house, you know?” You gasp and slide your fingers down until they’re laced with his across your stomach.

“It’s in Virginia. They got acres of land with the property. My mom’s parents gave it to my mom and dad when they got married. I can’t help but wonder if everything would have been different if I still had them both with me.”

“They loved you, Rooster. I don’t have to have met them to know that. They would have adored seeing the man you’ve become, Bradley.”

“I know they would have, Tinkerbell. I wish I could make that house a home, is all.”

“Who is to say you still can’t?”

“Who would want to build a life with me, anyhow?” There is sorrow in his voice, the same emotion streaking across his face in a flash.

“Well, I know I would be willing to try?” You’re not sure what prompts the words to spill out of your mouth. They feel so right on your tongue. The words also leave you feeling oddly vulnerable because they’re the vocalization of a dream you’ve been carrying yourself for a very long time. Bradley’s sweet intake of breath makes something light up in your chest.

“I’d like that,” he chuckles, “C’mon. Let me introduce you to everyone here. They’re the closest things to a family I’ve got. I want them to like you, but chances are, they’ll love you. They might not love me once they hear what happened, though.”

You slide your drink onto a table and slip your arms around his waist. His arms curl around you tenderly. His lips feather against the top of your head in a soft, barely there kiss.

“They’re your family, Roo. They’re going to love you no matter what.” 

He chuckles ruefully at your earnest words.

“They’re going to love you too, Tinkerbell.”

With those final words on the matter, you’re whisked out into the setting sun. A part of you can’t believe you’re out here rubbing elbows with US Navy elites. Every person Bradley introduces you to is another surprise. Before you can blink, you’ve chatted with Rear Admiral Kerner, who asks you to call him Slider, and laughed with Admiral Kazansky. You adore how this colossal cobbled-together family acts with each other. Every conversation is littered with inside jokes and teasing words. But more than how happy you are, it’s gratifying seeing how happy Bradley is. He seems to be in his element, laughing and reminiscing. There have been so many stories of Goose Bradshaw where you’ve seen him wiping away tears even while laughing that gloriously deep belly laugh.

People leave the party in pairs and trios, alcohol-soaked with colossal smiles curling their lips and laughter sneaking out as the ocean breeze brushes through the trees, salt-laden and wet as it smacks into your face. Before long, there are only a handful of the guests left in the garden. You’re not sure when he lit it, but Mav has started up a fire in the firepit, coals glowing red in the night air. You join the rest of the stragglers around the bonfire, settling in next to Bradley in one of the Adirondack chairs.

“So, Tinkerbell.” Your head snaps up so fast at the sound of her voice that it kind of hurts. It’s Sarah, The Iceman’s sister and Slider’s wife (how is this your life), who asks you, “How did you meet our Bradley?”

You swallow your sip of cider hurriedly - nearly choking on the fizzy liquid - caught on the spot as every face in the circle turns to you. Bradley grins as he lays an arm securely over your shoulders. That first night at The Hard Deck feels like it was a million years ago. A part of you can’t believe that it has only been a little over six months. It feels like you’re reliving that night over again when you recount it. You can taste the cocktails you’d been downing all night on your tongue. You half feel the sensations of Bradley’s hands on your skin as you recount the crush of people in the bar that night and the fear as you nearly get trampled. 

You unconsciously turn until you face Bradley, drinking in the sight of his face as he looks at you as you retell the first meeting of your fraught relationship. The electricity you’d felt that night is swarming through your veins again as you finish your retelling. You don’t mention a thing about the words you’d shared with him before leaving the Hard Deck and how you’d cried your eyes out in your bed at home, jet lag and exhaustion working in concert to make the words hit harder than they ever should have.

“That’s such a sweet story!” Sarah has a dreamy look on her face as she reaches for Slider’s hands with her own. They look so happy with each other, true soulmates if you’ve ever seen them. But you’re not one to ask. Since you were a little girl, you’ve had it drilled into your head to never ask someone what their soulmate marks are or even if their partner is their soulmate. It’s considered incredibly rude to do so when you’re not immediate family members or intimate friends. There are still people who do it, but they are rare and mostly do it to be rude. “I’m sure the two of you are going to be very happy together.”

You smile a little stiltedly, not sure how to answer that because while things are good between you and Bradley right now, far better than that first night anyhow, they’re far from where you could believe you’ve reached your happily ever after. Bradley seems just as discomfited as you are by his aunt’s well-meaning words. He joins the next conversation topic with aplomb, energy radiating out with him until it seems like everyone is wrapped up in the fun as the music plays low and quiet out of the speaker system. A few minutes later, he tugs you up out of your Adirondack and pulls you down towards the bottom of the garden.

“They love you, sweetheart.” You grin, wild and unabashed, as his words make you light up. Your heart is soaring, but your brain’s still unsure of this sudden need to have him at arm's reach, always touching you, always close. It feels too easy after all the pain you’ve been through.

“I’m glad, Bradley.”

“You don’t sound glad, Tink.” You’ve been trying to keep your emotions from your face, and now, more than ever, you’re sure you haven’t succeeded.  The bond between the two of you must be acting up as well because Bradley’s got this knowing look on his face. Goosebumps rise on your arms at the thought.

“I am.” He snorts and slides his Hawaiian shirt across your shoulders. It leaves him in just a white singlet. The top clings to his muscles and almost shines under the golden lights. Unbidden, the words spill out of you. 

“I promise I am, Bradley. It doesn’t feel like I deserve this, you know? Being this close to you? Seeing you happy.”

“So what do you want to do?” You fall in love the moment those words leave your soulmate’s mouth. There are no half-hidden attempts to over-explain what you’re feeling or urges to comfort you for something that isn’t a physical struggle. “How can I make it better?”

You shrug, burrowing into the thin fabric of the shirt as the cool ocean breeze wafts across the backyard.

“Would it be weird if we took things kind of slow for the next while?”

“How slow are you thinking?”

“Not too slow.” You’re quick to reassure your soulmate as you wrap an arm around his waist. Even now, there’s an ache burrowing under your skin at not feeling him pressed up against you. “I think we should date each other and get to actually know one another.”

When he doesn’t say anything for several long moments, you start to worry. It has you babbling, “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to?”

His hands gently slide over your cheeks and tip your face up until you can see the soft look in Bradley’s whiskey eyes. 

“It sounds like a good idea.” He chuckles as his lips press against your forehead. “We’ve moved in extremes since we’ve met. We need to get to know each other, care about each other, more than just the feeling of this bond linking us together.”

You feel like you can barely breathe at the look in your soulmate's eyes as he leans in close enough that you can feel his mustache on your lips.

“What do you say about dinner? Tomorrow night?”

You hum in thought, aching to press your lips to his. His body is a line of heat pressed up against yours, and you want more.

“I’d love to.”

His exhale of joy brushes damply across your lips, and at that moment, you can’t resist pressing upwards. His lips are petal soft and gentle as they slide over yours. It’s a sensation in direct counterpoint to the rough bristles of his mustache. Your arms slide around his thick neck, fingers catching at the furrowed scars on the smooth skin. Bradley’s breath catches as you trace lightly across the slightly raised skin. If he’s this responsive to your touch, what would he do if you were tracing your lips and tongue down his throat?

When he pulls away, you whimper, actually honest-to-god whimper, at the feeling of his skin leaving yours.

“Slow, sweetheart.” He chuckles as he pulls away, a tender smile curving his lips. “We said we’d go slow, right?”

“Fine,” you huff, licking your lips in a futile urge to taste more of your soulmate on your skin. If it’s any consolation, Bradley seems to be just as affected by that slow, languid, blood-boilingly hot kiss as you are.

“Tell me more about your dads.” It’s a plea closer to a demand than it should be. But you have to control yourself. If you look at him any longer, you’ll jump him. You can’t do that to him, not when you’ve just decided to go slow.

“What about them?”

You grin. “How’d they meet?”

“At Top Gun.” He’s got a faraway look in his eyes. “When Goose and Mav came to North Island in ‘86, one of their first stops was the O-Club. It was one of the only places catering to mostly Navy personnel and was quite famous. That’s where they ran into Uncle Ron and Pops.”

“Did they like each other at first sight?”

“I don’t think so, sweets.” You chuckle and shiver as another breeze makes the lights sway over your heads.

“Were they better or worse than we were when we met?”

Bradley grins and opens his arms to you. You melt into his arms and sigh in pleasure at the warmth of him in your arms. His voice rumbles comfortingly in his chest as he continues, “I think they were worse, sweets. Much worse.” 

He sounds sardonic and sarcastic, something drier than the desert in his tone.

“So you’re telling me there is worse than calling me “a little thing who just got her position in the Navy on her knees”?” Your tone doesn’t hold any heat because you know while he said something first, you continued it. You’ve definitely given as good as he dished out.

“Shit.” 

You giggle at his hushed exhale because as angry and hurt as you were when you heard him say those words, you’ve forgiven him long ago.

“That was a bad night for me, Tink.” He pulls his hands away from you only to tangle them into his curls as anguish and shame twist his features. Half hidden against his chest, you tug him in closer, soothing his pain with your presence as much as you can.

“You have no idea what you looked like that night, did you? Fuck, you looked so beautiful, it took my breath away. I was hanging on to your every word. From the first thing you said to me, I was seconds away from ripping that little sundress off. All I wanted was to lay you out on my bed and never let you go.”

When you inhale, it feels like the ocean-laden breeze burns. If he felt like this on that first day, how come he didn’t act on his feelings? 

“Then that fight broke out. All I wanted to do then was protect you. So I grabbed your waist and got you to that bar stool, holding you there with my back to that room so nobody could hurt you. It would’ve been too soon to kiss you then, no matter how much I wanted to, with the heat of your skin imprinted on my fingertips. Too much, too soon. So, after the fight was broken up, I grabbed my drink and tried to look nonchalant. At least, I did until I heard Hangman calling for you. He sounded so worried like he cared so much for you. I assumed then and there, he was your soulmate. So I backed off.”

“I was in a completely shitty mood the rest of the night. I’d never been so close to someone who I thought could be mine. I wanted you, only you. But I managed to convince myself that you weren’t mine, that you would never be mine. I got drunk. So drunk I couldn’t put one foot in front of the other. I let my anger fester, and when it boiled to a fever pitch, I spat those words out when I saw you walk by, at a volume at which I knew you could hear.”

“I’m sorry, Tink.” Bradley’s voice is a growl, a pained one, as he apologizes to you again. “I’d understand if you couldn’t forgive me.”

There’s so much pain on his face you can’t help reaching up until you’re cupping his face in your hands.

“I forgave you a long time ago.”

It feels like an absolution saying those words into the night air. The disbelief on his face cements your decision even more. You forgive Bradley Bradshaw for all of his past sins, and you hope someday he can forgive all of yours, too. You press a kiss to his upturned jaw just because you can.

“There will never be anything but forgiveness between us, darling.”

“But how?” His voice is disbelieving. “How can we get past this?”

“The way we always have been meant to. Together.” Your eyes are soft as you tug on his hands until they wrap around you again. “And maybe, Roo, you should open that mouth and ask me if Jake Seresin is my soulmate next time.”

When he starts to snicker, you laugh, too. He pulls you in closer until he can press his lips to your forehead. You have many questions about your soulmate. For now, standing here at the bottom of the garden at his parent’s house is enough. You have the rest of your life in which to chat with Bradley. It’s a chance you’re not going to give up.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON TUMBLR, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN ON TUMBLR, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@roosters-girl @infamous-reindeer @caitsymichelle13 @mattyskies @cosmic-psychickitty @mygyn @julesclues @greenbaby12 @bubblegumbeautyqueen @briseisgone @soulmates8 @meganlpie @captain-fandomwriter58 @caidi-paris @mazzbarnes @super-btstrash-posts @eli2447 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @abaker74 @marvelouslyme96 @faithiegirl01 @shanimallina87 @harrysgothicbitch @zombicupcake3 @djs8891 @bellaireland1981 @tsumudoll @scoliobean @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

[thoughtsbydorian]

Random Hazbin HCs cause I can’t sleep

- The cannibals don’t have eyes because they eat them after they regenerate. Cannibal town works so well because no one actually dies they just take turns being eaten before regenerating. Cannibals are NOT hellborn, rather most of them are victorian folks who indulged in the mummy craze.

- Molly died before angel dust, i think she died in a shooting because of the mafia when they were teens/young adults. Hence why Molly was never really involved in the family business and I think it could also account for Angel’s turn to illicit substances.

- Angel and Husk knew each other in life, maybe even hooked up briefly. Husk is actually the younger of the two but not by a lot.

- Charlie used to have another group of sinner friends but they were all killed in the first extermination.

- Angel and Alastor are the only ones of the main crew who were never married in life.

- Nifty got married her senior year of high school and did her best to be the perfect wife. She had some fertility issues and had mental breakdown, causing her husband and family to have her institutionalized. After a while she escaped and took out her rage on her husband and her older cousin who he was cheating on her with. She ended up setting the house on fire and causing a small explosion in which she lost an eye. However she tried to continue her rampage, going to her parents where her father was the one who shot her down.

- Vaggie was never alive. Rather she was created to care for children souls in heaven before she was recruited to be an exorcist. Part of the reason she became an exorcist was to protect the kids. She was under the impression that all children went to heaven. Though when she went to kill the cannibal kid, she realized she was wrong and the system was far more flawed than she realized.

- Angel was a an overlord under his father for the first few years he was in hell (leaving after he realized that he didn’t need to pretend he wasn’t gay anymore)

- Every so often Charlie locks her self away to cry about the idea of losing all here friends

- Alastor has a very strict moral code when it comes to who he kills. He only kills those who take advantage or abuse of others. Which is why he didn’t kill Husk when he could’ve.

- Nifty and Alastor would tag team Valentino so hard

- Part of the reason Vaggie didn’t put together that Angelic weapons could harm angels is because she thought she had already fallen before her eye was cut out. She thought the mere thought of questioning the system made her fall.

- Valentino has a major superiority complex, so he thinks he’s the one in charge of the Vees when in reality he’s the last person to be consulted on big decisions.

- Vox was a small local news reporter with dreams of going national. Unfortunately that never happened as he was killed by a falling set piece on live, making him more famous in his death than in his life.

- Sir Pentious had two sons when he was alive. One lived well into adulthood, the other died when he was barely a teen from typhoid or some other old timey disease. It’d be the same disease the Pent ends up dying from. Though not before he starts obsessing over how to cure it, his other son continues his work and ends up discovering the vaccine for it.

- Pentious was a snake’s oil salesman for most of his life.

- Nifty had a lobotomy in life

- If others hadn’t been there, the val and charlie would’ve ended much differently(she was ready to kill him before angie stopped her)

- Charlie has tried to cut her hair short(like pixie) multiple times but whenever she loses control of her powers it just grows back, the only loophole for some reason being and undercut or side cut. as long as the hair on the crown of her head is long it’s fine.

- Alastor’s mom was a teen mom; my brain says 13 or 14. Her parents kicked her out after they found out she was pregnant forcing her to become fully dependent on her (now) husband. They had a shotgun wedding and a really tumultuous marriage. His dad left them both when he was 5 or 6. He also isn’t an only child though i’m not sure if he has a younger sibling or older. probably younger.

- Husk’s actual name is Jack, it’s part of his deal with Alastor that his old name was sold to Alastor. Him and anyone who knew him as Jack have completely forgotten it, they know his past but think he’s always been Husk. I’d like to think if he or anyone else rediscovers his name the deal would broken, kind rumplstisken vibes.

- Quite a lot of the sinners had kids in life, most of them assume that their kids ended up in heaven.

- Sir Pentious’ sons did end up in heaven and recognized him instantly and was elated to see his dad after so long.

[iwaoiness]

Tooru's love life

Oikawa has become a public figure whose name has gone around the world. He has been featured in a multitude of magazines, both sports and fashion. He has appeared on various talk shows and participated in some entertainment programmes. He is the new face of Nike and every week he promotes world-renowned brands on his Instagram account (with almost 9M followers). On TikTok (with more than 6M followers) he usually shows his daily life and joins the funniest and most extravagant trends.

He is charismatic, intelligent, flirtatious and charming, and journalists are dying to get the tiniest tidbit of information about his private life, especially his love life, because Oikawa Tooru, despite everything, has learned very well (too well, in fact) how to dodge questions about his non-professional life, which he wants to keep under lock and key. The only thing that is known for sure is that he is originally from Miyagi and studied at Aoba Johsai, otherwise everything is a mystery (in fact, they tried to interview some of his former classmates, unfortunately running into Mattsun and Makki whose answers were a repertoire of "maybe yes", "maybe no", "I don't know", "who knows", "will this go live?", "Oikawa likes milk bread although he doesn't tolerate lactose, isn't it funny?"

But one day everything explodes.

Oikawa's name becomes a worldwide trending topic for weeks, millions of his fans flood the social networks with screenshots and kilometric threads, gossip magazine journalists go crazy camping outside the luxury flat block where Oikawa lives to corner him and bombard him with questions, his manager (who is torn between asking for a pay rise or an early retirement despite his 30 years old) tries to control and defuse the situation.

And the reason is his new TikTok video, with the black and white filter, where he appears lying face down on his king-size bed, recording his reflection in the room's wide mirror. Behind him, with his head resting on his bare back, is Iwaizumi Hajime, gently and slowly caressing his back, alternating those caresses with small kisses on his skin.

A song plays in the background for the first seven seconds until Tooru speaks and a soft Hajime comes from his lips. Iwaizumi lifts his head and, when he sees Oikawa with his mobile pointed at the mirror, he looks at the reflection of both and smiles (the playful, lopsided smile that turns on Oikawa as fuck) before winking. His hand, always firm and warm against Tooru's skin, slowly descends further down, his fingers tracing over the bare skin until they reach his nike sports shorts, caressing the fabric of the garment before his hand opens and wraps around his ass.

And there the video cuts off and starts again. In the caption, it reads: upss hehe (ノ≧▽° )ノ

Days later, when everything is still on fire, Matsukawa and Hanamaki are (surprisingly) called again to be interviewed by a young intern (judging by his dark circles under his eyes, the dried coffee stain on his pants and the endearing stammering in his questions) for a program about celebrity scandals to be aired later. This time, however, they decide to be more benevolent and Issei and Hiro look directly into the camera, with an aura of mystery and secrecy.

"Well, Tsubaki-kun"

"I-it's Subaru, Matsukawa-san."

"Well, Subaru-kun, you're in luck, we actually came with the intention of bringing a very, very important exclusive."

"R-Really?" Subaru blinks, incredulous as Makki nods energetically.

"It's something that even Oikawa himself isn't aware of, right, Issei?"

"Totally, Hiro. Are you ready, Subaru-kun, ready to know the truth and only the truth?"

Both, Subaru and the silent cameraman, nod their heads, totally expectant of what two of the people closest to Oikawa-senshu may finally reveal.

"Well, here we go, Hiro. Do the honors, you're the best at this."

"You flatter me, honey, it will be my pleasure." Makki clears his throat, cricks his fingers, exhales and inhales deeply, squares his shoulders, settles back on his seat and finally opens his mouth to say "Did you know that Oikawa Tooru is dating Iwaizumi Hajime and, exactly five days ago, Oikawa uploaded a TikTok (very un-family-friendy if you ask me) where he confirms their relationship? It's scandalous, right? I'm sure no one saw that video, but know that it exists."

That same night, during the weekly video call shared by the four former Seijoh members, Tooru's ramen comes out of his nose in a fit of laughter and Iwaizumi is unable to control his when Mattsun and Makki recount how they were banned again for the rest of their lives from (now) eight TV stations and two radio stations.

[lqtraintracks]

Is there a difference between what you find the hottest in smut and what you find the hottest in reality? Are there parallels?

You sure came in here with a banger, didn't you?

I let this marinate for a few days (a week?) something like that. The trick is probably going to be in giving a genuine answer that also doesn’t bare all of me and my secret fantasies to the internet. The answer would be a little more detailed in a circle of friends rather than shared on the tumbles. 

Be that as it may (under a cut because of sexual topics):

Is there are difference? Yes. Are there parallels? Yes, and even hell yes.

I write things I would never want to try myself. Watersports. Great on the page. SUPER hot. It can be hot to me when other people engage in it; under certain circumstances I could watch it. Have less than zero interest in doing it.

There are plenty of things I find hot both on the page and in my own mind that would be hard nos in reality. Deep-throating? Hot in fic. Sometimes in porn, though it has to be ~just right~. In reality, it’s a hell no for me. No shame to people for whom it is a hell yes! That’s why I love writing it! It’s hot. In theory. And when I’m in control of how it happens and to whom, and I can zoom in on their inner thoughts and desires while it happens. That’s what makes it hot for me more than even the thing itself. 

That said, yes, there are plenty of parallels. There are plenty of things that I write that I also love to do, have done, etc. I will leave that to your imagination! But I’ve realized pretty recently that I’m sort of gray ace and demi as well as queer. I would rather read about most things, write most things, than do them. Doesn’t mean I haven’t done and enjoyed a lot of them or won’t again. I’ve lived what I can safely say is likely more than half the life I’m going to get. I’ve done a lot. I’ve tried a lot that I loved, that I hated, that I’m neutral about, that was bad with one person but then great with another. I’ve been top, bottom, Dom, sub, tried lots of positions and role plays and places and kinks and sorts of people. I’ve had traumatic experiences and ecstatic ones. I’ve had boring sex and off-putting sex and one night stands and years-long relationships, good and bad. I have an extremely prolific sexual imagination, and I enjoy my own company. If you know what I mean.

But there’s a reason I write so much smut. I absolutely love it. When I’m writing sex, I’m both in complete control and absolutely uninhibited. I bare my soul with all my clothes still on. I write characters having near-religious experiences with each other and can simultaneously give them orgasms and soul-shattering love. It’s messy but only in the ways that I decree. If I want to do something realistic and have someone stop in the middle of anal sex because they feel like they’re about to shit themselves (and their partner) I can—but I don’t have to! It’s idealized, which makes it both less and more than real sex. I can experience hate sex without hating anyone! I can explore pain play more than I could probably stand in real life (giving or receiving). It’s a different kind of creative act, sometimes fueled by actual sexual fantasies but just as much by my writer’s drive to try something new with my art and to explore characters without limitations.

I hope this yes-and-no answer isn’t too unsatisfying. If so, just go read some smut instead! I’ve found that tends to do the trick. :D

Thanks for the balls-out ask! I had fun thinking about it! <3